Chapter Text
Simon hated the way his eyes continued to be drawn to the Bridgerton girl almost as much as he hated the way these ton mamas looked at him. He stood with the strongest drink he could find in this God awful assemblage, brooding in the corner, and still woman and child paraded in front of him as though he would choose them the way he did the prized pig at the spring fair. Unlike the pigs there was little desirable in these bred and pampered ladies. Least of all the pretty, sweet little Bridgerton girl with her large expressive eyes and her delicate features and perfectly styled hair that fell just so to accentuate her porcelain beauty.
It hardly helped that the girl liked to play at fire. She had quite the biting glare. Not the inane, withering looks of some of the want to be Debutantes like the insipid Cowper girl or any number of other simpering upstarts that walked in his path. It was genuinely adversarial and made you want to do something about it. The glares she gave were challenging and compelling as though she deserved his showcasing. As though he should be the one parading and peacocking for her. Well he would not do it!
Worse still was the fact that she was the sweet little sister of one of his oldest friends. Anthony had been a boon in their Oxford years, always the best at a party, always the most cunning and cutting. He was a good time and the two of them could always take a room. Comparing exploits both in and out of bed with Anthony Bridgerton was a highlight to any dull week. So the primary thorn in his side being his good friend’s little sister was an adorning annoyance on an already irritating package.
Particularly as it meant that if he wished to speak to Bridgerton and rid himself of the drill of the ton he must also speak to her. A fact which set his skin to pin pricks and his heart to twist. In revulsion he was certain. After all, no matter how pretty her face, she was a perfect little debutante too pristine and sweet to ever truly be of interest. She was, of course, too demure to stand up to him in any way and he could not stomach the demure. He wanted a fight, he wanted passion. No English rose could hold the sort of fire he longed for in his bedmates. Not that he wanted to bed her. Not that he thought of her often. It was simply the ball, and she trussed up in her fine dress pulling every eye in the room and making him want to compete.
That was all this was: competition. He was naturally competitive and the men of the ton all had their eyes on her. Her and the other girl but that one was not even worth his notice. He had yet to actually meet the other, but he had met the young Miss Daphne Bridgerton and she plagued him from the moment of introduction. Plagued him enough that he had snapped at his godmother leading to his current predicament.
His bad mood for the last several days led him to owing a debt to Agatha Danbury , and thus he was on her arm at this inane societal function instead of a brothel or club where he belonged. It was that Bridgerton girl’s gnatlike buzzing incessant in his mind that led him to the bad mood that had him snapping at Agatha about the ball and earned him such a hard look he had been forced to agree to come as an apology. Now here he stood, arm in arm with his godmother, sipping watered down spirits, and avoiding the eyes of ladies and their mamas.
Then, as though summoned by his abhorrence: in she floated, and it was floating! As though fashioned by some sort of perfect gentry dream she floated as she walked with grace and gentility. She spoke with elegance and refinement, the perfect picture of fashion for the stifling constraints of the Bon Ton. He felt the distinct need to flee as she and her mother and her brother approached.
“Miss Bridgerton! Lady Briderton! How good to see you!” Lady Danbury extolled theatrically. “I trust you have met my Godson, the new Duke of Hastings.” She introduced and he bowed his head.
“Indeed we have met. At your ball in fact. Bridgerton, good to see you again.” He greeted, offering his hand to Anthony to shake. His eyes flickered to Daphne who seemed to have her eyes glued to their hands and he felt the irrepressible urge to tense his forearm. “Miss Bridgerton.” He added with more bite than was really necessary. He shouldn’t be so harsh, he was meant to be a charming rogue. To soften his words he held a hand to her in offering.
Daphne, somehow, seemed to straighten even further and purse her lips as though unenthused by his invitation. Really though, what debutante would ever turn down his offer to kiss her hand? It was foolish to even think it. Still her lips seemed to be in a small pout and in the half a moment his eyes were on her lips her eyes had locked to his eyes forcing him to swallow.
