Hello again, everyone! Welcome to the wedding we've all been waiting for. Little Frannie is a married woman. And we're getting a handful of Easter eggs here, so keep an eye out. Enjoy!

Chapter Ten

Francesca Bridgerton was now Francesca Stirling. It had been a truly beautiful ceremony. In what Simon was certain was Violet's influence, flowers cascaded from the ceiling, crept down the walls, and spilled across the floor in violet, lilac, and wine rivers. The altar had been standing tall in front of a crowd of a few hundred people—again Violet's influence, he was sure.

And yet Simon had sat for the blessedly short thirty-minute ceremony, trying to get rid of the strange tightness in his chest. It wasn't acid and he wasn't having a heart attack. But the uncomfortable sensation wouldn't go away. Now he sat at the equally floral reception—this time in the hotel's courtyard, with a dance floor open to the night air and the tables arranged behind the columns. Candles and those dripping flowers sat along the center of each of the four long tables to light the walkway behind the columns. He sipping on a whiskey glass in the corner at his assigned seat, feeling like a thorn stuck in the world's most romantic garden.

"Well, don't you look all dark and mysterious." Simon glanced over to find Hyacinth, sporting her satin gown in that Bridgerton blue the whole family wore tonight, sliding into the seat next to him.

"I have been told I brood, but I'm not sure I agree with that." He noticed the slightly put-out look on her impish young face. "What's got you all…upset?" It felt foreign to be asking, but he did feel bad that she clearly looked annoyed.

"Just some boys from school that are here." She rolled her eyes. "My mother invited them."

Simon followed her line of sight to Gregory, where he was laughing raucously with three other boys of roughly his age. One tall and skinny with a shaggy mop of hair, another stocky with ruddy cheeks and ginger hair, and the third… "Is that Gareth?"

"You know Gareth?" Hyacinth was surprised. "And I thought I liked you."

"Gareth St. Clair? Tall guy over there with the dark hair?" He saw Hyacinth's eyes narrow. "He's sort of like my little brother. Lady D's grandson. He's not so bad. What did he do to you to make you dislike him so much?" Simon had to admit, he was entertained by her ire. She was such a teenager.

"I got stuck in a closet with him for seven minutes in heaven. Nothing happened." She rushed to assure him that he didn't have to hear the gory details of her hookup with his pseudo brother. "But we finally got out of that closet after the most awkward seven minutes of my life, and those two start laughing. And he tells them nothing happened. There is a sanctity in seven minutes in heaven, Simon. What happens in the closet, stays in the closet." Hyacinth was a lot of things, but she was never, ever boring. He'd only seen her a few times on video calls before this, but even he knew that.

"Nothing happened in the closet," Simon pointed out. He looked over at Gareth. He'd known the boy since he was born, but often went months on end without seeing him. By the time Gareth was born, Simon was almost off to university. Then Gareth had left to live with his father's brother in Texas. He'd spent his time growing up between his uncle's and Lady D's in London. His mother had passed away shortly after he was born, and his father was right up there with Simon's own in the hall of fame for shit fathers.

He'd grown up since Simon had last seen him. He was now almost as tall as Simon himself at just eighteen. His shoulders broad and his legs strong, he was built like the rugby player he had been in high school. A short crop of curly black hair sat atop his head. His jaw was wide and strong, with a shadow of scruff growing in. The same full, wide lips of Lady D, and the same warm, tanned skin. He'd always been a popular kid, but Simon couldn't help but see the same walls he himself had put up in Gareth's face. He was laughing, but he wasn't putting his full attention into the conversation he was in.

"I thought I liked you, Simon. You were good for Daphne. I'm pretty sure I saw her and Eloise smiling at each other earlier, and there has been a shocking lack of fighting between her and Anthony the past few days. But I was clearly wrong. You are no help at all." While Simon tried to ignore the clench in his chest he felt at the mention of Daphne's name, Hyacinth had a point.

Simon turned to her for the first time in their conversation, actually serious for the first time. "You're an awesome kid, and it's his loss for not at least trying to talk to you in the closet. I promise, guys don't get better about that for at least another five years. But if you want them to take you seriously, then show them how great you are."

Hyacinth mulled it over. "You might have a point. Well, you definitely have a point—I am awesome. But you might have a point on the other part, too." She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek as she slid herself back out of the seat and headed away.

The food was incredible. While Daphne knew Francesca liked to eat as much as the other Bridgertons (scratch that, no one liked to eat as much as Colin), she had a suspicion this was yet another detail in the long line of details that Violet had foisted on the marriage. Really, Daphne suspected that if Francesca and John had planned the wedding on their own, the whole Bridgerton bunch and the Stirlings would have been on the side of a cliff in St. Andrews for a quiet affair followed by a delicious meal. She was certain Francesca enjoyed the big to do, but it wasn't really her style.

