Page 113 of The Good Duke
Persephone knew of what he spoke. He saw it in the desperate little way she bit at her lower lip. And he knew with a savage instinct that she was absolutely dripping between her legs for him.
Give me a look. Give me just one utterance, and I will pull you astride my body and give you what you are silently crying out for.
Persephone looked away first.
She dropped her gaze to her notebook and fiddled with her pencil. “And what of the marquess?” she asked thickly. “What do you know ofhim?”
A clearer message couldn’t have been sent by the lady had she fired a gun to announce it—the playful banter, the easy exchanges, the passionate embraces…were at an end.
It was all business between him and Persephone.
And you’d do well to remember that.No more of those fanciful musings about what could have been or would have been.
This is all there was.
“Lord Bute is slightly older than me. We were not overly friendly, but he was always a good chap. At school, he’d put a stop to his brother’s antics whenever he happened upon Lord Lysander making my life hell.”
Simon had been too ashamed and embarrassed at needing the older boy to intervene on his behalf.
“What anhonorableman Lord Bute is.”
It was a moment before he registered Persephone’s acerbic response.
Quizzically, he looked over at her. “Seph?”
The carriage slowed and then rocked to a gradual stop. Simon drew the curtain back and peered outside.
They’d arrived.
As his driver clamored from the bench, Simon returned his attention to Persephone.
“I extended a dinner invitation to Lord Bute and Lady Isabelle,” he added before he forgot.
Persephone scrambled to the edge of her bench; her notebook and pencil fell with athumpupon the carriage floor. “What?”
“Not this evening, and not just the gentleman and his sister,” he said as a footman drew the lacquer door open. Simon handed Astrid off to the young servant. “Rather a dozen or so guests. In a week’s time. Lady Isabelle’s brother suggested a walk in Hyde Park in the interim. He encouraged me to bring along my social secretary as a chaperone to his sister.”
All the blood seeped from Persephone’s cheeks. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came out.
Simon jumped down and reached a hand back to help Persephone. She glared at his fingertips, and, with a look he’d become increasingly familiar with, snatched his hand.
The moment he set her on her feet, Persephone stalked off.
Frowning, he stared after her rapidly retreating frame.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “I thought you’d be pleased with me,” he called after her.
“I’m not,” she shouted back, not even breaking stride.
The imperturbable Miss Persephone Forsyth reduced to yelling.
A grin played at his lips and Simon set off after her. Even with the impressive pace she’d struck, Simon easily caught her.
The moment they entered the foyer, his butler, along with three footmen, rushed forward: one each to collect Simon and Persephone’s cloaks and the other to rescue Astrid.
“What is it, Seph?” he asked, and the servants went scurrying off. For that matter, Persephone did too. She made a beeline right for the staircase. “Where are you off to?”
“Given you’ll have me coordinate a dinner party in a week’s time, I have work to do.”
