Page 145 of The Good Duke
That reminder hit Simon with a kick to the core, and the latest bite he’d taken grew suddenly impossible to swallow. Struggling to choke it down, he grabbed his glass of water and took a long sip. Only, even after he’d managed to clear the food from his gullet, that tight sensation in his throat remained.
And he well knew the reason why. When Seph had arrived, cloaked in secrets, he’d had an obligation as a friend to find out all the details of her life since they’d been apart…so that he could help her, so that he could understand. If he’d but opened his eyes, he’d have noticed the protective walls she’d built.
In the great chasm that’d grown over the years, Simon forgot how to speak with Persephone. If he’d remembered how,no, if he hadn’t been such a bloody self-absorbed arse, he’d have known a woman whom he’d always loved was suffering an old heartbreak, wrongful firings, and deplorable treatment from her past employers.
His eyes slid shut as guilt, shame, and regret swirled inside him.
What an absolute dolt I’ve been.
But now he knew, and he could make it right—that is, as much as it was possible to do so.
Simon dropped the remainder of his uneaten toast, clambered to his feet, and went in search of Seph. He knew hersowell; he knewpreciselywhere she might be.
Only, more than an hour later, after visiting the gardens, the library, the greenhouse, and eventually her tidy bedchambers, Simon came up empty.
Standing on the threshold of Persephone’s rooms, Simon stared unblinkingly at the neatly made bed, the absence ofanythingindicating she’d been here. The guest suite may as well have been the same way it had been before Seph arrived, and that turned his world upside down.
Simon’s heart thudded dully against his ribcage, and a sick sensation roiled in his belly.
His eyes slid shut.I’m going to be ill.
“Your Grace?” That timid query brought his eyes flying open.
He spun and found Persephone’s maid staring worriedly back.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” the girl said quickly and dropped into a deep curtsy. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Miss Forsyth.” Seph’s name ripped from him in the form of a harsh, raspy command.
The maid backed away. “Your Grace?”
“Miss Forsyth?” he repeated, madness setting in.
“Arose early, she—”
“What time?” he demanded before she’d even finished her sentence.
Like she desperately wished she’d avoided this hall, Persephone’s maid darted her gaze about. “Five o’clock or so, Your Grace.”
Simon’s stomach plummeted.
“She broke her fast in the kitchens, Your Grace.”
“In the kitchens,” he repeated woodenly.
The young woman nodded.
That’s where she’d gone. Instead of in the breakfast room, she’d been in the kitchens with his staff. Something in knowing she’d taken her meal as any common servant gutted him.
Simon rubbed his chest, but it did nothing to alleviate the dull ache.
What kind of lead did she have? Either way, wherever she’d gone, he’d find her. He’d find Persephone and bring her back, so they could begin again…so he could do it right this time.
“How did she leave?” he asked, his voice hollow to his ears.
Several little lines furrowed the maid’s wide brow. “Your Grace?” she ventured hesitantly.
“When did she depart? How did she depart?”