But the crowd was doing a good job of distracting her. Seven siblings and a sometimes-meddling mother made it impossible to dwell on the fact that Simon was sitting across the courtyard from her. She had been so worried about seeing him, that things would be awkward or that everyone would find out why they broke up (a secret Anthony was doing remarkably well at keeping). In reality, she'd spotted him from across the room in the ceremony, lit by the soft white late afternoon sunlight and surrounded by the lush purple flowers, and she'd known why the whole thing had hurt so much.

She was in love with him.

She wasn't sure why that was the moment she knew it. Maybe the fact that she'd started a new chapter with her siblings had freed up some space in her head to process her feelings. Maybe she'd simply never seen him in such a romantic light. Maybe she'd really changed as a person because of him and was seeing the world through new eyes. Whatever the reason, she was in love with him, and that was now abundantly clear.

She'd seen him talking to Hyacinth, and though he'd appeared quite uncomfortable at first, flashes of amusement had flickered across his face. It was a bittersweet sight. He might think he was spiting his father by never having kids, but he would be depriving the world of kids he raised. Maybe he'd come to the same conclusion someday. Until then, the female staff of UNC were a lucky bunch.

"Any interest in salmon roe crostini with tarragon?" The much less uppercrust accent caught Daphne's attention. She noticed one of the waitresses by their table. She certainly stood out, with her multitude of piercings, both in her ears and nose, the sleek black hair pinned up behind her head with a pair of hair sticks. Her dark eyeliner and oxblood lipstick stood out against her cool honey skin. Daphne had to admire her confidence in a crowd that tended to ruthlessly beat the individuality out of every. And, she was back to Simon.

"Yes, please." Colin squirreled a few away onto his plate. He glanced over at Daphne, the only other one of their siblings sitting at the table. "I heard you were giving out super nice compliments to everyone. Where's mine?"

Daphne shot a glare at Eloise, who was in the middle of the dance floor. Her best friend since childhood, Penelope Featherington, was beside her. For once, Penelope had found a dress that flattered her generous figure—usually her mother, Portia, one of the busybody mothers than ran in Violet's circles, had told her to wear yellow. It simply didn't work with her rosy complexion, copper curls, and pink lips.

But tonight's dress, a forest green with gauzy long sleeves and a skirt that fluttered around her thighs and ended at her knees, made her coloring stand out and the only pair of breasts Daphne had ever been jealous of look truly spectacular. And yet, she was still sticking close to Eloise. Her confidence had never been the best.

Francesca and John were with them, with Michael and the man Daphne had been told was one of John's childhood friends, Phillip Crane, nearby. While Penelope was attempting to dance in her own shy way, Phillip looked completely uncomfortable on the dance floor. He was tall, and in Daphne's expert opinion, looked a bit like a Greek sculpture of antiquity. Curly reddish brown hair, a lean build, full lips, and unfairly long eyelashes framing his deep blue eyes. He might be leaner than a rugby player, but he certainly looked in shape. Perhaps he, like Penelope, was lacking in confidence.

"I have never seen anyone put down fancy hors d'oeuvres like you. And you know I've seen a lot of people eat." Daphne returned her attention to her brother. Truthfully, Colin had always been the brother she'd been most at ease with. In addition to being the closest in age, Colin had always been a little bit quieter, a little more introspective. Not to mention, Daphne could deeply relate to his quarter life crisis. She'd escape to Greece for six months if she could, too.

"Funny." He rolls his eyes, then frowns at her. "Wait, that was actually sort of funny. What have you done with my sister?"

"Locked her in my basement. But if you're nice, I might let you visit." Daphne shot him a grin. It felt almost freeing to joke with him.

"Alright, Eminem, settle down." He grinned at her, then ate one of the crostini.

She shook her head. When she said no one out down food like Colin, she was serious. But his giant stomach also came with a huge heart, and he was shockingly perceptive. "Why are you here with me, and not out on the dance floor?"

"Eloise and Pen are out there, and you know how twitchy Eloise is." Colin motioned out to the dance floor, where Eloise was indeed flailing around the floor, barely missing most of the poor souls around her. She could see Phillip Crane ducking Eloise's sharp little elbows.

Daphne sent a wry smile to her brother. "You could simply dance away from them." The expression on Colin's face made it clear that this had not occurred to him. "I know you're away traveling a lot, but you're always around when I need you. I want to keep in touch with you more."

He was giving her a confused look, but smiled anyway. It was, coincidentally, his default expression. "I am always a phone call away. Though I can't guarantee I'll always be in the same time zone."

