Hello, everyone! In my last intro, I said it had been a really long time since I posted. And it has. To the point where I forgot how to format on this website. So this is a reuploaded first chapter, and hopefully I won't forget to do this again. This story, and hopefully more in the future for the other Bridgerton siblings, is the result of an idea that just refused to leave me alone.
I wanted to keep some elements of the show that worked, some of the structure and storylines from the books that worked, and wrap it all up in the original story that would not stop nagging at me. And so my Bridgerton modern universe was born.
The saga begins in 2009, with Daphne and Simon and their workplace fake dating romance. For the sake of time and not having weirdly underage characters down the line, I've altered the ages of the siblings and other characters for this story. For clarity, here's a list of the characters, their ages in this story, and their birth years:
Anthony - 29 (born 1980)
Benedict - 26 (born 1983)
Colin - 24 (born 1985)
Daphne - 23 (born 1986)
Eloise - 21 (born 1989)
Francesca - 20 (born 1990)
Gregory - 17 (born 1993)
Hyacinth - 15 (born 1995)
Simon - 28 (born 1981)
Without further ado, please read on. I hope you enjoy Daphne and Simon in this story as much as I do!
A Daphne Bridgerton fake relationship story
January 2009 – North Carolina, USA
Daphne Bridgerton was sweating more than she ever had before. To be fair, she had never had to do much in the way of hard physical labor with three older brothers around the house, so the previous benchmark was rather low.
But North Carolina is hot. It's hot in January. How is that even possible?
She wove through the crowd of… well, really they weren't much younger than she was. She'd been lucky—she'd only had to sort through jobs and apply for a year before landing a professorship. If she'd specialized in any other discipline, it probably would have taken her much longer. And yeah, okay, coming from one of Britain's wealthiest families helped.
But finding a position like this, where she'd not only have the freedom to teach the curriculum she wants and being on a tenure track near impossible to find either way. She was pretty determined not to screw it up.
She ducked into her office, taking a deep breath as she set down her cornflower blue briefcase and laying her navy blazer over the back of a chair. She liked blue, sue her.
"Daphne!" Professor Nigel Berbrooke poked his ruddy, pudgy face into the doorframe before his body followed. "So glad you're here."
She artfully dodged his aggressive welcoming hug and shot him a polite, if clearly uncomfortable, smile. "Nigel. I'm happy to join everyone here. I'm excited to bring art history to a new generation."
"Well, if you need someone to show you around, I'm more than happy to help. Just give me a shout." He seemed eager to stay.
"Thank you, Mr. Berbrooke, but that won't be necessary. In fact, I have a lecture in thirty minutes, and I was just about to prepare for it." She knew her upper crust London accent had a tendency to come off as aloof, and normally she tried to counter it with a smile or a joke. But for once, she really wanted that disinterest to seep into her words.
He merely stood for another moment. So she raised her eyebrows at him. She didn't make a habit of being rude, but some situations called for it. Finally, he got the hint. "Right, then. I'll leave you to it."
Then proceeded to inch back out the doorway. Daphne sunk back against her desk. She wasn't going to mess up this opportunity. No matter how much Nigel Berbrooke made her skin crawl.
Words could not express how irritating Nigel Berbrooke was. No matter how many times you gave him the cold shoulder, or were short with him, or glared at him, he couldn't get it through his thick skull that you were not friends. It was exhausting.
So exhausting that Simon Bassett spent as much time as he could at work avoiding the man. It was unfortunately hard to do when he was your boss. Which was the predicament Simon found himself in, not long after arriving at the university.
"Bassett! Have I got news for you." Simon breezed past Nigel as he entered his office. Berbrooke unfortunately just followed him inside.
"What is it, Nigel? I have to grade an exam before ten." Simon eyes bored into Nigel. Which did absolutely nothing to dampen the other man's enthusiasm.
"The new professor."
"What about him?" Simon busied himself unpacking his briefcase and turning on his computer. He wasn't kidding about needing to grade the exam.
"Her." Nigel was holding back a gleeful grin. Simon could tell from the bright red marring his pasty face.
"Pretty, is she?" Pretty Simon could work with. In fact, pretty was what he usually went for. Pretty, and largely uninteresting. They were the best partner for a no-strings fling.
"I must say, Bassett, I think there might be something there between us." Simon hated when anyone, except for a select few personal friends, called him "Bassett". Yes, it was his last name. But it was also a type of dog.
