The Fuchsia Beauty

Title: The Fuchsia Beauty
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandom(s): Bridgerton / Harry Potter Series
Pairings: Simon Basset (The Duke of Hastings)/Fem!Harry Potter, (one sided) Hastings/Daphne
Word Count: 4k
Rating: PG
Prompt: January 2025 Prompts
Warnings: Bridgerton Manners, fem!Harry, Harry is a Sharma (sort of), No Lily Potter, No Magic, They’re all Muggles, It’s all Regency
Prompt: for Kaiser: Simon Basset/Harry Potter: Simon has been infatuated with his dream girl/boy and no one comes close.  Until he meets the youngest (sorry, it’s kind of oldest) Sharma sibling.  He suddenly needs to break his deal and honestly pursue Harry but Daphne isn’t willing to let go.
Note: “Hedone” is the Greek Goddess of pleasure.  Think “Hedonistic.”  Pronounced “hee-doe-nee.”

The Fuchsia Beauty

Daphne was looking at him as he was eating his ice cream, rather closely, Hastings realized.  She was paying especial attention to his spoon.  Narrowing his eyes, he removed the spoon from between his lips and placed it back in the glass.  She was still staring at his lips.

This would not do.

“How does the campaign go?” he inquired, hoping to change her line of thinking.  “Are there any worthy prospects?”

“Oh,” she gasped.  “Oh, there are some.”

She blushed prettily and lowered her eyes demurely, and Hastings got the feeling he was supposed to notice. 

This would not do at all.

Looking over Daphne’s shoulder, he scanned the room. 

There were the usual society misses, but none caught his attention.  None ever caught his attention.  There was never a society miss who could—

He paused.  There was a young lady in the corner wearing a fuchsia gown and pale pink blusher, her black hair done in a chignon atop her head, her eyes lowered as she read a book that was clasped in her gloved fingers.  Freckles glistened across her cheeks and she made the most charming picture as she smiled secretively to herself.  Her ice cream was set aside, untouched, melting in its glass.

Who was she?

As if sensing that she was being observed, the reading girl glanced up and looked to the right, then straight ahead, before the most startling green eyes alighted on Hastings.

His breath caught in his chest.

Hastings had never seen eyes quite that green before.

“Do you not think?” Daphne asked him, and he was forced to look away.

“I beg pardon?” he inquired.

“Do you not think that Lord Fitzherbert is not a good choice in suitor?” she repeated, her gaze coquettishly looking at him from the side of her eyes.

The reading girl had looked directly at Hastings, no apology, no demurral, no ploy.  It was as if she was daring him to continue to observe her.  He had liked her gaze.  It was honest.  There was no pretense.

Daphne’s gaze, on the other hand, was nothing but pretense.  He realized that she was trying to entice him and make him jealous by bringing up Lord Fitzherbert.

He tried to contain himself and breathed out through his nose.  “I think Lord Fitzherbert is an excellent prospect,” he informed her, picking up his spoon and taking another bite of ice cream.

(Daphne’s gaze followed his every movement and lingered on his lips again, much to his annoyance.)

“You should try for him.”

“Do you not think,” she prevaricated, searching for the correct words, “that he is not—single minded?”

Hastings quickly looked over Daphne’s shoulder and saw that the fuchsia beauty had returned to her reading.  He tried to see the title, but the spine was angled in the wrong direction. 

The lady was still engrossed.

“How is he single minded?” he asked.  He did not know Lord Fitzherbert well, but he did not find anything objectionable about the man.  Daphne was being too picky.  Perhaps she was looking for a reason to discredit his suit.

Daphne glanced down at her gloved hands and then quickly looked up at him, fluttering her eyelashes.

She was definitely using her womanly wiles on him and Hastings did not appreciate it.

He repressed a sigh.  “He is not single minded.  If he should ask you to promenade, you should accept.”

“Do you think that is something he is likely to ask me?”

“I shall not ask you,” Hastings determined, “so that leaves you available both tomorrow and the next day.”

A look of slight annoying passed across Daphne’s blue eyes.  “Do not forget to send flowers.  Expensive ones.”

“I sent you expensive flowers yesterday.”

“We must keep up appearances,” Daphne reminded him.

An attendant came up to the reading girl and removed the melting ice cream.  She turned a page in her book.  The angle was slightly better but he still could not read it. 