"I always assumed you'd be off doing more interesting things than I was, so I didn't want to bore you with my life. My first-world existential crisis is nowhere near as fascinating as the history of the Greek isles." She ducked her head. Maybe the two glasses of champagne she'd had had made her tongue looser than normal.

"Are you kidding?" Colin's genuinely surprised tone draw her wary gaze.

"I was not kidding, but I see you have a differing opinion."

"You want to know why I travel so much?" He raised his eyebrows, a sure sign he was enthusiastic about the topic. "I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. Anthony has the practice, once he decides to take it over. Ben is an artist, even though he likes to pretend he's not. Eloise's calling is feminism, no matter what she does for work. Francesca is still figuring out her career, but she's now got John. Greg and Hy don't have to know anything about their future's yet, but they're going to figure it out. It always made me feel so much better that someone else was there with me. I wasn't just the family failure for not having everything figured out. And you got there eventually. It makes me hope I can, too."

"Wow." Daphne almost never found herself speechless, but she felt it then. "I have always felt like the family let down. Like no one ever knew what I was doing with my life, and yet they still disapproved. I had no idea you felt that way."

"It seems like we really should talk more, especially while I'm away."

"It does, indeed." She sent him a content smile. It had been a long time since she'd felt content. And she knew that life after Simon wouldn't be so bad. Because as lonely as she felt now, her family would always be there, as sappy as that sounded.

"Would you like to dance, sister?" Colin held out his hand to Daphne, the music having slowed to a gentle sway.

"Why, yes, I would." She took his hand, and they made their way out onto the dance floor. It was a beautiful night, warm but with a pleasant breeze that brushed through the crowd. The only thing marring the perfect conditions were the clouds crawling past the stars.

They joined the cluster on the dance floor, next to Francesca and John sharing a dance in their own little world. Violet was dancing with Anthony, clearly exasperated by something he'd said. Eloise and Pen tried to keep their giggles to a minimum as they twirled around playfully. Even Benedict had drawn Lady D into the festivities.

But the peace was not to last. A gasp—and a strangled growl that sounded suspiciously like Anthony—broke out from behind Daphne and Colin. When they turned, it was to find Hyacinth on her toes, pressing a firm kiss to Gareth St. Clair's mouth.

"Hyacinth!" Gregory's shout of disapproval caught Simon's attention from where he sat in the shadows. He found himself, without thinking about it, pushing his way onto the dance floor to find the source of the commotion. And he found his very surprised pseudo-brother being gifted with a determined kiss from Hyacinth.

When he'd told her to make them take her seriously, this was not what he meant. But, biting back a smile, he couldn't help but think she had picked a good tactic. No teenage boy could possibly think her too prudish after witnessing a kiss like that.

Unfortunately, the commotion had attracted Anthony, who was on his way over to plant a fist in Gareth's face. Hyacinth finally broke away from Gareth, who was still stunned by the turn of events, and smirked. "Have a good time at university." And she slipped back through the crowd.

Simon saw Anthony getting closer. He patted an equally-stunned Gregory on the shoulder and nodded back into the crowd. "You might want to make sure she's not pissed at you. That was about proving a point, not true love." He hated the impulse to search out Daphne in the crowd when he said "true love". Gregory, thankfully, accepted his advice and dashed off after Hyacinth.

Simon couldn't help but sympathize with the expression on Gareth's face. When a Bridgerton woman—no matter if she was fifteen or twenty-four—kissed you like that, it stayed with you. But he also wanted to make sure Gareth knew the lesson to be learned here. "That'll teach you not to make her look immature in front of your friends."

For the first time, he saw Gareth's expression change. And just in time for Anthony to arrive. "Gareth—"

"Don't worry, Bridgerton, he didn't defile your sister." Simon held Anthony off with a hand to his chest. He wasn't sure where he and Anthony stood at that point, but he was certain his old friend would not take kindly to an aggressive approach. "She kissed him."

"She's fifteen! She doesn't know what she's doing." A vein might burst on Anthony's face if he wasn't careful.

"That exact attitude is why she did it." How Anthony could still not see what he did to his sisters was beyond Simon. Though he couldn't claim that he would understand if he hadn't gotten to know Daphne so well.

"You're going to insist you know my sisters better than I do again, aren't you?" Anthony's ire at Gareth had mostly waned, allowing the likely-traumatized kid to slink off unnoticed. The crowd around them had largely dissipated, though the Bridgerton family—except for Francesca, who seemed determined to not let her family's antics get to her on her wedding day—remained clustered around.

"I've never said that." Simon shook his head. Clearly his relationship with Daphne wasn't the only one he'd bungled.