And that's all ignoring the insanity of a man as blatantly unattractive (and not just in his appearance) as Nigel Berbrooke had any shot with a passably pretty, nice girl. Berbrooke might be over the hill in the face, but it was truly his personality that repelled people. "Let's let her be, Nigel. She must be having a hard enough time settling into her first semester, we don't need to bombard her with anything else."
"That's the best part, Bassett." Simon tried to keep his eye from twitching. "She's English."
Simon glanced up, confused. "Why are there so many Brits in North Carolina?"
Nigel shook his head, not even trying to cover up his glee now. "I don't know, mate, but I'm going to offer her all my hospitality to help her fit in." It didn't need any more emphasis, but Nigel wiggled his eyebrows anyway.
"Put your tongue back in your mouth." Simon began flipping through exams. He had to admit, he'd worked his way through most of the faculty at this point (and he'd really hate to resort to sleeping with grad students), so a fresh face was an enticing idea. But he wasn't going to pant over her like Nigel was doing.
"Just wait until you see her. You'll be falling all over her, too." Simon doubted it, but he was at the end of his patience with Nigel.
"Berbrooke?"
"Yes, Bassett?"
"Get out of my office."
"Right." For once, Nigel listened to directions and beat it out of the room. Leaving only Simon, some exams, and an intriguing new idea.
How does anyone find their way around a university campus? Daphne had to have scanned dozens of rooms in this building, but had yet to find the one her lecture was being held in. She'd even left her office ten minutes before she needed to so she wouldn't be late. And now she was definitely going to be late.
And suddenly, she had a mug of coffee ready to spill in her hands. It was trapped between her chest and the very tall, very firm chest of the stranger she'd run into. It was probably her fault, too. She couldn't pay attention when she was looking down at her map.
Curious brown eyes sized her up when she finally checked to see who she'd run into. She shot the man an apologetic smile. "Sorry, this is my first day, and I'm not sure where I'm going."
"Ah, the new professor." He had quite a posh British accent himself.
"Um, yes. I would love to stay and chat, but I'm about to be late for my first lecture." She stepped back, making sure his mug of coffee was safe in his hands. "Do you think you could tell me where room 238 is?"
"Back down that hallway, take a left, then another left. It's buried among the Latin department. I swear, it's not engineering, so they think we all teach the same thing." He pointed back the way she came.
"You are a life saver, thank you!" She headed back the way she came. Halfway down the hall, she turned to find him standing right where she'd left him. "Will you be at the faculty welcome dinner Friday?"
"Depends on my mood. I'm not a huge party person." He said it with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. A relaxed elegance that spoke of an upbringing similar to her own, but a playfulness that told her this man did not take life very seriously.
"If you're there, I'll make a proper introduction." She sent him back a smile of her own, then turned and picked up the pace. She really would be late if she didn't move quickly.
And she left Simon behind her, thinking that she really was very pretty.
The week passed in a blur for Daphne. New people, new experiences…it all just blended together in one endless moving picture. All of her student teaching hadn't prepared her for the reality of being the sole person in control of these students' education. It was a lot of pressure. She always thought she'd take to being a mother quite naturally, but this experience was making her question that.
At least, for this first semester, they'd only assigned her introductory classes. She'd lecture forty to sixty students at once on the basics of art history, then she'd expand into seminars and discussion sections in the next academic year.
But even the lectures were proving a bit more difficult than she'd expected. And not because she couldn't answer the students' questions. Most of them just seemed completely disinterested in the material. She couldn't force them to like it, but she wished they'd give it a chance. It was fascinating stuff, if they'd only pay attention.
Besides, it's not like she was some old, boring woman. There were a couple of students in her lectures who were only two years younger than her.
She huffed her frustration as she got ready for the faculty welcome party. She was hoping there would be food, or she'd be eating a very late dinner when she got back. Her apartment was quite nice, thanks to the trust fund she'd been given upon her graduation from university. But she hadn't yet had a chance to unpack, so many of her belongings remained packed away in boxes. Including her clothes. Which left her sorting through a pile of garment bags that she'd laid delicately on her living room floor.
Finally, she settled on a pale blue cocktail dress with a floaty skirt that hit mid-thigh and deep v neckline. A ruffle extended from the bodice over her shoulders to the back of the dress on each shoulder. It was a bit much, but she'd always felt feminine and confident in it. And after the week she'd had, she needed every bit of confidence she could muster.
Plus, it was in "Bridgerton Blue", the color she and her siblings had designated their family color. A little touch of home from far away.