Daphne turned and looked behind her, but did not seem to settle on the object of his attention. 

Hastings quickly returned his attention to her.

She looked back at him and gave him a tight smile.  “Shall we go?”

He gave her a cool look.  “I shall return you to your maid.” 

Walking her out, he bid her good day and watched her walk off.  He waited until she turned the corner before reentering the shop, going up to the counter and handing over a twopence to the counter.  He passed the lady’s table and let his eyes flit down to try and catch her eye.  No such luck.

As he was turning from the counter, an older gentlemen came in and he saw him approach the fuchsia beauty’s table and take off his hat.  “Hedone,” he greeted, “are you finished with your ices?”

She looked up and closed her book with a smile.  “Yes, grandfather,” she answered, taking out her reticule and placing the book inside. 

Hastings paused to allow her to collect herself.  He tipped his hat to the gentleman and, when the fuchsia beauty made to stand, stepped forward to pull out her chair for her.  “Madam,” he greeted, “allow me to aid you.”

She turned to him with her wide green eyes, honest but inquisitive. 

“Thank you,” her grandfather replied for her.  “Lord Sheffield,” he introduced.  “This is my granddaughter, the Honorable Hedone Potter.”

“Miss Potter,” he greeted, picking up her hand and kissing it lightly before offering his hand to Lord Sheffield.  “The Duke of Hastings.”

“Duke,” Lord Sheffield said with a smile on his affable face.  “A pleasure to meet you.”  He turned to his granddaughter.

She immediately understood his queue and curtsied to Hastings.  “Thank you, Duke.”

“Not at all, Miss Potter,” he answered.  “I noticed your ice completely melted you were so enamored of your book.”

“That is our Hedone,” Lord Sheffield offered.  “Once she loses herself in a book, she cannot put it down.”

Hedone blushed lightly across her freckles.

Hastings found it absolutely charming. 

He walked Hedone out, but not before determining that she would be at the Kendrick’s Ball the next evening.

“Yes,” Lord Sheffield was now saying once they stepped out of the glacier.  “This is Hedone’s second season and it has fallen to Lady Sheffield to sponsor her.  Her mother is foolishly in India with her second husband—and offspring.”  His voice turned sour.  He looked down at Hedone and smiled.  “She made much wiser choices when it pertained to her first husband, Lord Potter, and left us with this charming young lady.”

Hedone was looking to the side, clearly wishing for a different topic of conversation.

“Well,” Hastings said, “I am certain Miss Potter is glad for her grandmother’s assistance.”

“Certainly,” Lord Sheffield agreed, not giving Hedone a chance to respond.  “Good day, sir.  Good day.”

Now, Hastings not only had to shake Daphne at the Kendrick’s ball, he had to get Hedone away from her overbearing grandfather.  He also had to hope that Hedone did not read Lady Whistledown.

The next day, Simon was sure to send Daphne a large bouquet of expensive flowers.

He also went to the florist and chose a modest bouquet of lilacs and iris, thinking that roses were too obvious for Hedone Potter.

Hedone.  He-DOE-nie.  The Goddess of hedonistic pleasure.  What a strange name for a young lady.  What kind of mother would choose to name her daughter after such a goddess and then run off to India with a second husband?

It was the type of scandal Lady Whistledown would surely love, but if the mother did not come back, then it would surely remain a mystery.  Out of sight, out of mind, as the adage went.

He appeared at the Sheffield Townhouse at quarter past eleven and was admitted to a well appointed living room.

Lady Sheffield, a woman with dusted skin and black hair, was sitting on a settee and reading none other than Lady Whistledown.

Hedone was removed to a window seat and reading what appeared to be the same book as she had the day before.

“Ah,” Lady Sheffield greeted as Hastings entered the room.  “Hedone.  Look who has come.”

The girl looked up, slightly confused, and set aside her book.  That day she was wearing a dark blue, which made her bottle green eyes stand out even more against her pale skin.  Standing, she came over and gazed at Hastings in question.  Then, belatedly, she sank into a curtsey.

“It’s so good to see you again, Duke,” she greeted.

“I can leave if I disturb you,” he offered as she led him to the couch opposite her grandmother.

