Five Minutes Alone With You

ch 2 : in the bridgerton drawing room

He had been a fool, to resist this for so long. To waste so much time, to pretend that there was not something between them. Of course, in pretending that there was no romantic future between them, he had well and truly fallen in love with her. It was only the thought of pushing her away, and then realizing that she yearned for him, that she wanted him as her husband, that had finally brought him back to reality. He could not step aside. He could not be a better man.

No, he would instead be completely and utterly selfish. He wanted her as his wife. And she... she had confessed her desires to having him as her husband.

He hoped. God above, he hoped.

He had run it over and over through his mind, turning each word, each blush, each glance...

No. He was not wrong in this.

There was no man alive that did not desire her, but he was the only man that she believed to be faking it. He had even said as much, that a man not worthy of her, that desired her of all things would call in the morning... and then told his Godmother that he would, in fact, be calling on Daphne.

He had had much to do in such a short amount of time, but as he stood across from Daphne's house, watching servant after servant bringing in large vases of flowers... That was what she had asked, had demanded. If we were truly courting, you would buy out every florist in town.

And he had done so. He had bought out every florist in town, every single flower he could get his hands on. He should have done it long ago, but he had clung to that stupid vow, to that promise he had made to his father.

But, the old man was dead, and he would no longer allow his tormentor to control his life. The man had died, believing that his line would end. There was no way his father was looking down from heaven, to see that his son had fallen in love. No, the future belonged to both himself and to Daphne, and he would no longer allow his father, and the resentment he carried, any part in it.

He once more tapped his pocket, making certain that the box was within. Lady Danbury had placed it into his hands almost as soon as they had returned to her home. He had been utterly silent, but she had seen through him, a smirk on her lips. When she had called him into her study, he had been given the jewelry box.

Within was a necklace, lovely and delicate. It looked so familiar... something he had seen on a portrait...

"It belonged to your mother. She left it to me. It was a gift to her, from her mother. I think it would make an appropriate engagement gift. Do you not agree, your Grace?"

He did agree, most wholeheartedly.

With the necklace in his pocket, and a page sent to every florist in town, Simon had been left with the hardest task of all - to sit down, and gather his thoughts into a certain order. It had always been easier for him, to put ink onto paper, to organize his thoughts with written word over spoken, but as he sat trying to work it out, for the first time, Simon struggled with his pen as well.

He did not know where to start, did not know how to begin. If he married Daphne, she must know that he would not be a good husband, nor a good father - and indeed, until the night before, he had never entertained the thought that he would ever be either. She should know, about his struggles , should know about the vow. He should tell her all things, bare them to her.

Lady Danbury had told him, only two days before, and how had such a short amount of time past it was unreal, that if he had made a decision to not pursue Daphne, then he should step away. He had made that decision, that he would ask if she would marry him, but she deserved all of the facts. A woman in her position... She wanted to marry for love, not for position or wealth. She should know the man that loved her, or at least, wanted to.