She added a dash of her favorite pink lipstick, brushed her bangs to her temples, strapped on some fashionable heels, and headed for the door. The sooner she met everyone, the sooner she could head back home and finally relax.
And at the same time, she had to hope something good might come of the night. Call her old-fashioned, but she'd always been a romantic. Nigel Berbrooke was abhorrent, but there had to be some opportunities for her. America was much bigger than London. At least here, she might not have to deal with her brother's intense protectiveness. Anthony was more overbearing than their father had been.
If nothing else, perhaps she could make a few friends. That might have to suffice.
The party was actually not that bad. Simon didn't normally socialize with his coworkers. He didn't like to give them the impression that he wanted to be friends. He wasn't a particularly rude person, but he had never had much time for small talk and banter. He had made a few friends at school and university, and that was plenty for him.
Plus, it helped keep women from thinking he was looking for a wife. Forget a girlfriend, they all wanted to marry into old British money. Apparently even these days, a title carried cache. To Americans, who had famously declared that they wanted nothing to do with royalty and nobility (ironic, given their obsession with money and wealth).
And yet, this party wasn't as miserable as he'd thought it might be. Nigel had all but forced him to come tonight, implying it might have an impact on his professional review. His students often noted his…moody, for lack of a better word, demeanor in his semester evaluations. Usually, he could remind Nigel of his class's continuous high marks and great reviews for preparing his students. But his luck had run out on that one. So schmooze he would, in hopes of getting Nigel off his back.
Thus far, he'd had a conversation with Michaela Varley, professor of economics, about the liberal arts department baseball team (why they wanted a Brit playing baseball was beyond him, but Varley didn't seem too bad), Friedrich St. John, head of the history department, about the upcoming season for the theater department (they were both partial to Shakespeare, but knew the next slate of shows included mostly musicals), and Will Mondrich, faculty advisor to the student athletes, about one of the freshman basketball players who'd grown up in Greece. Really, none of them were terrible. He wasn't actually sure why he'd never done this before.
It wasn't long after 8 PM when Charlotte Queensbury took the head of the room. "Welcome, faculty of Trinity College. We are the biggest college on campus…so yes, that does mean we're the best. And as the best, we have standards to uphold. That means we get the best evaluations, we produce the best students, and we all participate in faculty baseball. Yes, I do mean."
Simon groaned internally. This was a new development. Though he'd played cricket and polo at university, he'd never picked up a baseball bat. He'd been in America for five years and had made a point not to. Call him stuck up, but he just couldn't bring himself to stoop to that level of Americanism. He did, however, always participate in American holidays and go to cook outs. Americans do have great meat.
"Don't look so sad, Hastings." Mondrich clapped him on the back. "I promise, I'll whip our team into shape." Mondrich had started calling him "Hastings" when he'd found out that was Simon's formal title. He claimed it was like the team he was playing on, and Simon had never had the heart to make him stop.
"Are you on the liberal arts team?" Simon turned to his new friend—though even he was having a hard time deciding if he would let that be the case.
"The a good chunk of my athletes are general studies majors. That falls under liberal arts. Enough of them, that they include me on the liberal arts faculty," Mondrich did a little bow.
Simon smirked. "I suppose I have to let you teach me how to play baseball, now, don't I?"
"Before everyone hits the spiked punch, I want to extend a welcome to three new faculty members this semester." Simon and Will returned their attention to Charlotte at the head of the room. "Give all of them a warm welcome if you run into them tonight. Kent Dover is joining the political science department as an associate professor. Georgia Greene comes to us after six years with the Harvard Law School to overhaul our pre-law program. And Daphne Bridgerton has come all the way across the pond to develop a cultural art history program for us."
Simon's head snapped up. There was no way he heard that correctly. But as applause made its way around the room, Charlotte stepped down. He looked over at Mondrich, still a little off balance. "Excuse me, Mondrich, I'm going to grab a drink."
Will shot him a good-natured smile. "I see you've hit your socializing limit."
"Not at all." And shockingly, Simon actually meant it. "Just a bit thirsty." He spotted the woman from the hallway the other day weaving her way through the crowd.
He cut across the crowd and was in front of her in a few seconds. "So you're a Bridgerton, I suppose?"
"I am." She looked up at him with clear blue eyes. They were stunning. And they were now strictly off limits. "You know the Bridgertons?"
"I know a Bridgerton," he corrected. "Simon Bassett." He extended a hand. She took it, though he could tell she still couldn't quite place his name.
"I assume you know my brother, then?"
