Page 150 of The Good Duke
Humming to himself, Simon crossed behind his desk, opened the top drawer, and tossed it inside.
“There,” he said, closing the door with aclick. “We can return to this later. Now, if you will.” For a third time, he stretched a hand toward her.
He was dug in, and whenever Simon dug in, he could outwait the Lord.
Persephone sighed. “Very well, Your—Simon,” she corrected at his pointed look. “We shall deviate from the day’s agenda.”
He grinned like the mouse who’d fallen into the cream. “Perfect.”
“Yes,perfect,” she muttered as he fell into step beside her.
Even while she lifted her chin in a display of annoyance, secretly, in a place she would never, ever admit to him existed, Persephone followed, excited by the unexpected change in plans for the day.
But by the big smile Simon wore, she needn’t have bothered because he already knew it.
Chapter 28
Some thirty minutes after Persephone and Simon took their leave of his palatial townhouse, Persephone remained as clueless as to their destination as she had since they’d set out.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
For the dozenth time, she glanced over at the affable, light-hearted version of Simon. Seated on the opposite bench, Simon tapped his leather boot on the carriage floor in time to some quick-tempo ditty he was humming.
As if he felt her dubious stare, Simon glanced over and flashed a wink.
He wore the same easy, mysterious smile; one of those grins that suggested its wearer had in his possession a delicious secret.
Very much like Simon of old, who’d been rotten at dissembling, he’d also been rubbish with keeping anything from her.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re up to something.”
His smile widened. “Yes.”
When it became apparent he had no intention of saying anything further, she pressed. “You still don’t intend to tell me?”
Leaning over, he flicked her nose. “No.”
Persephone frowned. “No?”
“No.” With another one of those sexy little winks, he stole a glance out his window.
Persephone wrinkled her brow. It appearedSimon of newwas a good deal more skilled at prevarication.
Then he began to…sing.
“Come all you bold heroes attend to mysong,
I’ll sing in the praise of good brandy andrum,
Here’s a clear crystal fountain over England shallroll,
Give to me the punch ladle, I’ll fathom thebowl.”
He’d gone from sly glances and winks to tapping and humming and now devolved into all-out singing. This was really enough.
Despite her best attempt at annoyance, Persephone failed and mightily. It was next to impossible to stay miffed at Simon when he sang in his out-of-tune way.
An answering grin formed on her lips. How many times had the two of them sung at the top of their lungs, with an exuberance that’d echoed over Simon’s vast land holdings? The only thing worse than Simon’s singing had been Persephone’s.
