Page 122 of The Good Duke
“You are being ridiculous.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
“Because I would ensure you do not come to any harm?” he drawled. “Yes, how foolish of me to worry after you.”
Persephone stopped so quickly that Simon sailed right past her.
He doubled back.
“I do not need looking after, Simon,” she said, faintly entreating. “I’ve been on my own longer than my father was alive to care for me. And I’ll be on my own long after that. Now, if you’ll please”—she implored with her eyes—“allow me to fetch my belongings and go about your meeting with Lady Isabelle.”
This time, he let her go.
But he waited and followed Persephone with his gaze until she became a speck on the horizon and then disappeared altogether. The whisper of her words, however, remained.
“…I do not need looking after, Simon…I’ve been on my own longer than my father was alive to care for me. And I’ll be on my own long after that….”
Of their own volition, Simon’s eyes slid shut.
How many times before this one had Persephone needed to catch herself when she fell because there’d been no one else there for her? In all the years they’d been apart, what real perils had she faced?
His stomach muscles contracted.
Only, you know, that castigatory voice rightfully chided.You know.
She’d spoken plainly about the threats posed by scurrilous masters. And what a bastard Simon had been that he’d notpressedher for the names of the handsy employers so he could rip their heads from their torsos and destroy those cads for ever having dared dishonor her.
No. That isn’t what made Simon a bastard of the first order. Rather, it was the fact that, over the years, he’d not once thought to find out how Persephone fared. He’d known her father had been the only man there to look over her and that when Mr. Forsyth passed, she’d be alone.
Simon should have been the one to step in after her father’s death and seen her properly settled.
He opened his eyes. The clouds, previously concealing the sun, chose that moment to part. Those same streams of light that, a short while ago, had illuminated Persephone now left a light upon the earth and Simon himself.
How could he have been so blind?
He’d let her down before. Simon set his jaw. He’d not, however, fail herthis time.
Even when they were done here, he’d see she was established, not at the whim and mercy of some mercurial employer, but rather in full control of her future.
His heart thumped.
Of course, why hadn’t he thought of it before now?
He’d agreed to references she sought at the end of their time together and intended to pay her a small fortune. All the while knowing she’d never have accepted a pence more as she was too proud to accept charity.
What he could do, however, was help Persephone establish a matchmaking or governess business—or whatever business she wanted. As long as when their time was finished here, she’d be in a place to rely only on herself and hire like-minded, strong, spirited women.
The more he thought about the possibility, the more energized he became.
Not only would she—and Simon himself—no longer have to worry about Persephone’s future, it would also mean she would remain in London where…
Don’t you recall, old chap? You aren’t staying in London. After you tie up your estate business and get yourself married, you’re off to renew your travels and see the world.
His early gladness faded.
For he wouldn’t be here.
And where before Persephone’s arrival, there’d only been an eagerness and urgency to leave England, now he felt strangely…hollow in thinking about the day he left…her.
The day he left her?
