Page 101 of The Good Duke
Confusion paraded through her always-revealing eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“You certainly did. I heard you. You said you were forced to entertain the other siblings of your charges.”
“Youheardthat, but I certainly did not say it.” She laughed. “Simon, I was not required to care of my charges’ siblings. When I did not have my obligations to see to, Ichoseto join them.”
That brought him up short.
Persephone nodded. “It is true.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Whynot?” she countered. “Children are honest and unjaded. They tell you precisely what they are thinking and laugh freely and have wild imaginations and fearless spirits, and I’d far rather spend time with a dozen children than one adult who’d become a shadow of what they’d once been. And having lost my father and having no one, I found myself welcoming those children as family, even if they were only a pretend family.” She added that last part as an afterthought.
With that, she meandered on.
Simon stared after her.
Periodically, she’d stop to examine certain roses and add one to the small gathering she made.
Loneliness was something he understood all too well. Over the years, he’d known no other way. Shamefully, he’d become so accustomed to being on his own that when Persephone had reentered Simon’s life, he’d not given thought to how lonelyshe’dbeen.
Whereas, aside from Persephone, he’d lived a solitary existence, the same could not be said for her, who’d made every servant, every villager of every age, her dearest friend.
And she’d been forced to leave all that behind to go off and work as some servant to lords and ladies who’d never properly appreciate her.
Something hurt inside. No,everythinghurt inside.
Just then, she dropped to a knee; a generous, unguarded smile graced Persephone’s plump lips.
Persephone plucked a snowy white flower from a basket.
“Oh, aren’t you magnificent,” she whispered. Then, as if only just recalling Simon had joined her on this particular trip, she glanced up.
And the room stopped. The conversation of lords and their ladies faded to a distant, muted hum.
Her eyes. He’d forgotten how they sparkled. The tiniest of golden specks danced in their depths. Her irises had long been a window into her soul; they’d offered—and continued to provide—a clear glimpse of her emotions.
In rare instances, she’d been sad—which as children had been rare, and only when Simon had to return to Eton and then Oxford, and Persephone and Simon had been forced apart.
When she was happy—which had been nearly every other time except when they were separated—her eyes captured him.
He’d forgotten how it had made him feel. He’d forgotten howshehad made him feel.
Completely ensnared, Simon dropped to a knee and joined her.
Wordlessly, Persephone brought the lush bloom close so he might smell it too. Only the sweet, fragrant scent blended with that of sweet apple blossoms that clung to Persephone. It—no, she—intoxicated, drawing him deeper and deeper under whatever hypnotic spell she continued to weave.
“A white anemone,” she whispered.
Befuddled, Simon looked at her.
Gently, Persephone pressed the bloom that had brought them to the floor of the hothouse into his hand. “According to Greek legend, the anemone grew from the spot where Adonis died and Aphrodite’s mournful tears fell,” she murmured. “From them sprouted the red rose, which became a symbol of love until death.”
She’d brought them full circle, that lesson on flowers and their role in the courtship process. Just as before, he didn’t give a damned fig about the teaching, but this time for altogether different reasons.
Persephone.
Forgetting where they were, forgetting that a sea of people surrounded them, he leaned closer—so close he heard her audible intake and saw the wild up and down movement of her graceful neck as she swallowed.