“I can always read later,” she told him honestly as she accepted the flowers and buried her nose in them.  The tendrils of hair that fell to frame her face got lost in the flowers and she seemed the perfect picture of innocence. 

Hastings smiled to himself.

Accepting a dish of tea from Lady Sheffield, he allowed himself to settle.

Hedone likewise took tea and regarded him.  “I’m surprised to see you here,” she finally admitted when silence had fallen over them for several long moments.

“Do you think me overly gallant in helping ladies from their chairs?” he inquired.

“You were eating ices with Miss Bridgerton,” she noticed.  “I know Lady Whistledown is full of it although I do not read the gossip pages myself.”

“Hedone!” her grandmother chided, although a copy of Lady Whistledown was on the side table next to her.

“No,” Hastings told Lady Sheffield, “Miss Potter is correct. I can only say that Lady Whistledown is not as perceptive as she may appear.”

“But you were eating ices with her yesterday,” Hedone pushed.  “Are you going to Bridgerton House after this or have you already been?”  She put down her cup and looked up at him inquisitively.

Hastings felt himself pierced through.

“Miss Potter—” he began.

“Yes,” she answered, placing her hands in her lap.

“Daphne—”

“So it is ‘Daphne,’ then?”  She blinked as if the idea just occurred to her that Lady Whistledown might have been telling the truth, although she had seen them with her own eyes just the day before.  She then stood up and began to walk back toward the window.

Hastings stood quickly.  “Miss Potter—”

“Yes?”  She turned back toward him.  “I may not be the daughter of a Viscount—”

“Hedone!” her grandmother admonished.

“No,” Hedone argued, putting up her hand.  “His grace is clearly playing at something.  I don not wish to be a part of it.”

“I do not wish to play with you,” Hastings told her carefully.

“Then thank you for the flowers.”  She sat down elegantly at the window seat and picked up her book. 

Hastings looked over at Lady Sheffield, for once feeling at a loss.  He did not like the feeling in the least.

Lady Sheffield shrugged her shoulders.  “Hedone has such decided opinions,” she explained.  “We do so admire her for it.”

Hedone was not listening.  She was absorbed in her book and even turned a page not two minutes later after Hastings simply sat in his seat and finished his tea.

He had not felt so unseen since his father had berated him when he was a child.

He was determined that Hedone would see him.  He wanted her.  She had gotten the wrong impression about Daphne.  No, that was not true.  She had gotten the exact impression she was supposed to get, and that was the problem.

When he left Sheffield House, he immediately went to the florist and ordered the most elaborate flowers he could, to be delivered to Hedone the next morning.  He canceled the flower orders he had in place for Daphne.

Next, he went to see Lady Danbury.

She was in the garden, cane in hand, and was genuinely surprised to see him.  “How goes the hunt?”

“That is what I wanted to speak to you about?”

“Ready to propose then?”

“Not to Daphne Bridgerton.”  He looked over to the side.

Clearly surprised, Lady Danbury looked up and regarded him.  “What do you mean by that?”

“I have been struck,” he admitted carefully, “by Miss Hedone Potter.”

“By—”  She paused and then her expression settled.  “I cannot say I am surprised, her mother, Lady Mary Sharma, is a beautiful woman.  She was a great friend of mine.  Lady Mary Sheffield as was.  I have been writing to her and trying to convince her to return from India with her other two daughters to come for a London Season.”

“You mean she has other daughters?  Why is Hedone here and her other daughters with her in India?” Hastings asked, clearly baffled.

“Because Hedone,” Lady Danbury answered, signaling him to follow her back inside, “is the product of her first, sanctioned marriage, to James, Lord Potter.  They had one child, Hedone.  Then Mary ran off with Dev Sharma and was forced to leave Hedone behind.  She has been in exile in India ever since.  She still writes me, asking about Hedone.  I tell her what I can, but all I know is that she is in her second season and she has turned down at least four marriage proposals.”

“Four?” Hastings asked, agog.

“Four,” Lady Danbury repeated.

They came to the door to the house, and Hastings opened it for Lady Danbury who walked through it.

“She received four marriage proposals last season?” he repeated when they reached the drawing room.

Lady Danbury smirked.  “I see you do not read Lady Whistledown.  She received—and refused—three last season, and refused one flat out not a fortnight ago.  Lord Montague Wimsey, the third son of the Duke of Denver.  A good match.  He has a stipend from his father and a small house in London.  More than respectable especially given that she is the Sheffield Heiress and will inherit the estate in Sussex from her grandfather, but she did not want Lord Montague.”

