“Simon felt the duke’s rejection in his very bones, felt a peculiar kind of pain enter his body and creep around his heart. And, as hatred flooded his body and poured from his eyes, he made a solemn vow. If he couldn’t be the son his father wanted, then by God, he’d be the exact opposite…”

Though Simon’s speech improves by age eight, the Duke sends his son away from London, preferring to maintain the fiction his heir is dead. Simon rejects his father in return, but still structures his life around him. His plan is to thwart all the ideals of his class, and in so doing deny his father satisfaction, just as he was denied affection.

“Although This Author has never taken the time to record eye color, all eight possess similar bone structure and the same thick, chestnut hair. One must pity the viscountess as she seeks advantageous marriages for her brood that she did not produce a single child of more fashionable coloring. Still, there are advantages to a family of such consistent looks—there can be no doubt that all eight are of legitimate parentage. Ah, Gentle Reader, your devoted Author wishes that that were the case amid all large families…LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 26 APRIL 1813.”

The first offering from Lady Whistledown helps establish that Quinn is writing about the entire Bridgerton family. At the same time, Lady Whistledown engages in astute and sharp social commentary, bordering on the scandalous. She suggests that the Bridgertons are not at the height of current aesthetic standards, using this to point out that the family is at least free of scandal. She adds another layer with the reminder to her audience that other aristocratic families suggest evidence of relationships outside marriage. Whistledown, then, is the reader’s introduction to the Regency social norms of Quinn’s universe: marriage as a fundamental social institution, and sexual scandal is the greatest possible sin. These themes of family respectability, and scandal will be a key part of the coming narrative.

“Her mother could be overly inquisitive, and her father had been more interested in hounds and hunting than he’d been in society affairs, but theirs had been a warm marriage, filled with love, laughter, and children. ‘I could do a great deal worse than follow your example, Mother,’ she murmured. ‘Why, Daphne,’ Violet said, her eyes growing watery, ‘what a lovely thing to say.’”

Quinn uses Daphne and Violet’s opening conversation to establish the qualities that make the Bridgertons unique that Lady Whistledown may not be privy to. Though 19th century marriage was primarily a property arrangement, Daphne’s parents were also true romantic partners. In complimenting her mother on this, Daphne shows what her own goals are, priming the reader to wonder how Simon might come to be her romantic hero, particularly given his rejection of his father’s views of family.

“‘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.’”

This interaction between Daphne and Lady Danbury helps establish that Quinn’s characters live in a very small social world. Lady Danbury is aware not only of Nigel’s affections for Daphne, but also all of his personality flaws. Quinn uses other characters observations to flesh out Daphne’s character: Lady Danbury credits Daphne’s intelligence, assuring her that marriage to Nigel would be a betrayal of her best self.

“His tongue felt thick, his mouth felt odd, and it almost seemed as if his stutters had spread from his mouth to his body, for he suddenly didn’t even feel right in his own skin. The duke had taken advantage of Simon’s momentary lapse of reason by embracing him with a heartfelt, ‘Son.’ Simon had left the country the very next day.”

Simon’s reflections on his last meeting with his father demonstrate the depth of his trauma. He associates his father with the more troubling physical aspects of his speech impairment, but also with a kind of paralysis in his whole body. Trauma, Quinn suggests, is incapacitating, making Simon forget his new adult status. Though Simon is now in his prime, a recognized member of his elite social world, his father’s presence brings him back to his childhood of fear and rejection.

“Simon laughed. He couldn’t help it. The girl looked up, startled. Simon caught his breath. She had been in shadows until now, and all he’d been able to discern of her appearance was a wealth of thick, dark hair. But now, as she lifted her head to face him, he saw that she had large, equally dark eyes, and the widest, lushest mouth he’d ever seen. Her heart-shaped face wasn’t beautiful by society standards, but something about her quite simply sucked the breath from his body.”

