[ Daphne Bridgerton was supposed to enter society in London. It was all set up, planned out, meticulously carved out since she was a small child — how she would dazzle society when finally she came of age.
Life, as it often chooses, does not go according to plan. Wrenches are thrown, plans go off rail, and Germany takes Poland, brutal and imperialist. The world runs red. Daphne learns the word fascism. The word sticks in her head.
Instead, she turns eighteen in the blizzard cold of New York, far from her home and everything she knows, relegated there by her eldest brother. She'd never been to New York before, that far-flung place of promise and arrogance. Pick yourself up by the bootstraps, that's what these Americans are all about.
She had known what he was doing when he made them pack and seen them onto the ship. She had railed at him in private — but Anthony did not listen. He could not afford to.
Much of the time, it's as if nothing is happening in the Americas. Neutrality elected over the right thing. Sometimes the adults speak in terse, quiet words. They read the newspaper columns, listen to the radio. War looms on the horizon — but Americans do not heed the call. Not yet.
Tensions are rising. Another party that week, and she knows it to be a distraction, though Daphne isn't one to turn down the opportunity to socialize.
She's at the piano when she notices him, tinkling out a tune for the hosts. A young man mingling with the crowd, a little older than herself she judges. His hair is slicked back, and the smile on his lips is charming, but — there's something else. She notices him; she's not sure why no one else seems to.
She sees him again on the balcony, a thin cigarette perched between her fingers. ]
( Bucky isn't actually supposed to be at this party. Steve had wanted to sneak in to find some famous artist and Bucky had decided to follow along to make sure he wouldn't get into trouble he couldn't get himself out of. They think he's the delinquent when really he's only delinquent because Steve keeps finding trouble.
So he's in a borrowed suit nursing a glass of whiskey that's probably worth more than his next three paychecks and he's just trying not to be noticed while keeping an eye out for Steve. He doesn't expect to actually be spoken to by anyone, much less a beautiful woman.
She asks his name. Everyone cals him Bucky but it suddenly does not seem formal enough for this world. He won't see her again anyway. )
[ She echoes, and it sounds like she's tasting his name, rolling the letters of it around in her mouth.
Where she comes from, everything is very formal. Society, that is. Not her family, per se. They had a tendency to eschew such trivialities with each other, but Daphne was very aware of all the etiquette. All the right things to do and say.
But they're not in England, not Europe at all. This is America. It's New York, and even the upper crust of society here is less rigid than the one she had grown up in. Certainly less so at a party that was populated by younger adults, Wall Street boys and their friends.
She tips her chin at him, evaluating. The moonlight spills over their forms, music rolls out from the open door. ]
I'm Daphne, James. [ She doesn't offer her last name — but he hadn't offered his first. ]
Well, lucky to meet you, Daphne. I think you're the only woman who's talked to me all night. You have to be the bravest girl at the ball to walk right up. I like that. Strong character.
( Bucky had been trying to keep his head down and that had worked pretty well. Otherwise, he thinks he might have gotten at least a little attention even in a place like this - until they realized his shoes are a half size too small and his suit is an inch or two too big. Nobody else has that kind of mistake in their outfit. )
I don't think I've ever met anyone from England before. Vacation or recent resident?
Third option: unwilling resident, [ she chimes back, with the air of one telling a joke. But like most jokes, there's a kernel of truth. Not willing in these circumstances, but Daphne makes the best of things. She has that gift, born of being the eldest daughter in a family of eight.
Her body curves more his way, showing favor for him over the view. The streets below them bustle with life. It's ten past nine, the night has only just begun. ]
Life passes you by if you aren't bold. I believe I once read that somewhere. [ She takes a sip from the cigarette, then holds it out in offer toward him. Her eyes don't waver from his. ]
( Maybe he's a poor boy from Brooklyn but he took Latin in school and was damned good at it - fortune favors the bold is hardly a taxing phrase for his lexicon.
He takes the cigarette she offers and takes a drag before passing it back. Smoking has always been a social thing for him, a way to extend a conversation or start one off, and he's glad for it because it means he can talk to her more. )
But if you're an unwilling resident, I guess it's because of the war? If they end up dragging us into it, I might be an unwilling resident of your country eventually. They haven't announced a draft yet.
[ Daphne's eyes spark like the end of the cigarette, seeking and finding and satisfied by the discovery all at once. Maybe he isn't from here, not this ring of the social ladder — she can tell from the drape of his suit — but he certainly rises to the occasion. That had been the very proverb she was referencing.
Her expression of glory dips, but she deftly covers it by returning the cigarette to her mouth and turning her head just so to look back down over the railing. Somewhere below, a car honks obnoxiously. ]
Maybe. And maybe you'll find English hospitality to your liking.
[ Her blue eyes flicker back to his, her expression both curious and challenging. ]
You don't think it's the right thing to do, then? Join the fight against the Germans?
