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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Nov 10, 2022 11:52:36 GMT
“DAPHNE!”
At the first sound of Eloise’s objection, Daphne assumed the most vapidly innocent look that she could muster. She was charm, she was grace. All the things that Mrs. Marchlett repeatedly informed her she ought to be. If only the woman was a little more lenient, and a little less insufferable with her droning during such a wonderful day as this, Daphne might have actually been all of those things. She might have even felt a little remorse for what she was attempting to do. Alas, not.
“You kicked me!”
There were two paths which could be taken, each with its advantages and disadvantages to her plan. On the one hand, she could be outraged (shocked, even) at the idea that Eloise would accuse her of such a thing. On the other, she could be so blasé as to not even rise to the challenge. She picked what she thought Mrs. Marchlett was less likely to suspect as a fraud. It would be the only way that both she and Eloise would be able to escape this lesson for the outside — all without receiving any form of punishment.
“Eloise, I think you are quite mistaken. I am simply sitting here, paying heed to Mrs. Marchlett’s lesson. And, oh, what a lovely lesson it is indeed.”
Daphne crossed her fingers as they sat in her lap; a lie for the sake of good was permissible, was it not? She watched as the look the woman had shot Eloise flipped briefly to suspicion, and then to one of happiness. Or, at least, slightly more cheerful relief. She only hoped that Eloise understood what was happening more than Mrs. Marchlett.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Oct 17, 2022 1:48:38 GMT
"...and so, if a lady should find herself sitting to the left of a gentleman of a lesser rank..."
Daphne stifled a groan as Mrs. Marchlett droned on about conversation protocol for afternoon tea. Normally, she worked to maintain her best behavior for these lessons, being as how she had achieved the loft age of twelve. Since papa had died (she shuddered even to think the word), mama had stressed the importance of her example. She was the eldest daughter, and she would be the one to set the tone for the rest of her sisters. She had to ensure that she caused no trouble for mama: her younger siblings were enough of a handful as it was.
Except that today was the first time the sun had peeked through the clouds in ages. For a whole month or more, it seemed, the skies had been completely grey, throwing day upon day of relentless rain. All she wanted to do was go outside, instead of pressing her face hopefully against a glass pane, only to be disappointed by the weather yet again. And yet, here she was, sitting quietly and learning her etiquette. Maybe, just once, she could cause a disruption. Surely it would cause only a temporary annoyance. And a temporary annoyance was a quite decent sacrifice to make in return for the opportunity to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin.
She spared a glance at her next-eldest sister wondering, not for the first time, why they shared this time. Four years was quite an insurmountable gap for instruction and none of this mattered for Eloise yet anyway. She often felt that as the oldest, most mature girl, she should be allowed to learn all of this by herself; let Eloise be in the nursery with the others. Now, Eloise would provide them both with the perfect escape.
Keeping her eyes on Mrs. Marchlett, and her hands folded neatly in front of her, she slowly drew her leg back, then kicked Eloise lightly in the shin.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Feb 6, 2022 22:29:05 GMT
Daphne felt the heat rise in her cheeks as the Duke spoke. She was no sought-after maiden, with men falling around her feet. That had been made quite clear by the dearth of suitors in the Bridgerton drawing room recently. No, she was caught in the ton's web, a fly just like all the others. Oh how he was praising her though! To think that such a powerful man presumed her capable of such command. She would try to make herself worthy of such compliments. Not that she cared overmuch for them. No, she cared exactly enough.
"We are all humbled by Society, your Grace. It teaches us all."
They were so open and free with each other. With a real suitor she would never imagine that she could speak as she did to him, a fact that she appreciated more than she had expected. Whereas she was forced to restrict her tone and words with other men, she could give her real conveyance to this man. And he appeared to be appreciating it as well. Unless she was presuming too much, which she might, given the absolute bounds they had set upon their little agreement. He moved towards her slightly, and then backed away, as though he was a fanciful bird, inviting her to dance. She looked up at him with a smile.