Simon’s first encounter with Daphne, even before he sees her, establishes her unusual nature: she has not hesitated to punch a man, in a world with strong dictates for women’s behavior and male dominance. Simon, for his part, is not repulsed or alienated by this, but amused. Laughter will be a recurring motif in Simon’s encounters with Daphne: if his past in England was serious, his future there will be lighter.

“‘I d-don’t w-w-want to d-die,’ he said, too exhausted in mind and body to even care that he’d stammered. ‘B-but I can’t marry you.’ 

Her hands fell off his shoulders, and she lurched away. The look of pain and rejection in her eyes was almost impossible to bear. She looked so forlorn, wrapped up in her brother’s too-big coat, pieces of twigs and brambles still caught in her dark hair. When she opened her mouth to speak, it looked as if her words were ripped from her very soul.

‘I-I’ve always known that I wasn’t the sort of woman men dream of, but I never thought anyone would prefer death to marriage with me.’”

In this scene, Simon allows himself to stutter, indicating just how far past his emotional limits the incipient scandal has pushed him. Still, Simon’s lack of honesty causes Daphne pain. Quinn describes her in terms similar to a lost and bedraggled child: their illicit romantic encounter has not brought her more sophistication or proximity to adulthood, but only loss and grief. She assumes all fault lies with her, that she is somehow defective—by refusing her honesty, Simon forces her to engage in the kind of self-loathing that he did as a child. 

“He felt something suspiciously like a stammer coming on, and so he took a deep breath to steady his tongue. He’d become a master at this kind of control. All she would see was a man who looked as if he were trying to keep his temper in check.”

Here, Quinn establishes the extent to which Simon’s life is a carefully choreographed performance. Both his own internalized ableism and the dictates of society demand that he conceal his disability to the greatest extent possible. He seeks “control’ at all costs, seeing his body and his tongue as an enemy to be conquered. He further assures himself Daphne will not recognize the performance for what it is: she will assume his hesitation is only due to the dictates of politeness. Though Simon is intrigued by her, he cannot yet be honest with her.

“‘If you don’t marry and sire an heir, it will expire. Or go to some beastly cousin.’

That caused him to raise an amused brow. ‘And how do you know that my cousins are beastly?’

‘All cousins who are next in line for a title are beastly.’ She cocked her head in a mischievous manner. ‘Or at least they are according to the men who actually possess the title.’

‘And this is information you’ve gleaned from your extensive knowledge of men?’ he teased.

She shot him a devastatingly superior grin. ‘Of course.’”

For all that her characters express somewhat modern sensibilities about marriage, this exchange highlights that both Daphne and Simon are well aware of the institution’s primary purpose. Both of them acknowledge that aristocratic marriages and families exist to preserve land and privilege, and that ties between relatives are shaped by these realities.

“‘Very well,’ he replied, his lips twitching at the corners. ‘Simon, if you must.’ ‘Oh I must,’ Daphne said, rolling her eyes, ‘clearly, I must.’

He leaned toward her, something odd and slightly hot sparking in the depths of his pale eyes. ‘Must you?’ he murmured. ‘I should be very excited to hear it.’ 

Daphne had the sudden sense that he was talking about something far more intimate than the mere mention of his given name. A strange, tingling sort of heat shot down her arms, and without thinking, she jumped back a step. ‘Those flowers are quite lovely,’ she blurted out.”

Even the relatively serious decision to dispense with social formality becomes a moment of levity. Here, Simon does not hide his growing attraction to Daphne implying that hearing his name from her is an act of intimacy he anticipates. Daphne recognizes this, and while she reciprocates the attraction, she steps away from him and changes the subject. Like most women of her social standing, Daphne can only imagine what Simon’s innuendo might mean, and knows she must avoid impropriety. This moment like many others, establishes that their ostensibly fake courtship will not be easy for either to navigate given their authentic emotions.

“Finally, Hyacinth, who was seated to Daphne’s right, looked him straight in the eye, and said, ‘You don’t talk much, do you?’

Violet choked on her wine.