It's the right thing to do but nobody wants to go to war. I guess it's different here. We still have the choice to think about it a little longer because we aren't being invaded. You don't get a choice when hell's on your doorstep.
( Bucky looks over at Daphne, really looks, and realizes that no matter how good he is with women - and he's good - he's out of his league with a woman like this. This woman is absolutely out of reach. )
I think it's the right thing to do. I'm just not volunteering to die yet.
[ She can feel his eyes on her, and her skin prickles in kind. She doesn't return his gaze — she's at a loss. Both for what was said, the morbidity of it, and the feeling stirring inside her. Something new, something different. Is it because he's not like her? He's not from here.
After a moment, she nods. ]
You're right. But I do not know what to say to that.
[ She hesitates, just a second's worth, then volunteers: ]
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it that way. I should have realized you'd have at least one person in the war.
( Bucky gives her what he hopes is an apologetic smile but he doesn't know how you apologize for something like that. He just has to try his best. )
They're all officers, right? I assume they probably are. They have a good chance. I'd have to work my way up from enlisted so my chances are way worse.
It's all any of us can think about. I don't blame you for bringing it up when you have three brothers in the middle of it.
( Bucky smiles conspiratorily and points out Steve where he's still inside the party. )
That guy? He's my best friend. He wants to go to England and sign up even though America's not even in the war yet. He is real big on doing the right thing even if it's gonna get him killed. We need more people like him and less like me, I think. I'm more cautious.
[ It doesn't seem like it, she nearly says. But that's not true. This party is intended to dazzle them away from the threat of war, isn't it? Those that aren't already entangled in it. That haven't already seen their loved ones off.
She cranes her head and follows his finger to the source. A small man in a slightly too-big suit, seated on a table, talking animatedly with someone she remembers to be a contemporary artist.
In her eyes, a similar conspiratorial gleam. ]
Are you cautious about everything? Even stealing into parties you weren't invited to?
Oh? And how do you know I'm not the son of an oil tycoon or a banker? I could own a newspaper, you don't know.
( Bucky grins at her and then gives her a wink. Surely one girl knowing he snuck in isn't going to get him tossed out, is it? If it does, it does. Steve's being a hell of a lot more overt about making a splash than he is. )
[ Daphne can't quite keep a straight face, but she tries. If he was the son of an oil tycoon, she'd eat her left sock. ]
You may fool them, [ she jerks her chin at the occupants inside the house. ] But I am not so easily taken in. I am far more discerning. [ Mock ego, but it's not all ego. Surely someone else had noticed, but nobody else had said anything. She's suddenly grateful for that. ]
Not Manhattan, that's for damn sure. I'm from Brooklyn. My buddy and I took the train up here because he wanted to sneak in. No idea where he heard about a party like this even existing, though.
( Bucky gives her a curious look. )
Do you like it here? Not just New York - Manhattan specifically?
[ Her eyes glint as she watches him. She's watching him too closely, too much. Someone else would notice, were there anyone else to notice. ]
I would like it a great deal more under different circumstances. [ A non-answer if ever there was one. She follows it up before he can make the observation: ]
It's different than London. Much more... liberal, I suppose. Very lively. Young might be the word I'm looking for.
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no subject
Life, as it often chooses, does not go according to plan. Wrenches are thrown, plans go off rail, and Germany takes Poland, brutal and imperialist. The world runs red. Daphne learns the word fascism. The word sticks in her head.
Instead, she turns eighteen in the blizzard cold of New York, far from her home and everything she knows, relegated there by her eldest brother. She'd never been to New York before, that far-flung place of promise and arrogance. Pick yourself up by the bootstraps, that's what these Americans are all about.
She had known what he was doing when he made them pack and seen them onto the ship. She had railed at him in private — but Anthony did not listen. He could not afford to.
Much of the time, it's as if nothing is happening in the Americas. Neutrality elected over the right thing. Sometimes the adults speak in terse, quiet words. They read the newspaper columns, listen to the radio. War looms on the horizon — but Americans do not heed the call. Not yet.
Tensions are rising. Another party that week, and she knows it to be a distraction, though Daphne isn't one to turn down the opportunity to socialize.
She's at the piano when she notices him, tinkling out a tune for the hosts. A young man mingling with the crowd, a little older than herself she judges. His hair is slicked back, and the smile on his lips is charming, but — there's something else. She notices him; she's not sure why no one else seems to.
She sees him again on the balcony, a thin cigarette perched between her fingers. ]
What is your name?
no subject
So he's in a borrowed suit nursing a glass of whiskey that's probably worth more than his next three paychecks and he's just trying not to be noticed while keeping an eye out for Steve. He doesn't expect to actually be spoken to by anyone, much less a beautiful woman.
