TheDuke and I E-Book

Julia Quinn

• Herausgeber: Real
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The Duke and I is a 2000 historical romance novel written by Julia Quinn, first published by Avon. It is the first novel of Quinn's series of Regency romances about the Bridgerton siblings and tells the story of Daphne, the fourth eldest child of the family. Bridgerton is an American historical-romance streaming television series created by Chris Van Dusen for Netflix. Based on the book series by Julia Quinn, it is Shondaland's first scripted show for Netflix. It revolves around the eponymous Bridgerton family and is set in the competitive world of Regency era London's ton during the social season where marriageable youth of nobility and gentry are launched into society. The first season debuted on December 25, 2020, to generally positive reviews, with 625.49 million hours viewed it became the most-watched English-language series on Netflix at the time of its premiere before being overtaken by its sophomore season. Bridgerton's second season became the most watched English-language television series on Netflix at the time with 656.16 million hours in its first 28 days of release. It premiered on March 25, 2022, with generally positive reviews and debuted number one in 92 countries on the platform. It was also the most viewed show on United States television screens for three weeks per Nielsen Media Research. The show's record-setting second season, which surpassed season one in viewership, cemented Bridgerton as a franchise per Entertainment Weekly. The series as a whole gave the romance genre its own cinematic universe with the female gaze front and center according to Slate. Before the first season aired, the show was already in pre-production for a second season which was officially announced in January 2021. By April 2021, the series was renewed for a third and fourth season. From the same series: #2 The Viscount who loved me #3 An offer from a GTentleman #4 Romancing Mister Bridgerton #5 To Sir Phillip, with love #6 When he was wicked
 

Leseprobe

Chapter 2

The new Duke of Hastings is a most interesting character. While it is common knowledge that he was not on favorable terms with his father, even This Author is unable to learn the reason for the estrangement .

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 26 April 1813

Later that week, Daphne found herself standing on the fringes of Lady Danbury's ballroom, far away from the fashionable crowd. She was quite content with her position.

Normally she would have enjoyed the festivities; she liked a good party as well as the next young lady, but earlier that evening, Anthony had informed her that Nigel Berbrooke had sought him out two days earlier and asked for her hand. Again. Anthony had, of course, refused (again!), but Daphne had the sinking feeling that Nigel was going to prove uncomfortably persistent. After all, two marriage proposals in two weeks did not paint a picture of a man who accepted defeat easily. Across the ballroom she could see him looking this way and that, and she shrank further into the shadows. She had no idea how to deal with the poor man. He wasn't very bright, but he also wasn't unkind, and though she knew she had to somehow put an end to his infatuation, she was finding it far easier to take the coward's way out and simply avoid him.

She was considering slinking into the ladies' retiring room when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"I say, Daphne, what are you doing all the way over here?"

Daphne looked up to see her eldest brother making his way toward her. "Anthony," she said, trying to decide if she was pleased to see him or annoyed that he might be coming over to meddle in her affairs. "I hadn't realized you would be in attendance."

"Mother," he said grimly. No other words were necessary.

"Ah," Daphne said with a sympathetic nod. "Say no more. I understand completely."

"She made a list of potential brides." He shot his sister a beleaguered look. "We do love her, don't we?"

Daphne choked on a laugh. "Yes, Anthony, we do."

"It's temporary insanity," he grumbled. "It has to be. There is no other explanation. She was a perfectly reasonable mother until you reached marriageable age."

"Me?" Daphne squeaked. "Then this is all my fault? You're a full eight years older than I am!"

"Yes, but she wasn't gripped by this matrimonial fervor until you came along."

Daphne snorted. "Forgive me if I lack sympathy. I received a list last year."

"Did you?"

"Of course. And lately she's been threatening to deliver them to me on a weekly basis. She badgers me on the issue of marriage far more than you could ever imagine. After all, bachelors are a challenge. Spinsters are merely pathetic. And in case you hadn't noticed, I'm female."

Anthony let out a low chuckle. "I'm your brother. I don't notice those things." He gave her a sly, sideways look. "Did you bring it?"

"My list? Heavens, no. What can you be thinking?"

His smile widened. "I brought mine."

Daphne gasped. "You didn't!"

"I did. Just to torture Mother. I'm going peruse it right in front of her, pull out my quizzing glass.”

"You don't have a quizzing glass."

He grinned, the slow, devastatingly wicked smile that all Bridgerton males seemed to possess.

"I bought one just for this occasion."

"Anthony, you absolutely cannot. She will kill you. And then, somehow, she'll find a way to blame me. "

"I'm counting on it."

Daphne swatted him in the shoulder, eliciting a loud enough grunt to cause a half dozen partygoers to send curious looks in their direction.

"A solid punch," Anthony said, rubbing his arm. "A girl can't live long with four brothers without learning how to throw one." She crossed her arms. "Let me see your list."

"After you just assaulted me?"

Daphne rolled her brown eyes and cocked her head in a decidedly impatient gesture.

"Oh, very well." He reached into his waistcoat, pulled out a folded slip of paper, and handed it to her. "Tell me what you think. I'm sure you'll have no end of cutting remarks."