‘The duke,’ Daphne said to Hyacinth, ‘is being far more polite than we are, constantly jumping into the conversation and interrupting one another as if we’re afraid we might not be heard.’

‘I’m not afraid I might not be heard,’ Gregory said.

‘I’m not afraid of that, either,’ Violet commented dryly.”

Quinn uses the family dinner scene to establish the Bridgerton family as close knit and loving, full of strong personalities. Daphne’s attempt to rescue Simon emphasizes that she is aware their family dinners are far more raucous than official events. As a parent, Violet is observant and mindful, teasing Gregory as she issues orders at dinner. Later, Simon will remind Daphne that their families are very different: Due to this scene and others like it, the reader will be able to picture exactly what Simon means.

“Simon wasn’t as loquacious with others as he was with her. His words were more clipped, his tone more brusque, and his eyes echoed the hardness in his demeanor. But when they were laughing together, just the two of them poking fun at some silly society rule, his eyes changed. They grew softer, gentler, more at ease. In her more fanciful moments, she almost thought they looked as if they were melting.”

Though their courtship is not intended to be genuine, Daphne’s observations about Simon’s character establish that she does not see him as a means to marriage. Instead, she is intensely focused on what makes their relationship different from his other interactions, looking for hope that her growing affections are returned. Significantly, she focuses on his speech and behavior: though she does not know why this might be, she knows Simon speaks more easily with her.

“‘I d-don’t w-w-want to d-die,’ he said, too exhausted in mind and body to even care that he’d stammered. ‘B-but I can’t marry you.’ 

Her hands fell off his shoulders, and she lurched away. The look of pain and rejection in her eyes was almost impossible to bear. She looked so forlorn, wrapped up in her brother’s too-big coat, pieces of twigs and brambles still caught in her dark hair. When she opened her mouth to speak, it looked as if her words were ripped from her very soul.

‘I-I’ve always known that I wasn’t the sort of woman men dream of, but I never thought anyone would prefer death to marriage with me.’”

In this scene, Simon allows himself to stutter, indicating just how far past his emotional limits the incipient scandal has pushed him. Still, Simon’s lack of honesty causes Daphne pain. Quinn describes her in terms similar to a lost and bedraggled child: their illicit romantic encounter has not brought her more sophistication or proximity to adulthood, but only loss and grief. She assumes all fault lies with her, that she is somehow defective—by refusing her honesty, Simon forces her to engage in the kind of self-loathing that he did as a child.

“He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not all of it, at least. But she had to understand…If she married him…She’d be giving up more than she’d ever dreamed. He had to give her the opportunity to refuse him. She deserved that much. Simon swallowed, guilt sliding uncomfortably down his throat. She deserved much more than that, but that was all he could give her.

‘Daphne,’ he said, her name as always soothing his frazzled mouth, ‘if you marry me …’ She stepped toward him and reached out her hand, only to pull it back at his burning glare of caution.

‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘Surely nothing could be so awful that—’  

‘I can’t have children.’ There. He’d done it. And it was almost the truth.”

Simon sees his feelings for Daphne as the source of a moral dilemma. His shame at his past is too deep to give her real honesty, but he decides she has to know some version of the truth. As will become important later, he tells her he “cannot” have children, not that he refuses to. Simon does not yet examine the difference between speech and communication: he says all the words he wishes to, but Daphne cannot truly understand his needs or wishes.

“Daphne just stared at her mother in disbelief. Violet’s nervous, halting chatter was very much out of character.

‘Now then,’ Violet announced, ‘as long as you don’t have any more questions, I’ll just leave you to your, er,’—she glanced distractedly at the mementos Daphne had been shuffling through—‘whatever it is that you’re doing.’ 