He released her hand, simply so he wouldn't put any ideas in her head. Even if she wasn't the sister of one of his oldest friends, he still didn't do relationships. And her demeanor screamed commitment. "Anthony and I were friends at Oxford. Haven't seen him in years, but we still facetime every month. I'm a bit surprised he didn't tell you I'd be here."
Daphne scoffed. He would have thought her too delicate to make that noise (most of the women who grew up in her world were), but it was indeed a scoff. "Anthony likes to play Daphne's keeper. He probably thought if I didn't know you were here, there'd be no chance that I would sleep with you."
Well, that, Simon hadn't been prepared for. But he had to appreciate her attitude. Her exasperation with her brother was apparent. "We can put his mind at ease. I have no intention of sleeping with my friend's little sister."
"I'm not that little."
Simon had to laugh at the grumpy tone of her voice. "Regardless, I'll report back to him that he can put his overprotective brother hat back on its hook."
"Thank you. Really." Her relief was palpable.
"You really did come here to get out of his range, didn't you?"
"This is a great opportunity for my career. Tenure track, developing my own program, a highly prestigious university… but yes, the fact that I am an entire ocean away from him and can date whomever I choose did sweeten the deal." She ran a hand down her floaty blue dress. Bridgerton Blue, he noted.
"Dating here is… different from what you're used to." A frown marred her forehead. "Just be prepared."
"Or perhaps your strategy of having sex with every woman on campus but not giving any of them more has backfired on you." She shot him a sweet smile. He had to appreciate her cheekiness.
"Yes, maybe it's that."
"Oh, no." Her admittedly lovely face scrunched into a grimace, and she looked around wildly for an escape.
"What?" Simon turned around and saw Nigel Berbrooke approaching them. And she had run out of time to escape.
So instead, he acted on instinct. He grabbed her hand, keeping her in place beside him. "Berbrooke. Good to see you tonight."
Nigel's slimy gaze zeroed in on their hands. "You work fast, Bassett."
"Actually, I don't." Simon was a bit surprised how quickly the lie rolled off of his tongue. "Daphne is the sister of my old friend Anthony. We might have had… feelings for a while, but with me here and her back in London, nothing made sense. But we're both here now."
"I see." Nigel finally looked over at Simon, barely containing his anger. "But you were confused about the new professor."
"I thought you might be referring to Miss Greene. Since I already knew Daphne was here, it didn't occur to me that you might mean her." Daphne had managed to school her features into polite agreement, but he could practically feel the confusion rolling off of her.
"Well, perhaps I might see you again later tonight, Daphne." Nigel turned his attention to her. "I would love to show you around some more."
"I'm not sure I'll be available later tonight, Nigel, but thank you for the offer." She sent him a cool smile.
"If you'll excuse us, I think we're going to find the punch." Simon tugged her along behind him until they were well out of Berbrooke's sight. And into the hallway.
Daphne had certainly not predicted this when she had taken the job in December. "Simon, what was all of that?"
"I think I have an answer to our problems. Both of them." He'd released her hand, but she kind of missed the comfort of having his heat right there.
"You do?" She knew she sounded a bit like a dumb idiot, but it had to be said.
"You want to have new experiences with new men now that Anthony can't watch your every move. I want the women of this campus to know I have no intention of ever settling down. This is a win-win."
"How is this a win-win?" The wheels in her head spun as she tried to make sense of his plot. "I will be perceived as in a relationship, so none of the men will go after me. You want women to believe you won't settle down, so you show that that you're settling down?"
"Okay, I'll amend my problem. I want them to stop begging me for more from our relationships. If they think I'm seriously dating someone, they will not be asking me to seriously date them."
She had to admit it did make sense. "So what about my problem?"
"Ah, your problem." She tried not to like it when the words rolled off of his tongue. His voice felt familiar and new all at the same time. "You're thinking about it like a well-off Englishwoman would. You have to think of it as an American. What do American men want? The very thing they can't have. You're a very beautiful woman, they might flock to you anyway. But they certainly will if they see you on my arm."
"So this is a mutually beneficial arrangement." His explanation seemed plausible. It might be worth a shot.
"I'd say so." He turned to her. "As long as you and I have no interest in dating each other for real, I think it's the perfect plan."
"No worries there." She scoffed again. She realized she'd never made that sound as often as she had in the past week in her life.
He extended his hand. "So are you in?"
"On one condition. Anthony can't find out."
"Good call." His agreement gave her the confidence to meet his hand in the middle. They shook on the deal. "Welcome to Duke, Daphne."