Daphne unfolded the paper and stared down at her mother's neat, elegant handwriting. The Viscountess Bridgerton had listed the names of eight women. Eight very eligible, very wealthy young women. "Precisely what I expected," Daphne murmured.

"Is it as dreadful as I think?"

"Worse. Philipa Featherington is as dumb as a post."

"And the rest of them?"

Daphne looked up at him under raised brows. "You didn't really want to get married this year, anyway, did you?"

Anthony winced. "And how was your list?"

"Blessedly out-of-date, now. Three of the five married last season. Mother is still berating me for letting them slip through my fingers."

The two Bridgertons let out identical sighs as they slumped against the wall. Violet Bridgerton was undeterred in her mission to marry off her children. Anthony, her eldest son, and Daphne, her eldest daughter, had borne the brunt of the pressure, although Daphne suspected that the viscountess might have cheerfully married off ten-year-old Hyacinth if she'd received a suitable offer.

"Good God, you look a pair of sad sorts. What are you doing so far off in the corner?"

Another instantly recognizable voice. "Benedict," Daphne said, glancing sideways at him without moving her head. "Don't tell me Mother managed to get you to attend tonight's festivities."

He nodded grimly. "She has completely bypassed cajoling and moved on to guilt. Three times this week she has reminded me I may have to provide the next viscount, if Anthony here doesn't get busy."

Anthony groaned.

"I assume that explains your flight as well to the darkest corners of the ballroom?" Benedict continued. "Avoiding Mother?"

"Actually," Anthony replied, "I saw Daff skulking in the corner and…”

"Skulking?" Benedict said with mock horror.

She shot them both an irritated scowl. "I came over to hide from Nigel Berbrooke," she explained. "I left Mother in the company of Lady Jersey, so she's not likely to pester me anytime soon, but Nigel…”

"Is more monkey than man," Benedict quipped.

"Well, I wouldn't have put it that way precisely," Daphne said, trying to be kind, "but he isn't terribly bright, and it's so much easier to stay out of his way than to hurt his feelings. Of course now that you lot have found me, I shan't be able to avoid him for long."

Anthony voiced a simple, "Oh?"

Daphne looked at her two older brothers, both an inch above six feet with broad shoulders and melting brown eyes. They each sported thick chestnut hair, much the same color as her own, and more to the point, they could not go anywhere in polite society without a small gaggle of twittering young ladies following them about.

And where a gaggle of twittering young ladies went, Nigel Berbrooke was sure to follow.

Already Daphne could see heads turning in their direction. Ambitious mamas were nudging their daughters and pointing to the two Bridgerton brothers, off by themselves with no company save for their sister.

"I knew I should have made for the retiring room," Daphne muttered.

"I say, what's that piece of paper in your hand, Daff?" Benedict inquired.

Somewhat absentmindedly, she handed him the list of Anthony's supposed brides.

At Benedict's loud chortle, Anthony crossed his arms, and said, "Try not to have too much fun at my expense. I predict you'll be receiving a similar list next week."

"No doubt," Benedict agreed. "It's a wonder Colin.” His eyes snapped up. "Colin!"

Yet another Bridgerton brother joined the crowd.

"Oh, Colin!" Daphne exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "It's so good to see you."

"Note that we didn't receive similarly enthusiastic greetings," Anthony said to Benedict.

"You I see all the time," Daphne retorted. "Colin's been away a full year." After giving him one last squeeze, she stepped back, and scolded, "We didn't expect you until next week."

Colin's one-shoulder shrug matched his lopsided smile to perfection. "Paris grew dull."

"Ah," Daphne said with a shrewd look in her eye. "Then you ran out of money."

Colin laughed and held up his hands in surrender. "Guilty as charged."

Anthony hugged his brother, and said gruffly, "It's damned fine to have you home, brother.

Although the funds I sent you should have lasted you at least until.”

"Stop," Colin said helplessly, laughter still tingeing his voice. "I promise you may scold me all you want tomorrow. Tonight I merely wish to enjoy the company of my beloved family."

Benedict let out a snort. "You must be completely broke if you're calling us 'beloved.' " But he leaned forward to give his brother a hearty hug all the same. "Welcome home."

Colin, always the most devil-may-care of the family, grinned, his green eyes twinkling. "Good to be back. Although I must say the weather is not nearly so fine as on the Continent, and as for the women, well, England would be hard pressed to compete with the signorina I…”

Daphne punched him in the arm. "Kindly recall that there is a lady present, churl." But there was little ire in her voice. Of all her siblings, Colin was the closest to her in age, only eighteen months her elder. As children, they had been inseparable, and always in trouble. Colin was a natural prankster, and Daphne had never needed much convincing to go along with his schemes.

"Does Mother know you're home?" she asked.

Colin shook his head. "I arrived to an empty house, and…”

"Yes, Mother put the younger ones to bed early tonight," Daphne interrupted.

"I didn't want to wait about and twiddle my thumbs, so Humboldt gave me your direction and I came here."

Daphne beamed, her wide smile lending warmth to her dark eyes. "I'm glad you did."