Hastings considered.  Now she seemed to have written him off because of his blatant interest in Daphne.  “She dismissed me this morning.”

Regarding him, Lady Danbury lifted an eyebrow.  “Did she give a reason?”

Begrudgingly, Hastings admitted, “She saw me eating ices with Miss Bridgerton yesterday at the glacier.”

Lady Danbury laughed.  “Well, I had thought your affections had transferred rather quickly.  It was foolish to let Miss Potter notice as well.  Has Miss Bridgerton noticed?”

That was the conundrum.  He still had an obligation to Daphne.  She needed to find a suitor and quickly, so he could move on to Hedone Potter.

“I see how it is.”

“You do not see how it is,” Hastings countered, anger lining his voice.

“Well, Whistledown believes you are the most ardent suitor to Miss Daphne Bridgerton.  All of London believes it, and I daresay Hedone Potter believes it as well.  If you do not want the Viscount Bridgerton calling you out—”

“Bridgerton wants me nowhere near his sister.”

“Well, then,” Lady Danbury began to surmise.  “Have your affections really switched from one lady to another?”

“That is how it will appear—”

“Well, then, I would have said you are a fool if it were any lady but Hedone Potter,” Lady Danbury told him, “but as it is she—” she turned thoughtful.  “This shall prove most diverting.”

Diverting was the least of it.

Hastings knew that Hedone had received the flowers as soon as he entered the Sheffield townhouse as they were on display in the entryway.  He handed over his hat and cane to the footman and was shown up to the ladies, where he found Hedone at the pianoforte with Lady Sheffield listening politely. 

Hedone looked up when he entered, her eyes barely lighting on him, before she returned to her music.  Her green eyes were bright and mischievous, but it appeared that her emotions were all for her music, which was whimsical that morning.

When she completed the piece, she immediately segued into another and then into a third.  By the fifth piece, Hastings began to get the distinct feeling that Hedone was avoiding him.  When tea was served at quarter to twelve and Lady Sheffield did not even make up a dish for Hedone, he knew that Hedone did not mean to stop and even Lady Sheffield knew it.

“She is most accomplished,” Hastings complimented her grandmother.

Leaning toward her, she admitted, “Once she gets like this, she will play for hours.  It is all we can do to get her to stop for luncheon.  Lord Sheffield, once or twice, has had to close the cover on her fingers.”

At the sound of their murmurings, Hedone looked over at them reproachfully, and Lady Sheffield immediately leaned away from her and took up a position of polite attention.

Hastings stayed until half one, luncheon in the household still not being served, and told Lady Sheffield he hoped to see her at the ball that evening.

Of course, Daphne was there, her blue eyes alight and utterly the wrong color. 

“There you are,” she declared.  “You must have my first dance.”

“I should think Lord Fitzherbert would want your first dance,” Hastings told her plainly.  “Surely he is around here somewhere.”

She looked up at him reproachfully, and Hastings did notice she looked lovely in white, but Daphne always looked lovely in pale blue and white.  She wore those two colors almost exclusively.  Hedone Potter wore jewel colors.  When he had first seen her in the glacier, she had been wearing fuchsia.  The day before she had been dressed in dark blue and just that morning she had been donned in a deep green that had matched her eyes.  He wondered what she would be dressed in that evening.  He had yet to see her at a ball.  Hastings hoped he would be able to claim her first dance. 

“I have not seen him,” Daphne told him coyly, tapping his shoulder with her fan.  He was immediately annoyed.

“I shall go and find him for you,” he decided and then left her without another word.

He saw the reproachful look Daphne gave him, but he did not care.  Hastings had been making other gentlemen jealous for several weeks and she had a bevy of suitors.  It was time for her to start paying attention to them and leaving him to his own devices.  She had done what she was supposed to do for him.  She had kept the matchmaking mamas away.  Now, however, he wanted Lady Sheffield to start matchmaking him and Hedone, but Hedone was rejecting him outright because she had fallen into the trap of thinking he was already taken.

The situation was most vexing.

Circling the ballroom once, he saw Fitzherbert and pointed out to him where he could find Daphne, before returning to his search for Hedone.