"I fear, your Grace, that there is not a ballroom in sight, and this is a most unusual place for us to practice our footwork." The comment slipped from her lips before she could stop herself. He would think her odd. Yet, she could picture the two of them dancing in the park so vividly. It felt a crime not to let at least a small piece of the image be shared.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Jan 17, 2022 22:15:23 GMT
"Well played, Miss Bridgerton."
If ever Daphne had ruminated on the true meaning of meeting one's match, all questions would have been answered in that moment. Impeccably polite, as always, Simon had recognized her game and made a move of his own. Knight takes pawn, bishop takes knight, and the men off to the side were hooked, their eyes boring holes into her dress as they stared. Too bad the interest was from them and not a certain other party. But no, she would not allow herself to follow that train of thought. They had made an arrangement, and he was holding up his part of the bargain splendidly. So she would hold up hers and refuse him any feelings other than warm friendship.
If only he would let go of her wrist. The gloves she wore were for appearance rather than warmth, and she could feel the heat running from his hand into hers, banishing what little chill remained in the late spring day. She could see her pulse beating rapidly in the spot left uncovered by fabric, a mere inch or two and yet enough to give away her racing heart. Gently she broke the contact.
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women are merely players." She quipped, thinking of how proud her mama and governess would be if they could hear her now. "They have their exits and entrances, and one man in his time may play many parts." Or perhaps not, in her mother's case. She was, after all, dabbling into impertinence with a duke.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Dec 27, 2021 19:23:19 GMT
"Absent any more teasing or mockery from my end."
"And yet, somehow, I do not believe you." That smirk. None of her brothers could smirk like that while keeping true to a word of no mockery. In truth, she did not mind the ribbing. It came from an easy rapport she had with Benedict though, of course, it was not nearly as good a relationship as she had with Colin. But that could not be helped. He was Benedict and she was Daphne, and between the two of them, there would always exist a gap created by a difference in age. And experience. Yet she loved him all the same. Perhaps it was time to remove all pretense of annoyance and anger from the conversation. After all, she could not stay angry at any member of her family for long, and this whole evening had been a dreadful series of miscommunications. If only she had not been so distracted by a certain pairing of smile and quirked eyebrow.
"Secrets or no, a warm glass of milk does a body and a mind good. And if you divulge even a little of your secrets to your dearest sister, then so much the better." Or mayhap just a tad more teasing would be in order. After all, she had never been one to back down from a verbal sparring with a sibling, highbrow or low. She turned and strode confidently out of the room, leaving him with little choice but to follow her. As she walked through the door, without even turning to face him, she called back, "Coming, brother?"
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Dec 27, 2021 18:53:35 GMT
Daphne's mind screamed in colors as Simon's fingers played along her skin. Dancing. Provoking. He was asking something. She could hear his voice, hear words spilling from his beautiful mouth. But nothing reached her. She was well past the point where the world made full sense, and with each new minute that passed she moved closer and closer to losing herself over the edge. And then he touched her breast and her body screamed. Or maybe she screamed. It was impossible to separate the two. She knew what was coming next, what they were building towards, and every fiber of her being was filled with anticipation. Before him, before the things he had taught her, she had never known what it meant to be truly satisfied. And now? Now she craved it, even if she had never said as much out loud.
She felt, rather than saw, him join her, the enveloping water falling away as he lifted her. Gooseflesh rippled across her skin, and she shivered slightly at the sudden change in temperature. Warm. Cool. Hot. Simon burned even through the layers of fabric he still wore, the heat coming off of him in waves. The sensations blended together until it was almost too much to bear. She took a long breath to steady herself, inhaling the rich scent of her husband. It was so very him, that beautiful blend she could never quite place a finger on, and yet recognized instantly.