That was perhaps the most disturbing part of all of this: her eyes. They were pretty. He noticed, not for the first time, that they were a rather unique dark blue that held a promise of depth he could not bring himself to believe she possessed. They spoke of stolen moments and whispered secrets in the dark. They seemed to look through him in a way no one had in a very long time. They made him squirm and feel as though she knew everything about him. It was a bit intoxicating. He did not like it. “Your Grace.” She greeted though her tone, as usual, held a baffling sadness and resentment he did not know how to puzzle. She offered him her hand and he kissed it almost to spite her before letting it go, ignoring the gooseflesh that erupted on her upper arms above her gloves to match his own.
“Bridgerton, why do we not fetch the ladies some refreshments? I am certain your charming mother deserves something after having to deal with you all evening.” He gave a charming smile and wink to the Dowager pulling a polite and charmed laugh as she fluttered around.
“That is very kind of you, your grace. Daphne had just mentioned her fondness for the refreshments the Cho family had at a tea they hosted last year. I am certain she will so enjoy the fare here as well.” Violet expertly shifted focus from her to her daughter as only a matchmaking mama could. Simon looked to Anthony just in time to see the annoyed look on his face at his mother’s obvious meddling.
“Let us go before they devise a plot against us.” Anthony muttered with a wry poke to the Ladies. Daphne’s glare was clear and biting, even Anthony seemed to stutter a moment in his movements from the rather deadly look but it was not enough to stop their escape.
They swept effectively through most of the ballroom. They managed to dodge debutantes and mamas alike until they made the mistake of stepping far too close to the floor. At that point a group of ladies took up residence in their path spanning the entire thoroughfare and casting the two gentlemen furtive glances. Their only hope was to group together and pretend to be watching the dancefloor in the lull between songs.
It was then that Simon spotted it. One of the men had a glaring resemblance to Anthony and his brother Benedict and on his arm was possibly the smallest and most unfashionably loud girl in the room. She was robed in the brightest yellow he had ever seen and under a thick layer of bows and ribbons was a tuft of red curls that looked more at home on a poodle than a head. Still, it only required one look in the man’s face to see that he was besotted with her.
“Ahh the marriage mart strikes again.” Simon bemoaned out loud at the reverential look. The girl looked up to the poor sot on her arm and blinked her eyes and it was like watching wax melt in the middle of July. The girl giggled and Simon himself was concerned the man might simply sweep her into a kiss there in the middle of the floor.
“Whatever could you mean.” Anthony asked, clearly searching the room for whom Simon referenced. His eyes also seemed to linger on the pair who were encroaching on the borderline of scandalously close with their selected dance position. Made even worse by the fact that they still had several minutes before the next set. It was enough to make Simon snort a mocking laugh.
“That pathetic sap there with the walking sunflower topped by half the bows in mayfair.” He pointed out jutting his chin. “I would hate to be the poor bastard in charge of managing that union. If they get to the altar without a scandal I will go to church for a month.” Simon explained mockingly.
Anthony clearly soured and huffed. “Ah yes. That poor bastard, as you say, would be me.” Simon looked over in shock and horror but the laughter at his friend’s situation was high in his eyes. “That is my brother and his dearest friend.” Anthony git out looking in desperate need of a drink. He would need one as well if it were him.
“Did you not have a few friends like that?” Simon mocked. “Though I don’t think you were daft enough to allow any of them to be gently bred ladies.” He reasoned watching the two interact as though there wasn’t another soul in the world. It made something in him stir just watching it. It was the sort of intimacy no one could imagine.
The girl in his arms was a pretty enough little thing if one got past the bows and the ill fitted gown. She had sweet, round features that glowed with innocence and eyes that danced. She was even more sickeningly sweet than Daphne Bridgerton and her innocent doe eyes. Still, it was not so much the girl’s face that caught him as it was her expression. Even in her clear frustration there was an adoration that was undeniable. She looked at him as though he had imagined the stars and hung the moon for her. The way he looked at her insinuated he just might have done it, if she’d asked.
“I assure you my life would be much simpler if she were a friend like that.” Anthony remarked dryly. “I fear the truth is far worse. They are in love.” Most of Anthony’s tone held the exhaustion and the derision one might expect but there was a part, a deeper part, that sounded almost wistful.
