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Daphne Bridgerton is a flickering flame on a cold night. She can't help but draw those around her in until they’re moths dancing in her light. Emanating warmth and passion in every decisive nod and snide remark and perfected dance step. She is the diamond of the season, the supposed perfect woman, but Simon knows better. No one who burns that brightly could ever be as docile as London society demands of its young ladies.
She punches Nigel Berbrooke and shakes off her bruised knuckles with mere annoyance. Meets him toe to toe, matches his wit with her own sharp retorts. Is unafraid to make fun of the ridiculous nature of the marriage market and yet stands firm in her right to participate in it. Runs into the middle of a duel just to save him, shouting at her own brothers in the process. Daphne is a wildfire in the making a god forbid anyone try to snuff her out. Simon wouldn't dream of it.
Her warmth is magnetizing. Before he'd even realized it he'd found himself drawn into her light, hypnotized by the comfort he continued to find in her presence. Simon had spent so much of his life feeling ostracized. Othered. Daphne never looked at him any differently, never treated him as any less.
In fact, Simon believed she'd let him see more sides of her than anyone else. The feisty side of herself, the inferno of her spirit. Everyone else was merely glimpsing the coals of her heart but she'd handed Simon the entire blaze and trusted him not to flinch away from it.
Soon he's blazing alongside her. Cradling a warmth within himself that he's never felt before. A tender love and gentleness he never believed himself capable of or deserving of. They dance around each other like twin flames.
It is brilliant. It is terrifying. He knows, without anyone telling him, that Daphne's warmth could quickly turn into a scald if she allowed it. If he invited it to. Every lie he tells her, every stretch of the truth, every omission is playing with fire. He thinks to pull back rather than feed the blaze more fuel. He wants to tell her, but every time he tries to tell her the truth his throat closes up. His father's presence looms, casting a dark shadow over them both. So cold and oppressive he can't even see the light of her anymore.
So she'll continue to flicker and he'll continue to lie, until they both burn themselves alive or stomp each other out. There is no other option. He'd taken a vow.