It appeared she had yet to arrive.

Taking up a position at a pillar, Hastings watched the dancing begin and noted with satisfaction that Fitzherbert had enticed Daphne to the dancefloor.

Halfway through the dance, Bridgerton found him brooding.

“You are not dancing with Daphne,” he noted, taking him in.  “Have I scared you off, then?”

“I have taken everything you have told me under advisement,” he answered.  “I have also met my future wife.”

Bridgerton looked him over.  “Not Daphne?”

“Not Daphne,” he confirmed.  “I am at this very moment waiting for her to arrive.”

Bridgerton slapped him on the shoulder.  “I am so pleased for you.  Who has conquered you?”

“The Honourable Hedone Potter.”

“Potter,” Bridgerton mused, thinking.  “Wait!  Is she the one who turned down Smelting last year?”

“Quite possible,” Hastings agreed.  “She turned down Whimsey just a fortnight ago.  According to Lady Danbury, she has turned down no fewer than four marriage proposals and it is only the beginning of her second season.”

“Four?” Bridgerton checked.  “Who is she looking to marry?  The Prince Regent?”

“Hopefully not.” A shade of indigo caught his eye and Hastings looked up at the landing where he saw Lord Sheffield appear with an incandescent Hedone Potter on his arm.  “I cannot speak on it now.  Miss Potter has arrived.”  He clasped Bridgerton on the shoulder and then made his way through the revelers toward the bottom of the stairs.

Hedone was walking down, lifting up her skirts so as not to trip.  Her deep purple slippers peeked out, and Hastings waited with baited breath.

When she reached the last step, Hastings held out his hand and Hedone, hesitating for only a second, put her hand in it and allowed him to thread her hand through his arm.  “Lord Sheffield, Miss Potter, I hope you are well this evening.”

“Suitably well, thank you,” Lord Sheffield answered for the both of them.  “I see that you have been waiting for Hedone.”

“With your permission, I would like to ask for her first set and the supper set.”

“Well,” Lord Sheffield replied, looking at his granddaughter, “I know neither are spoken for.  If Hedone has no objection, I gladly surrender her to you.—Enjoy yourself, my dear.”

Hedone did not answer, but Hastings nodded his head and led her away, awaiting the end of the dance and the opening set of the next dance.

“If I may say so, Miss Potter, you look beautiful tonight—”

He looked over at her but she was gazing out at the dancers.

“You are not dancing with Miss Bridgerton,” she noted, “even though it is the first set.”

“No,” he agreed, “I was waiting for you.”

She nodded absently to herself.  “My grandfather would like me to be a duchess.  My mother was such a disappointment.”

“I am certain Lady Potter—”

“She gave up her title as Baroness Potter to marry Mr. Sharma,” she admitted.  “She is simply Lady Mary Sharma,” Hedone corrected looking over at him with her brilliant green eyes.  “You see why she is such a disappointment.  I have never met my sister Edwina, or my stepsister Kate.”

“I understand they are in India.”

“Yes.  I do not think they will ever return to England.”

Uncertain if he should respond with what Lady Danbury had told him, Hastings was saved from responding when the music ended and the dancing couples began to clap.  He waited patiently for the line to reform and led Hedone into the set, pleased to stand up with her.

Hastings was aware of the attention they gained.  Not only had he not stood up with Daphne, but she had danced with Lord Fitzherbert and he was now dancing with Hedone Potter.

The music began and he stepped forward and exchanged places with Hedone, allowing his hand to encircle her waist briefly before reforming the line. 

Hedone was silent in the dance, choosing not to speak, and Hastings respected her wishes.  Many couples were speaking around them, but Hastings was simply pleased to be seen with Hedone, and when the second dance was concluded, he left her in a chair and went to get a lemonade.

It was then that Queen Charlotte appeared with a young man in military regalia.

Hastings watched with Hedone at his side as Daphne Bridgerton was introduced to Prince Friedrich and he asked her to dance.

“What do you think that is about?” she breathed as she accepted Hasting’s hand for the supper set.

“I think Daphne Bridgerton has found a royal suitor and my work is done,” he answered.

Hedone looked at him inquisitively, but he merely smiled.

The downbeat started and he began to dance.  He had every intention of only ever dancing with Hedone Potter ever again.

The End.