"Yesssssssss." The word came out as little more than a hiss. She forced herself to breathe again, her entire body moving as she took in air. She was his. And he was hers. He was all hers. Her mouth hungrily met his, claiming his lips for herself, staking her territory with abandon. She wanted him. She needed him.
There was too much in the way for her liking. Too many clothes, too many steps. Her hands -- still covered in herself -- reached to begin the work of undressing him, leaving her remnants over everything she touched. He was ready for her, now all she had to do was free him from his prison and they could walk into the light of pleasure together.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Nov 28, 2021 22:15:53 GMT
Her fingers caught as Eloise turned. Gently, she worked to loose them of their bonds of tangled hair, taking care not to cause her sister any harm.
“Working with the housekeeper, Mrs. Coulson, on the accounts involves quite a bit of arithmetic. Far more than I had ever thought to expect. We must account for every purchase, every egg or apple eaten. And then we must take care to balance taste and desire with frugality when planning for upcoming events, or approving future purchases. Even to think on it now makes my hand cramp.”
It was true, arithmetic was not her strongest talent. The accounts took her longer to do than they would others, for she had to double- and triple-check her work to ensure no miscalculation had occurred. Still, she enjoyed the work. It meant that at the end of the day, she could feel like she had accomplished something. Perhaps it was one of the things that would encourage Eloise to look for her match. Surely no ordinary man would do, and to tempt her sister with the pleasure of doing things right might be just the trick.
“As for the village… I had a rather unfortunate introduction involving miscommunication, poor judgment in a pig contest, and lavender.” She laughed, reminiscing on her error now that the ensuing tension had passed. “Luckily I was saved from further embarrassment by a woman named Joanna. She must have… three? four? children. Little Ada has an adorable set of curls, and the new one tilts his head just-so any time you surprise him. As though he is an old soul, considering the world. Much like you, I should think.”
Soon enough, it would be her own child she would be chasing after, laughing as he (or she) frolicked with the children of the village. What a wonderful thought.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Sept 26, 2021 0:46:51 GMT
Not so long ago, Daphne Bridgerton would have been shocked at the mere thought of what her husband asked of her. But in the time since she had become Daphne Basset, she had learned a great many things. How to run a household. How to love a man. How to own herself. Simon's fingers tread lightly on her abdomen, the whisper of the promise of things to come. She could feel them there, tickling her skin in small movements. She closed her eyes and rested back into the moment, allowing her body to focus only on the circles he traced. How could someone so strong, so powerful do something so delicate?
Almost of its own accord, her hand began to mirror his ministrations, slowly -- achingly slowly -- spinning up until she reached the crux of her warmth. She moaned softly as she found herself, letting the sound flow freely from her mouth to ensure that her husband knew exactly where she was. Two voices in her brain fought, one screaming faster, the other telling her to stop. Telling her that she should feel intense shame at what she was doing. She still had her little embarrassments from time to time, and she could feel a blush rising up her cheeks and into her hair, even as she extracted pleasure for herself. She silenced everything by torturing herself, moving languidly so that Simon could see every small twitch.
He wanted her to burn, but she was drowning instead, slipping growing waves. She could still breathe, could still keep her head above the sea, but the tide was turning. She was not sure how long she could hold herself back from the unstoppable force deep inside. It was not Simon’s face she thought of, not exactly. It was a thousand images moving past her eyes: the quirk of his eyebrow, a smile tucked deep into the corner of his mouth. His strong fingers touching her. She thought of those fingers, imagined them doing all the things to her that she was doing to herself.
“Si-mon.” It came out in a half-gasp, her lungs suddenly struggling to take in air. The pictures were tumbling together, blurring into a feeling of pleasure that radiated and fizzed under her skin.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Jun 19, 2021 22:37:42 GMT
Disappointed. Yes, she had been disappointed. Disappointed in herself, disappointed in her brother. The discussion they had engaged in on this otherwise uncomfortable carriage ride had done some work to assuage the emotions she felt. No amount of peaceful words between them would fully tamp down the nerves she felt at the prospect of missing out on a match. Good heavens, it was only just the beginning of the Season, and already she was dreading the potential of another year spent unpaired, prancing like a pretty show-pony for the ton.
