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'I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms,
the most immediate way in which a human being
can share with another the sense of what it is to be
a human being.'
- Oscar Wilde
. . .
"You know, I do suppose if it were not for an overzealous mother at every corner, this time of year in the city would not be so very dreadful." The Duke of Hastings pointed out after draining the rest of his drink to the dregs.
Anthony just shook his head at his whining as he leaned back into his leather chair.
"Those mothers simply want the same as you, I rather think."
Simon's eyebrows reached his hairline in optimism. "For every last one of them to choke on their daughters' hair ribbons?"
"For you to claim a wife, Hastings." Anthony corrected. The topic of Anthony's choosing had Simon's face souring as he poured himself another drink and it didn't go unnoticed. "Are you truly not planning on taking your place in society when you have a dukedom?"
"I have a title," he replied with a finality that made Anthony question whether he was going to get anywhere with his old friend on the matter, "which, as far as I'm concerned, will end with me."
Anthony found it all entirely ridiculous. "But Hastings –"
"Stop calling me that." Simon snapped. "It was my father's name. Never mine. And in any case, what of you?"
"What of me?"
Simon braced his arms on his knees. "You are the firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton, nine times over. Where is your wife?"
Anthony simply put the end of a cigar in his mouth, refusing to make any comment, and gestured for the waiter to come and refill their glasses.
"Oh, is your plan to fuck her forever, your mistress? You shall need to sire an heir."
Anthony offered Simon a look.
"I'm in possession of something that you are not." He lifted his glass in a toast. "Brothers." He took his drink in one swig. "And anyway, why don't you marry the Lakewood girl? You two do seem rather close."
Simon couldn't restrain any part of the laugh that belted out of him. "Athena? Good God, Bridgerton, you're mad to even suggest such a thing."
"Am I?" Anthony challenged, delight lighting his eyes.
Simon fixed him a look. "Marrying Athena would be like yourself marrying Daphne. But what about you, Bridgerton? What was that line that you had used, 'what business, Miss Lakewood, do you have my tongue?'"