‘But I do have more questions!’ Violet, however, had already made her escape. And Daphne, no matter how desperately she wanted to learn the secrets of the marital act, wasn’t about to chase her mother down the hall—in full view of all the family and servants—to find out. Besides, her mother’s talk had raised a new set of worries. Violet had said that the marital act was a requirement for the creation of children. If Simon couldn’t have children, did that mean he couldn’t perform those intimacies her mother had mentioned? And dash it all, what were those intimacies? Daphne suspected they had something to do with kissing, since society seemed so determined to make sure that young ladies keep their lips pure and chaste.”

This exchange between Daphne and Violet highlights that despite the warm relationship between the two, open discussion of sex and sexuality is not a topic Violet feels comfortable with—she feels bound by norms of propriety, especially those aimed at women of her class. The warm and adept matriarch is reduced to rambling non-sequiturs and is so desperate for an escape she ignores Daphne’s curiosity. The same propriety that constrains Violet limits Daphne as well—despite her sense of urgency, she cannot chase her mother down without creating a minor scandal. Daphne’s ruminations highlight the extent of her naiveté—she does not understand human reproduction, and Simon’s deliberately vague wording has only compounded her ignorance. Daphne is left to ponder the rules of society and what they might reveal about what sexual activity is, but only in terms of what they forbid, not what awaits her as a married person. Quinn indirectly indicts this system by creating sympathy for Daphne’s predicament—injecting more modern sensibilities for the benefit of her audience.

“His head fell into his hands, and for a moment Daphne thought he might be crying. But then, as she sat there castigating herself for making her husband weep on his wedding day, she realized that his shoulders were shaking with laughter. The fiend.

‘Are you laughing at me?’ she growled. He shook his head, not looking up. ‘Then what are you laughing about?’

‘Oh, Daphne,’ he gasped, ‘you have a lot to learn’

‘Well, I never disputed that,’ she grumbled. Really, if people weren’t so intent on keeping young women completely ignorant of the realities of marriage, scenes like this could be avoided. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes grew positively electric.

‘I can teach you,’ he whispered.”

Once more, Simon finds his usual tendency toward gravity becomes laughter in Daphne’s presence. Daphne, as always, is responsive to Simon’s emotional state, as she initially imagines her husband full of grief, and then finds herself confronting his mirth. Daphne begins their marriage at a disadvantage: Simon can, and does, attempt to choose what she learns and when.

“None of this, of course, was Daphne’s fault. He knew she had no ulterior motives when she asked about his childhood. How could she? She knew nothing of his occasional difficulties with speech. He’d worked damned hard to hide it from her. No, he thought with a weary sigh, he’d rarely had to work hard at all to hide it from Daphne. She’d always set him at ease, made him feel free.”

Simon also begins to realize the extent to which his trauma makes him inflict pain on others. He focuses on the effort he expends to hide his truths from Daphne without considering that she might deserve otherwise. At the same time, he presents their relationship as a respite from his disability he has never before experienced. Yet Simon still considers the inequity between them as “fated”—not something that is within his power to address and change, indicating that real resolution of their relationship still lies ahead.

“‘Some days I thought he’d surely shatter from the frustration of it. But he was so stubborn. Heavens, but he was a stubborn boy. I’ve never seen a person so single-minded.’ Mrs. Colson shook her head sadly. ‘And his father still rejected him. It—’   

‘Broke your heart,’ Daphne finished for her. ‘It would have broken mine, as well.’”

Significantly, Daphne learns the truth of Simon’s childhood not from him, but from the housekeeper. She is reduced to a “whisper” by the news, as though she knows she now holds forbidden knowledge. The housekeeper stresses how much Simon’s life has been motivated by sheer force of will, at great cost to his wellbeing. In this moment, the two women from very different social worlds are bound together by their “broken hearts” thinking of Simon’s cruel father.

“Simon rolled over and scooted his body next to hers, pushing her toward the clean side of the bed. He always did that, using his body as a barrier so that she would never roll into the mess he made. It was a thoughtful gesture, actually, and—Daphne’s eyes flew open. She almost gasped. A womb won’t quicken without strong, healthy seed.”