"Where is Mother?" Colin asked, craning his neck to peer over the crowd. Like all Bridgerton males, he was tall, so he didn't have to stretch very far.

"Over in the corner with Lady Jersey," Daphne replied.

Colin shuddered. "I'll wait until she's extricated herself. I have no wish to be flayed alive by that dragon."

"Speaking of dragons," Benedict said pointedly. His head didn't move, but his eyes flicked off to the left.

Daphne followed his line of vision to see Lady Danbury marching slowly toward them. She carried a cane, but Daphne swallowed nervously and steeled her shoulders. Lady Danbury's often cutting wit was legendary among the ton. Daphne had always suspected that a sentimental heart beat under her acerbic exterior, but still, it was always terrifying when Lady Danbury pressed one into conversation.

"No escape," Daphne heard one of her brothers groan.

Daphne shushed him and offered the old lady a hesitant smile.

Lady Danbury's brows rose, and when she was but four feet away from the group of Bridgertons, she stopped, and barked, "Don't pretend you don't see me!"

This was followed by a thump of the cane so loud that Daphne jumped back just enough to trample Benedict's toe.

"Uf," said Benedict.

Since her brothers appeared to have gone temporarily mute (except for Benedict, of course, but Daphne didn't think that grunts of pain counted as intelligible speech) Daphne swallowed, and said, "I hope I did not give that impression, Lady Danbury, for…”

"Not you," Lady Danbury said imperiously. She jabbed her cane into the air, making a perfectly horizontal line that ended perilously close to Colin's stomach. "Them."

A chorus of mumbled greetings emerged as a response.

Lady Danbury flicked the men the briefest of glances before turning back to Daphne, and saying, "Mr. Berbrooke was asking after you."

Daphne actually felt her skin turn green. "He was?"

Lady Danbury gave her a curt nod. "I'd nip that one in the bud, were I you, Miss Bridgerton."

"Did you tell him where I was?"

Lady Danbury's mouth slid into a sly, conspiratorial smile. "I always knew I liked you. And no, I did not tell him where you were."

"Thank you," Daphne said gratefully.

"It'd be a waste of a good mind if you were shackled to that nitwit," Lady Danbury said, "and the good Lord knows that the ton can't afford to waste the few good minds we've got."

"Er, thank you," Daphne said.

"As for you lot” Lady Danbury waved her cane at Daphne's brothers "I still reserve judgment. You" she pointed the cane at Anthony "I'm inclined to be favorable toward, since you refused Berbrooke's suit on your sister's behalf, but the rest of you ... Hmmph."

And with that she walked away.

"'Hmmph?'" Benedict echoed. "'Hmmph?' She purports to quantify my intelligence and all she comes up with is 'Hmmph?'"

Daphne smirked. "She likes me."

"You're welcome to her," Benedict grumbled.

"Rather sporting of her to warn you about Berbrooke," Anthony admitted.

Daphne nodded. "I believe that was my cue to take my leave." She turned to Anthony with a beseeching look. "If he comes looking for me.”

"I'll take care of it," he said gently. "Don't worry."

"Thank you." And then, with a smile to her brothers, she slipped out of the ballroom.

* * *

As Simon walked quietly through the halls of Lady Danbury's London home, it occurred to him that he was in a singularly good mood. This, he thought with a chuckle, was truly remarkable, considering the fact that he was about to attend a society ball and thus subject himself to all the horrors Anthony Bridgerton had laid out before him earlier that afternoon.

But he could console himself with the knowledge that after today, he needn't bother with such functions again; as he had told Anthony earlier that afternoon, he was only attending this particular ball out of loyalty to Lady Danbury, who, despite her curmudgeonly ways, had always been quite nice to him as a child.

His good mood, he was coming to realize, derived from the simple fact that he was pleased to be back in England.

Not that he hadn't enjoyed his journeys across the globe. He'd traveled the length and breadth of Europe, sailed the exquisitely blue seas of the Mediterranean, and delved into the mysteries of North Africa. From there he'd gone on to the Holy Land, and then, when inquiries revealed that it was not yet time to return home, he crossed the Atlantic and explored the West Indies. At that point he considered moving on to the United States of America, but the new nation had seen fit to enter into conflict with Britain, so Simon had stayed away.

Besides, that was when he'd learned that his father, ill for several years, had finally died.

It was ironic, really. Simon wouldn't have traded his years of exploration for anything. Six years gave a man a lot of time to think, a lot of time to learn what it meant to be a man. And yet the only reason the then-twenty-two-year-old Simon had left England was because his father had suddenly decided that he was finally willing to accept his son.

Simon hadn't been willing to accept his father, though, and so he'd simply packed his bags and left the country, preferring exile to the old duke's hypocritical overtures of affection.

It had all started when Simon had finished at Oxford. The duke hadn't originally wanted to pay for his son's schooling; Simon had once seen a letter written to a tutor stating that he refused to let his idiot son make a fool of the family at Eton. But Simon had had a hungry mind as well as a stubborn heart, and so he'd ordered a carriage to take him to Eton, knocked on the headmaster's door, and announced his presence.