Tonight. Tonight would be her first real chance to do away with any such potential. No matter how uncomfortable she was, it was key that she put on her best face, the better to catch the eye of a suitor. Now that she had secured Anthony’s word to all her some liberty, she would at least be able to relax into true conversation on the dance floor. All she had to do was hope that he kept his promise.
The carriage rattled to a halt, and she felt the warmth and flicker of torchlight stream over her as the door opened. She straightened as best she could, ignoring the chafing of all that she wore. This was it. This was her chance. Now, it was time to get to work. She watched Anthony alight from his seat, willing her hands to stay steady. Then, a hand was proferred to her, and she stepped out into the night, ready for the ball at last.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on Jun 13, 2021 23:35:22 GMT
"Even friends have secrets from one another, do they not?"
Daphne stiffened slightly. She had heard nearly the same words earlier. She, of course, had fought back against the sentiment stridently and prevailed. Only to be left with the answers to her questions circling around her head, consuming her until she could think of little else. Benedict had no way to know her internal turmoil, or did he? Was her struggle not as concealed as she had thought? For here her brother was, implying that she had her very own secret to keep. No, not implying. Stating. She wanted to no part in revealing anything to him. It was embarrassment enough that she could not restrain herself from the thoughts; telling them to another, even her brother, would be almost scandalous.
"I do not know what you mean, brother. I have no secrets to trade. Only restless feet and an inability to achieve a peaceful night's sleep."
She kept her face as innocent as she could. It was not a lie. Truly. It was simply not the full truth. All women kept secrets. Men had no need to know of all the inner workings of a woman's mind, let alone the secrets of her body. But she was nearly certain that Benedict was not referring to those things. How many times must she state that she was simply restless and strolling to work out some excess energy before she attempted to reunite herself with her bed? Would he never believe her?
"By all means, Benedict, if you feel as though you wish to elucidate me into one or another of your secrets, I believe I could find some means of repayment. Even if it is only warm milk to help you sleep." It was a peace offering, an olive branch. She only hoped that he took it as such. She was in no mood to try and dance her way through any more conversation. At the very least, this game of wits that they had been playing had begun to wear her down. Perhaps she would be able to get sleep after all.
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Post by L on May 29, 2021 21:21:52 GMT
Simon grinned and Daphne felt the strangest sensation in the pit of her stomach. It was as though little birds had somehow burst from their eggs and swarmed within her. She wanted to look away, to focus on almost anything else. But she found she could not, her body rejecting all efforts she made to the contrary. She heard his words, but as though from a distance, her mind filtering out all other inputs deemed unnecessary.
“A boxing house, you say? Certainly I have never been to one. I prefer my entertainment in the form of books and plays. Or even just a view of pretty things.” Her eyes. She had to get her eyes off of him. Otherwise he would think that she was implying something she had no intention of ever saying. Blushing, she looked down at the sleeve on her dress. Several of her buttons had popped open, exposing some of the skin on her wrist. Perfect.
“My cuff. Button it.” She held the offending article up to him.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on May 26, 2021 2:32:54 GMT
Daphne scowled slightly. Well, turnabout was fair play, and if she could tease her brother about his rumpled state, it left her open for a salvo about her wanderings. But how to explain her presence? There were several painful forms of torture (and she knew of them extensively due to her love of English history and the former rulers' love of punishment) that she would have undergone before admitting even a fraction of what was on her mind. She had not intended to be anywhere near another living soul for this very reason.
"I could not sleep, and I thought a midnight stroll might help to clear my mind." It was truth enough, though it barely scratched the surface. "You have been home for such a long while that I merely assumed you to be asleep."