Simon looked over to Anthony and blinked three times in shock. “You are in danger!” He informed his friend flatly before looking back to the couple at hand, though it was growing more and more intimate by the second making the image harder to watch. It felt as though he were imposing on a very private moment even watching the two converse. “At least tell me you have the writ of engagement ready. For the impending emergency?” Simon asked, arching his brow. Clearly, Anthony was focusing on the wrong sibling. While Daphne was surely desperate to be married this brother looked half ready to commit scandal on a very public dance floor.
Anthony sighed and shook his head pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. The good news is that the ton does not seem to notice my brother’s behavior with her for the most part. Somehow the two seem uniquely unbound by expectation. Perhaps it is because of her family’s position, but somehow we are saved. Though he seems rather intent on pressing that advantage does he not?” Anthony agreed with grit teeth.
Simon gaped at him before hearing an excited voice exclaim “Mr Bridgerton! Penelope!” loud and jarring. He watched as another woman walked over with a gentleman on her arm and they started to converse. Simon looked over the girl. She was pretty. Hair piled high on her head, elegant long neck and lines, excited dark eyes that he could see from here. Clearly a beauty. Even while the two spoke in conversation with this new woman, on the arm of a rather bored looking gentleman, it was as though he were looking at a couple already married speaking to a friend and her consort instead of two sets of available suitors.
“This must be a jest! You cannot honestly tell me that these two are simply permitted to act like that in view of all and nothing happens? Who is her family the queen?” Simon could not imagine the entire room was not seeing what he saw. How could they not? He may not spend much time in London but surely there was no way that this girl had so much notoriety that an eligible gentleman may as well be undressing her with his eyes in the middle of the ballroom and holding her all but pressed to his chest with the intent to devour and no one noticed!
Anthony laughed, shaking his head. “Far from it. As I mentioned, they are childhood friends. She is the dearest friend of our younger sister. Her father is a rather lowly Baron with notoriously high debts. She is simply considered ineligible to most of the ton.” Anthony explained. The tone of voice made it clear it was rather barbaric in Anthony’s opinion.
Simon coughed a laugh at him. “She has no other suitors then?” He clarified needing to truly understand the situation in full. “No one to challenge your brother for her hand.”
“Not as far as I am aware, no. He simply… loves her. In our family that is all that really matters for a match. We have told him he must wait until after Daphne is married however. We must focus on her, particularly with her being labeled the Diamond.” Anthony explained and Simon did not miss the rather pointed look. “Though our drawing room of late has been emptier than expected and the crop this year leaves much to be desired. It is shaping up to be a rather long wait.”
“You are making him wait until Daphne is married?” Simon asked agog. He was not one to make decisions for his friends but clearly Anthony had lost his mind if he considered these two to be capable of waiting more than a few days without courting scandal! They were, after all, courting it now! The music started and it got all the worse.
The moment the strings began the couple’s eyes met and Simon had seen and been party to sex less intimate than their dance. He felt the need to avert his eyes and the two were not even holding that close as it was a dance requiring long bouts of not facing your partner. Then there was a dip that led to a spin and Simon swore that the girl had been lifted from her feet with the way the two moved. By the time they were back to a closed position they were even closer than before, the girl’s nose nearly pressed to the man’s chest. “Come now Anthony! You must see this!” Simon pressed. “You are gambling my friend. A gamble I do not think you can win!”
Anthony groaned and shrugged. “We are indeed but there is nothing for it. Until Daphne has her match the two cannot marry. Colin can not so much as openly court her until Daphne has at least one serious suitor. That is what we have agreed. He must remain casual.”
“There is nothing casual about that!” Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was half tempted to throw his hat into the ring for Daphne just to save the poor sot and his girl from ruin. After all it would not be so bad to woo the Bridgerton girl would it? She was interesting. He shook his head to clear his mind from the thoughts that this little display was clearly giving him and turned to look pointedly at Anthony. “You are in danger!” He repeated, though if there was some of it said to himself, who was he to judge?