Page 120 of The Good Duke
As if he didn’t have a goddamn clue about what exactly a blastedbonnetwas, Persephone pointed at her head for good measure.
Your Grace.“This again,” he said between gritted teeth. In the moment, it was harder to say whether he was more perturbed with her further elucidating about the article in question or her gratingYour Grace-ing him.
Persephone angled her head at what would have been an endearing befuddlement if he weren’t so bloody irate. “I’ve not lost my bonnet before now, Your Grace.”
That slight tilt of her neck sent several lustrous curls slipping free of her pins and cascading over her shoulder. Simon drank in the delectable portrait she made and conjured images of those beautiful strands draped across his bedroom pillow.
As if she’d noted his unseemly attention, Persephone tucked those recalcitrant curls back behind her ear.
“For that matter, my bonnet isnotlost, Your Grace. I know precisely its location.” She nodded once.
Simon could only stare at her.
What the hell was she talking about? Why was she nodding?
Then it hit him! Persephone was still going on about that damned—
“Aren’t you going to ask me where—”
“Where is your bloody bonnet?” he exclaimed.
A pair of young ladies chose that inopportune moment to pass beside them.
Persephone smiled and dipped a curtsy as they went.
At least she’ll smile for someone.
That knowledge didn’t improve Simon’s mood one bit.
When the women had gone, sure as rain, Persephone scowled at Simon the same way she might an errant charge. “You are going to cause a scene.”
“I don’t care,” he mumbled, feeling very much like one of her far-younger-than-him students.
“That much is clear.” She clapped her hands once. “Now, do not pout, Your Grace.” Apparently, Persephone intended to continue her scolding. “Ladies do not enjoy a grown gentleman with a pout on his lips.”
“Women of all stations and ages enjoy a brooding fellow,” he said, digging in.
Persephone bowed her head. “I’ll allow that.”
“How gracious of you,” he said wryly.
“Brooding, however, is what irresistiblegrownmen do.Pouting, on the other hand, is what little boys do.”
Which meant Persephone didn’t find him in the former category. His ire spiraled.
Persephone dipped a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
With that, she headed down the exact path they’d just traveled to get to this very point in the park.
He let her get as far as five steps before he found his voice. “Where the hell are you going, Miss Forsyth?” he snapped.
She whipped back around to again meet his gaze. “And we most certainly do not curse in public, Your Grace,” Persephone schooled, all the while doing a search of their surroundings. “We are fortunate no one heard you, butdobe more careful in the future. In addition to pouting, ladies also do not entertain uncouth gentlemen.”
A disapproving frown marred her delicate features.
“Uncouth gentlemen?” Simon drawled. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”
“I would say it isredundant, more than anything else.”