"No, you simply went behind my back with one of them." Anthony could certainly hold a grudge.

"Have we not discussed the fact that I made the decision to date Simon, not the other way around?" Daphne interjected from across the small circle of Bridgertons, and it was Simon's first real look at her since he'd spent the ceremony trying not to look at her. Why did she have to look so good? Holding her ground against Anthony only made her more attractive. He had well a truly fucked with a good thing.

At least Anthony appeared sufficiently cowed. "Right."

Violet subtly nudged her children away from the scene. She might not have always known what to do with Daphne in the past, but she seemed to know to give her some space now.

"If I had known it would upset you this much, I—" he was about to say he wouldn't have done it, but without even looking at Daphne, couldn't make himself say it.

"I would be much more upset with you if you finished that sentence." Anthony watched him with the faintest hint of a smirk. "We'll be fine, Bassett. Just give me a little while to get over the sting."

"Come on now, Bridgerton, don't cry on me." Simon grinned, feeling relieved at Anthony's assurance that their friendship would survive. He didn't consider himself a very emotional person, but losing his best friend and his…whatever he considered Daphne in one go would have been quite a blow.

"You realize what you just did, right?" This seemed to be Anthony's cryptic revenge, if the mischievous smirk was anything to go by. "You parented Hyacinth."

Anthony left Simon with that realization he didn't want to find his mother for a dance. And Simon was left standing in front of Daphne. Everyone around them had resumed dancing to the Jason Mraz song the string quartet had struck up.

He stood, hands in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, trying not to stare at her. He already felt like an ass for how their relationship ended, and now he was forced to face the fact that perhaps he'd always been wrong about becoming a father.

Thankfully, Daphne took pity on him. "Come on, dance with me, Bassett."

"You're calling me Bassett now, too?" He asked, mostly to distract himself from how her body felt under his hands, albeit through that gauzy lavender maid-of-honor dress.

"I thought I should try it out. I think I like Simon better." She smiled at him as they swayed slowly to the music. "Plus, I thought I should try to break the tension."

"Tension? I don't know what you're talking about." But he couldn't bring himself to hide his smile.

He didn't know how to start a conversation with her. He had messed up, and he wanted to apologize. But he couldn't yet make himself admit that his problem with parenting, and thus the way he'd lived his life for almost three decades, was possibly incorrect. But he was saved by a few droplets of rain falling from the clouds overhead. And within seconds, the rain increased from a few droplets to a downpour. The guests dashed from the courtyard to under the overhang, where the staff was ushering guests inside. Simon followed the crowd as they headed in, blinking the rain out of his eyes. But he realized Daphne wasn't behind him.

For the first time in quite a while, it wasn't hot. It felt almost ironic that the rain had come then. Really, it was more symbolic than anything else. What was that Natasha Bedingfield song? "Unwritten". Like the rain was washing away Daphne's fears of Simon hating her. She no longer cared, because things couldn't really get worse between them. Besides, keeping all of these feelings inside was exhausting.

"Are you coming?" Simon was standing a few feet away, on his way to the door with everyone else. His brows were drawn together, marring his perfect features. The rain dripped down his face, but he seemed more concerned by her actions than the rain. And she decided it was time to come clean.

"I'm sorry for pushing. I didn't know how much of a nerve I was hitting, and I'm sorry I got so upset about you lying. I should have been more understanding, and I definitely shouldn't have pushed you once you told me what your line was." It felt good to get this off of her chest. "I'm sorry, because I love you. Well, not because I love you, but I do, and I am sorry. I love you, and I know I won't be the only one who does. I know you don't believe it because of what you father did to you, but you deserve it. And some day, I hope you accept it. That woman will be lucky.

A person doesn't need to be flawless to be loved. If that were the case, no one on the planet would ever be worthy of love. But it is not true, and I am proof of that. Because I love you. Every imperfection you think makes you unworthy is what makes me love you. It is because of your flaws that I love you. And none of them will make me stop loving you."

She knew he didn't know what to say. But she felt free. "I know we agreed to keep up appearances until the summer, so thank you for that. I don't expect anything going forward, so you're welcome to do and see whoever you want. Thank you for helping me. I can't tell you how much you've meant to my life."

He continued to stand in the rain, his face an impassive mask. She wished, for the first time, that she could see into his mind. She'd always assumed what he was feeling, and he'd never really volunteered the information. But she wanted to know for sure, and if he wouldn't tell her, she wanted to be able to read it in his head. It seems it wasn't to be.

"I'll see you around, Simon." She sent him a small smile as she passed him through the rain inside. And left him standing in the downpour, alone with his thoughts.