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“How did you do that?” Simon asked.

“What, catch him?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged. “I have years of practice.”

“Daphne!” Gregory whined. His arm, after all, was still attached to her hand.

She let go. “Now, slow down.”

He took two exaggerated steps then broke into a trot.

“No scolding for Hyacinth?” Simon asked.

Daphne motioned over her shoulder. “It appears my mother has Hyacinth in hand.”

Simon saw that Violet was shaking her finger quite vehemently at Hyacinth. He turned back to Daphne. “What were you about to say before Gregory appeared on the scene?”

She blinked. “I have no idea.”

“I believe you were about to go into raptures at the thought of having no siblings.”

“Oh, of course.” She let out a little laugh as they followed the rest of the Bridgertons up the hill toward the observatory. “Actually, believe it or not, I was going to say that while the concept of eternal solitude is, at times, tempting, I think I would be quite lonely without family.”

Simon said nothing.

“I cannot imagine having only one child myself,” she added.

“Sometimes,” Simon said in a dry voice, “one has little choice in the matter.”

Daphne's cheeks turned an immediate red. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” she stammered, her feet absolutely refusing to take a step. “I'd forgotten. Your mother…”

Simon paused beside her. “I didn't know her,” he said with a shrug. “I didn't mourn her.”

But his blue eyes were strangely hollow and shuttered, and Daphne somehow knew that his words were false.

And at the same time, she knew that he believed them one hundred percent.

And she wondered—what could have happened to this man to make him lie to himself for so many years?

She studied his face, her head tilting slightly as she took in his features. The wind had brought color to his cheeks and ruffled his dark hair. He looked rather uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and finally he just grunted, and said, “We're falling behind.”

Daphne looked up the hill. Her family was a good distance ahead of them. “Yes, of course,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “We should get going.”

But as she trudged up the hill, she wasn't thinking of her family, or of the observatory, or even of longitude. Instead, she was wondering why she had the most bizarre urge to throw her arms around the duke and never let go.

Several hours later, they were all back on the grassy banks of the Thames, enjoying the last bites of an elegant yet simple luncheon that had been prepared by the Bridgertons' cook. As he had the night before, Simon spoke little, instead observing the often boisterous interactions of Daphne's family.

But Hyacinth apparently had other ideas.

“Good day, your grace,” she said, seating herself next to him on the blanket one of the footmen had laid out for their picnic. “Did you enjoy your tour of the observatory?”

Simon couldn't quite suppress a smile as he answered, “Indeed I did, Miss Hyacinth. And you?”

“Oh, very much so. I especially appreciated your lecture on longitude and latitude.”

“Well, I don't know that I'd call it a lecture,” Simon said, the word making him feel just the slightest bit old and stodgy.

Across the blanket, Daphne was grinning at his distress.

Hyacinth just smiled flirtatiously—flirtatiously?—and said, “Did you know that Greenwich also has a most romantic history?”

Daphne started to shake with laughter, the little traitor.

“Really?” Simon managed to get out.

“Indeed,” Hyacinth replied, using such cultured tones that Simon briefly wondered if there were actually a forty-year-old matron inside her ten-year-old body. “It was here that Sir Walter Raleigh laid his cloak upon the ground so that Queen Elizabeth would not have to dirty her slippers in a puddle.”

“Is that so?” Simon stood and scanned the area.

“Your grace!” Hyacinth's face reverted to ten-year-old impatience as she jumped to her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Examining the terrain,” he replied. He cast a secret glance at Daphne. She was looking up at him with mirth and humor and something else that made him feel about ten feet tall.

“But what are you looking for?” Hyacinth persisted.

“Puddles.”

“Puddles?” Her face slowly transformed into one of utter delight as she grasped his meaning. “Puddles?”

“Indeed. If I'm going to have to ruin a cloak to save your slippers, Miss Hyacinth, I'd like to know about it in advance.”

“But you're not wearing a cloak.”

“Heavens above,” Simon replied, in such a voice that Daphne burst into laughter below him. “You do not mean that I will be forced to remove my shirt?”

“No!” Hyacinth squealed. “You don't have to remove anything! There aren't any puddles.”

“Thank heavens,” Simon breathed, clasping one hand to his chest for added effect. He was having far more fun with this than he would have ever dreamed possible. “You Bridgerton ladies are very demanding, did you know that?”

Hyacinth viewed him with a mixture of suspicion and glee. Suspicion finally won out. Her hands found their way to her little hips as she narrowed her eyes and asked, “Are you funning me?”

He smiled right at her. “What do you think?”

“I think you are.”

“I think I'm lucky there aren't any puddles about.”