It would likely suit her better to take her musings elsewhere. He was clearly occupied, and even more clearly did not want to speak on that which occupied him. She understood that, even if she did not enjoy that he kept secrets from her. When had everyone in her family become so involved in hiding things? Were they not the most well-knit family in the ton? Or was it simply that she had been too naive to notice before? It was disturbing to think that she had potentially been so unknowing of so many things earlier. Like the topic that still occupied her mind.
"I thought we were friends." She took care not to whine, "Since when do we keep such obvious secrets from each other?" She would never share hers, but maybe she could push him to reveal his.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on May 23, 2021 9:04:38 GMT
“Glowing? I hardly think so.” Daphne giggled slightly at the thought, “You have a most wonderful eye, and I thank you for the compliment.”
The idea that she could possibly be even slightly resplendent when every morning she was made aware of exactly how untrue a statement it could be. Or it might have been the meager sunlight bouncing off of her skin as it hit the tiny beads of sweat that constantly seemed to gather these days, leaving her in a constant state of slight dewiness. Honestly, if Mama – or any other woman for that matter – had told her about the things that came along with bearing a child, she might have thought twice about wishing so hard for one. Or not. It would be so wonderful to see a little one running around, a perfect mix of her and the wonder that was her husband. She could only hope that the child would take after Simon in every way imaginable, male or female. Particularly when it came to sums. She was a disaster, as she was reminded every time Mrs. Coulson asked her to look over accounts for stores or even simple guest numbers for a party.
“It is one of the most wonderful things of marriage: the ability to remove oneself from the societal eye. I have never been one for over-embellishment, unlike a… certain family. And now I have the freedom to do exactly as I like.”
Not to mention the fact that gowns without jewels or extensive patterning were more easily removed and less likely to snag on furniture. A bonus when one enjoyed vigorous activities in an interesting collection of places. But the modiste was not to know that.
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on May 16, 2021 21:26:36 GMT
Daphne knew in her heart of hearts that Anthony had not intended to slight her. He could be an ass, stubborn and overbearing and far too protective for her liking, but all such efforts were intended for her benefit. And yet, she could not help but feel embarrassed by the question he posed. She looked out the window, unable to contain her emotions as she felt a blush creep across her cheeks.
“There is no one, brother.”
She forced the words out in a half-mumble. In fact, there was someone. There was a very big, handsome, warm someone. But Anthony had put his foot down so very solidly and she was as-yet unwilling to admit just how very much she liked his friend. For heaven’s sake, she had barely known the man and she was already feeling butterflies at just thinking his name. The Duke of Hastings. That was the man who posed such an interest. Mustering her courage, she spoke again, managing to keep her tone even.
“Though I dare say, I should develop an interest in one or two within the bounds of our new agreement.”
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Apr 21, 2023 16:04:32 GMT
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Post by L on May 15, 2021 9:58:32 GMT
To be frank, Daphne was not inclined towards any one style of art, not any particular artist. She simply liked the stories that could always be found. And, of course, she liked beautiful things. Thus, in an ordinary moment, she would have simply wandered, flitting between floors as her inclination and eye took her. Today, she would have to be slightly more strategic, for her body was beginning to tire more quickly than it had. She supposed that it took quite a bit of energy to build new life (certainly she had expended a good amount in creating it).
“Upper floor, I think. The better to catch the evening sun in the garden, should we remain here at that time.” A reasonable, if false, excuse if ever she heard one. “Unless, of course, you have a more specific focus you would like to start with.”
She was unsure where Benedict’s interests lay these days. Her own life had become so very separate from his, but even before, they had not shared such a particularly special relationship. Not like the one she had with Colin. She loved each one of her siblings desperately, but Benedict was six years older than her, a seemingly unsurmountable schism of age for such a young girl. Now that they had both reached adulthood and, dare she say it, maturity, she hoped to learn more about him and deepen their bond. This outing was a good step along the path.
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