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“You were woolgat...
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There were some things he knew he could not say. But it was so easy to talk to this girl. Something about her put his mind at ease, even as his body tingled with desire.
“My goodness,” she said with a slightly forced smile, “we’ve grown serious.
They were both trapped, Simon realized. Trapped by their society’s conventions and expectations.
A strange, wild, and appallingly wonderful idea. It was probably also a dangerous idea, since it would put him in her company for long periods of time,
Simon valued his self-control abo...
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“You’re a duke,” she whispered. “You can say no.”
“Perhaps there is a way that I might be spared the attentions of the Featheringtons and the like, and at the same time, you might be spared the matchmaking efforts of your mother.”
his eyes mesmerizing hers—“will form an attachment.”
I’d thought that you were unmarried because your brothers had scared off all your suitors,
then realized that his plan could work to her benefit even more than he’d originally imagined.
“We shall pretend to have developed a tendre for each other. I won’t have quite so many debutantes thrown in my direction because it will be perceived that I am no longer available.”
“They won’t believe you’re unavailable until you’re standing up before the bishop, taking your vows.” The very thought made his stomach churn.
I will eventually be able to convince society that I am not anyone’s ca...
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what do I gain?” “For one thing, your mother will stop dragging you from man to man if she thinks you have secured my interest.”
“men are always more interested in a woman if they think other men are interested.”
but if all the world thinks I intend to make you my duchess, all of those men who see you as nothing more than an affable friend will begin to view you in a new light.”
Simon and Daphne have formed an arrangement. Be interested with each other. Simon won't have unmarried women his way, Daphne will get suitors. Then she will find a gentleman to marry.
“Meaning that once you throw me over, I shall have hordes of suitors at my beck and call?”
“I still think I’m gaining much more from this arrangement than you,” she said.
her daughter—who appeared to have thoroughly captured the attention of the Duke of Hastings—only
only one week in London and already the catch of the season.
“Do you think he likes her?” Violet asked excitedly. “Do you think our Daphne truly has a chance to be a duchess?”
“Mother, you told Daphne she wasn’t even to be seen with him, and now you’re thinking of marriage?”
“Clearly he is a man of great refinem...
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“Are you trying to marry Daphne off so that she might be happy as a wife and a mother, or are you just trying to beat Mrs. Featherington to the altar?”
Daphne will make the season’s greatest match.”
The lavender silk fan in Violet’s hand began to flutter rapidly. “I should be delighted. I mean, Daphne should be delighted. Shouldn’t you, Daphne?”
“Protecting my sister!” “From the duke? He can’t be that wicked. Actually, he reminds me of you.”
“Don’t be so overprotective. If he attempts to spirit her out onto the balcony, I promise you may dash out to rescue her. But until that unlikely event occurs, please allow your sister her moment of glory.”
They made a most handsome couple.
her daughter would make an excellent duchess.
Daphne walking back toward her—on the arm of another man.
Dash it all, what the devil was he doing dancing with Penelope Featherington?
the Duke of Hastings mentioned no fewer than six times yestereve that he has no plans to marry.
his half dozen anti-matrimony remarks were all uttered before he made the acquaintance of the lovely and sensible Miss (Daphne) Bridgerton.
a large bouquet of fiendishly expensive tulips.
Daphne had sagely pointed out that if he did not call upon her the next day, no one—least of all her mother—would truly believe he was interested.
Daphne, a vision in ice-blue silk,
It would have been a lovely sight, had she not been surrounded by at least a half dozen men,
Simon fully expected a rosebush to sprout from the nitwit’s mouth at any moment.
He fixed his gaze on Daphne, who was directing her magnificent smile at the buffoon reciting poetry, and waited for her to acknowledge him. She didn’t.
Daphne smiled again, and again not at him. The idiot poet. Definitely the idiot poet.
“Your grace!” Simon looked up to realize that Daphne had finally noticed that he had entered the room.
he took her gloved hand and kissed it. “Your daughter is an exceptional young lady.”