Daphne begins this moment thinking of Simon as a thoughtful, considerate partner—imagining that his post-coital gestures are about her comfort rather than his refusal to consider parenthood. Then, an epiphany strikes, as she remembers Mrs. Colson’s words, far more direct than those of her own mother. She realizes Simon has been practicing a form of contraception without informing her.

“‘No’ she cried out, shoving against him with all her might. He stumbled back, caught by surprise.

‘When you take me to bed,’ she choked out, ‘it is never just the two of us. Your father is always there.’

His fingers, which had crept up under the wide sleeve of her dressing gown, dug into her flesh. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. The icy anger in his pale blue eyes said everything.

‘Can you look me in the eye,’ she whispered, ‘and tell me that when you pull from my body and give yourself instead to the bed you’re thinking about me?’”

Daphne finds new strength, pushing Simon’s body away while also demanding more emotional honesty. She tells Simon how she sees him: so haunted by his past that his father haunts their private space. Simon may be physically stronger, but Daphne has all the emotional power. She points out that his decision to practice contraception is not a decision they made together—it has nothing to do with her needs or wishes, and everything to do with his determination to thwart his father at all costs. If previously Daphne trusted Simon and believed love would be enough, now she demands authenticity in addition to romance.

“Simon hated himself, hated the voice that had forsaken him, and hated his wife because she had the power to reduce his control to rubble. This complete loss of speech, this choking, strangling feeling—he had worked his entire life to escape it, and now she had brought it all back with a vengeance. He couldn’t let her do this. He couldn’t let her make him like he’d once been.”

At this point, Simon equates being honest with Daphne with physical and personal weakness. He “hates” Daphne because she has challenged his control and made him confront things he has tried to bury. He sees her as an adversary rather than a partner. In this moment, Simon is so overwhelmed he equates Daphne herself to a disabling force, because fluid speech is his sign of success and how he defines his lifelong fight against his father.

“‘If we have a child who stutters,’ Daphne said carefully, ‘then I shall love him. And help him. And—’ She swallowed convulsively, praying that she was doing the right thing. ‘And I shall turn to you for advice, because obviously you have learned how to overcome it.’

He turned to face her with surprising swiftness. ‘I don’t want my child to suffer as I have suffered.’ 

A strange little smile moved across Daphne’s face without her even realizing it, as if her body had realized before her mind that she knew exactly what to say.

‘But he wouldn’t suffer,’ she said, ‘because you’ll be his father.’

Simon’s face did not change expression, but his eyes shone with an odd, new, almost hopeful light.”

To assuage Simon’s fears about parenthood, Daphne stresses that disability will never be a reason she will withdraw love and support—as she has already proven with her sympathy and support for Simon once she learned the truth. She sees Simon’s past as a sign he has capacities she does not, to support a child in difficulty. Simon shows that he still equates his disability with suffering, imagining the same fate for his children. Daphne offers an alternative vision, one that takes over her body with a “strange little smile” before she articulates it, as though her heart knows the answer before her mind. She reminds Simon that the real cause of his suffering was not his speech, but abuse and neglect, and he has already resolved not to perpetuate that harm. This brings “light” to his face, reinforcing that Simon is finally being honest and considering his future.

‘“But—’ she spluttered. ‘But—but—’

‘One more ‘but,’ he teased, ‘and you’re going to start to sound like me.’

Daphne’s mouth fell open. Simon wasn’t surprised by her reaction. It was the first time in his life he’d ever been able to make a joke out of his difficulties.

‘The letters can wait,’ he said, just as they fell off her lap onto the floor. ‘I’ve just finally managed—thanks to you—to boot my father from my life.’

He shook his head, smiling as he did.”

Quinn once more uses humor to illustrate Simon and Daphne’s bond, and Simon’s character growth. Even Daphne, witness to his recent transformations, is stunned by his decision not to read the letters, He stuns her further by making a joke, being open about his difficulties without shame. By refusing to give his father space in his life, he can see himself clearly. He recognizes that Daphne’s regard is enough to move forward, even as he may someday decide to revisit his past.