She asks his name. Everyone cals him Bucky but it suddenly does not seem formal enough for this world. He won't see her again anyway. )
It's James. What about you?
no subject
[ She echoes, and it sounds like she's tasting his name, rolling the letters of it around in her mouth.
Where she comes from, everything is very formal. Society, that is. Not her family, per se. They had a tendency to eschew such trivialities with each other, but Daphne was very aware of all the etiquette. All the right things to do and say.
But they're not in England, not Europe at all. This is America. It's New York, and even the upper crust of society here is less rigid than the one she had grown up in. Certainly less so at a party that was populated by younger adults, Wall Street boys and their friends.
She tips her chin at him, evaluating. The moonlight spills over their forms, music rolls out from the open door. ]
I'm Daphne, James. [ She doesn't offer her last name — but he hadn't offered his first. ]
no subject
( Bucky had been trying to keep his head down and that had worked pretty well. Otherwise, he thinks he might have gotten at least a little attention even in a place like this - until they realized his shoes are a half size too small and his suit is an inch or two too big. Nobody else has that kind of mistake in their outfit. )
I don't think I've ever met anyone from England before. Vacation or recent resident?
no subject
Her body curves more his way, showing favor for him over the view. The streets below them bustle with life. It's ten past nine, the night has only just begun. ]
Life passes you by if you aren't bold. I believe I once read that somewhere. [ She takes a sip from the cigarette, then holds it out in offer toward him. Her eyes don't waver from his. ]
no subject
( Maybe he's a poor boy from Brooklyn but he took Latin in school and was damned good at it - fortune favors the bold is hardly a taxing phrase for his lexicon.
He takes the cigarette she offers and takes a drag before passing it back. Smoking has always been a social thing for him, a way to extend a conversation or start one off, and he's glad for it because it means he can talk to her more. )
But if you're an unwilling resident, I guess it's because of the war? If they end up dragging us into it, I might be an unwilling resident of your country eventually. They haven't announced a draft yet.
no subject
Her expression of glory dips, but she deftly covers it by returning the cigarette to her mouth and turning her head just so to look back down over the railing. Somewhere below, a car honks obnoxiously. ]
Maybe. And maybe you'll find English hospitality to your liking.
[ Her blue eyes flicker back to his, her expression both curious and challenging. ]
You don't think it's the right thing to do, then? Join the fight against the Germans?
no subject
( Bucky looks over at Daphne, really looks, and realizes that no matter how good he is with women - and he's good - he's out of his league with a woman like this. This woman is absolutely out of reach. )
I think it's the right thing to do. I'm just not volunteering to die yet.
no subject
After a moment, she nods. ]
You're right. But I do not know what to say to that.
[ She hesitates, just a second's worth, then volunteers: ]
All three of my elder brothers are in the war.
no subject
( Bucky gives her what he hopes is an apologetic smile but he doesn't know how you apologize for something like that. He just has to try his best. )
They're all officers, right? I assume they probably are. They have a good chance. I'd have to work my way up from enlisted so my chances are way worse.
no subject
She nods. ]
The youngest, Colin, he enlisted without telling any of us. He's hardly older than I am. And I worry — for him, for them.
[ She pauses, bites her lip. Self-consciousness passes conspicuously over her, but she rallies. ]
I'm sorry. You'll have to forgive me. All this talk of war. I am being a complete spoilsport.
no subject
( Bucky smiles conspiratorily and points out Steve where he's still inside the party. )
That guy? He's my best friend. He wants to go to England and sign up even though America's not even in the war yet. He is real big on doing the right thing even if it's gonna get him killed. We need more people like him and less like me, I think. I'm more cautious.
no subject
She cranes her head and follows his finger to the source. A small man in a slightly too-big suit, seated on a table, talking animatedly with someone she remembers to be a contemporary artist.
In her eyes, a similar conspiratorial gleam. ]
Are you cautious about everything? Even stealing into parties you weren't invited to?
no subject
( Bucky grins at her and then gives her a wink. Surely one girl knowing he snuck in isn't going to get him tossed out, is it? If it does, it does. Steve's being a hell of a lot more overt about making a splash than he is. )
You got me. What gave it away?
no subject
You may fool them, [ she jerks her chin at the occupants inside the house. ] But I am not so easily taken in. I am far more discerning. [ Mock ego, but it's not all ego. Surely someone else had noticed, but nobody else had said anything. She's suddenly grateful for that. ]
Where are you from, then? Tell me.
no subject
( Bucky gives her a curious look. )
Do you like it here? Not just New York - Manhattan specifically?
no subject
I would like it a great deal more under different circumstances. [ A non-answer if ever there was one. She follows it up before he can make the observation: ]
It's different than London. Much more... liberal, I suppose. Very lively. Young might be the word I'm looking for.
[ Pause. ]
I've never been to Boston.