It began innocently enough at a Bridgerton ball, though “innocent” rarely described interactions with Daphne. She moved through the room like sunlight over satin, catching the eye of every gentleman present—most notably the Duke of Hastings himself, who stood near the fireplace with his signature smirk.

You, however, had other intentions. You didn’t merely admire Daphne; you were determined to earn her attention, and subtly, strategically, without causing a scandal.

As the orchestra swelled, the Duke approached Daphne with a confident air. “May I have the next dance?” he asked, bowing low, all charm and precision.

Daphne smiled politely. “Of course, my Duke.”

You stepped forward, just as another waltz began. “Might I accompany you for this one?” you said, bowing ever so slightly, just enough to catch her off guard.

Daphne’s eyes sparkled—not with shock, but with amusement. “You are… persistent,” she whispered, letting you take her hand.

The Duke’s smile didn’t falter, though there was a flicker in his eyes as he observed you from across the room. A challenge had begun.

At the next gathering, you engaged Daphne in playful repartee near the refreshment table, dropping clever compliments and teasing remarks that drew her laughter.

“So,” you said, handing her a glass of punch, “you dance as well as you command attention?”

She smirked. “And here I thought only the Duke believed he could monopolize the room.”

Across the room, the Duke raised an eyebrow. He approached casually, voice low and sharp: “Careful, I might grow jealous of your… charm.”

You grinned. “Jealousy is unbecoming, Your Grace. Though I must admit, I do enjoy our friendly rivalry.”

Daphne laughed, her gaze flicking between the two of you. The thrill in her eyes was unmistakable.

At the following soirée, you arranged for Daphne to notice a particularly rare flower in the garden—a private moment where she could admire it in peace. You appeared beside her with a smooth comment about its rarity, eliciting a delighted laugh.

The Duke, ever perceptive, appeared moments later. “Ah, I see my companion has discovered the exotic tulip,” he said, voice teasing. “I had intended it for a quiet stroll.”

You bowed slightly. “Perhaps some things are best shared. Even with… worthy competition.”

Daphne’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “I seem to find myself in the company of two very determined gentlemen.”

Weeks passed, the tension and flirtation weaving a delicate web. The Duke realized your intentions were genuine, your wit sharp enough to match his own, your charm subtle but impossible to ignore.

One evening, while Daphne excused herself to retrieve her fan, the Duke leaned toward you. “You’re clever, I’ll give you that,” he said, voice low. “But be warned—she always keeps her heart just out of reach.”