Page 138 of The Good Duke
Henrietta stamped a foot. “We are attempting to perform, Silas, and have only until Mother and Father return to do so.”
“My apologies, beautiful ladies,” the earl murmured, not looking away from Persephone.
She, however, needed him to go. He made her head swim, and that was something she couldn’t afford to let happen. A governess did not become involved with her employer or the man’s son—no matter how debonair he might be.
Steadied by that reminder, Persephone sank into a curtsy. “Thank you for visiting, my lord,” she said, making his excuses for him. “Let us not keep you. I trust you have important business to attend.”
Henrietta snorted. “Important business.”
Lord Milford-Haven scowled at the young girl; his warning look went unheeded.
“Importantroguebusiness, maybe.” The spirited girl stuck her tongue out, and the earl stuck his tongue out in return.
Persephone’s eyes formed enormous circles. Never before had she witnessed a gentleman so playful with his sisters. It proved alarmingly endearing.
This time, Issy stamped her feet. “I don’t care what business Silas has!” she cried. “We do not ever see you—”
“You see me,” he protested.
“Fine,” she allowed. “We haven’t seen you in a while, so I want him to stay. Can he stay, Miss Forsyth,please?”
He locked gazes with Persephone. “What say you, Miss Forsyth?” he asked solemnly. “May I please stay?”
Persephone did not miss the earl’s real but veiled question. She nibbled at her lower lip.
“If his lordship would like that,” she reluctantly conceded. After all, who was Persephone to tell the man who would someday be lord of the manor he could or couldn’t stay? Especially when she found she wanted him to stay.
Lord Milford-Haven bowed his head. “I would like that very much, Miss Forsyth.”
And the way he said it, she could actually believe what he said.
Utterly preposterous.
As the earl settled into a seat to watch the trio of ladies perform, what Persephone didn’t know—yet—was that his earlier words hadn’t merely been a rogue’s flirting, but the invitation to her ruin.
Chapter 26
On the hottest summer nights, the kind that left a girl laying atop the coverlet and flipping a pillow in search of any hint of cool, when sleep proved elusive, Persephone would sneak out of her suite. She’d tiptoe past the room where, despite the sweltering temperature, her noisily snoring Father managed a fitful rest. She’d take the wood stairs, avoiding the place in the floorboards that creaked, and continue walking until she reached the front door. Only when her father was mid-snore did she open the panel, always in desperate need of a good oiling, and take off.
Then she’d run barefoot through the dew-slicked grass, welcoming the cool balm upon her toes, and keep going until she found the spot where her family’s tiny parcel of land ended and a nobleman’s far vaster one began.
Now, twenty years later, with her slippers in hand and meandering barefoot through lush, green grass—also damp from the nighttime dew—Persephone could almost believe she was back in another time, in another place. A time and place where the summer nights and days had been long, and life had been simpler, and Persephone’s greatest worry had been whether there’d been clouds in the night sky that would hide the stars she wished to gaze upon.
Lest Persephone became too lost in the happy dream of another time, from afar, the lone bark of some stray in the distance and the faintest whisper of carriage wheels rumbling over cobblestones shattered the illusion.
The occasional sounds of the city served as an unkind and unnecessary reminder that life had changed. Persephone had grown up, and nothing would ever be simple again. For she wasn’t in the peacefully still English countryside, but rather in the pristine gardens belonging to the Duke of Greystoke.
Persephone glanced at the graveled path she’d wandered from, that stone walkway that cut across the grounds, peppered with flowering trees, and which seemed to stretch forever.
Only when Simon’s palatial residence was a distant white dot on the horizon did Persephone let herself stop.
Dropping her slippers, she sailed onto the damp grass. She drew her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms about them. Closing her eyes, she drew a breath and inhaled deeply of the fragrant hyacinths and cherry blossoms.
When she opened her eyes once more, her gaze landed upon a small pond; on the smooth surface of those waters, the moon reflected perfectly back.
Persephone stretched a hand toward the stony path and gathered a handful of gravel. Peering down at the little mound within her palm, she used the tip of her index finger to sift through the pile and fished out the larger pieces.
Persephone closed her eyes and as she launched a tiny rock, she silently sent her wish to the skies as she’d once done.
