Page 155 of The Good Duke
“In between my idea to bring you here and managing to track you down, Seph, I had a servant run ahead and coordinate an arrangement so you could have time here, alone, with no one about to bother you.”
Stunned silent, Persephone’s entire body jolted under the shock of Simon’s revelation.
He’d done all of this forher?
Tears burned her throat and stung her eyes.
“Mm. Mm,” he said, giving his head a ducal shake. “Crying will merely ruin your ability to study the pieces.”
Persephone caught a sob with her fist before it could slip out. “Simon…” Words wouldn’t come.
“I know, Seph,” he said gently. “I know. Now, go.” He waved his hand. “Enjoy every moment. I’ll find a bench and stay out of your way so you can be alone.”
And with Simon settling himself into a corner of the hall, Persephone, here amidst the Royal Academy of Art in Piccadilly Square, discovered Simon had lied to her after all. He’d promised his change in the day’s plans wouldn’t bring Persephone any trouble—only to discover he’d done her the greatest harm.
For when she eventually left and Simon married Issy, Persephone’s heart, this time, would be utterly and irrevocably broken in ways not even Silas had or could have ever managed.
Chapter 29
With their visit to the Royal Academy at an end, Simon and Persephone sat on opposite velvet benches of his black barouche.
As the open, capacious carriage lightly rocked and swayed, a comfortable, companionable silence filled the quiet.
Simon pretended interest at the passing streets. All the while, however, his shuttered gaze remained locked on Persephone.
Her beautiful features were arranged as soft as they’d been since she’d discovered where Simon had brought her. Her eyes continued glimmering with happiness and light Simon recognized all too well—and missed so very much.
From his earliest recollection of a chubby-cheeked, wide-smiling Persephone declaring they’d be best friends forever, to the young girl who’d granted Simon his first kiss, to the woman who’d snuck her way inside his residence, she was the siren who’d ensnared him.
Suddenly, even the filter of a window was too much of a barrier between them.
Unable to resist her pull, Simon turned and looked upon Persephone.
Throughout the course of his life, he’d had any number of lovers. He’d always possessed a lusty nature. Even when he’d been a stumbling, shy, stammering gentleman, whom society likely thought was proper in every way, Simon certainly hadn’t been between the bed sheets.
Of course, with all the women he’d bedded, there’d never been love involved. Not because he was one of those jaded rakes who swore the emotion wasn’t real—he believed it was, and at various points had wished to experience it for himself.
No, that wasn’t entirely correct.
He had loved and deeply—and still did.
What he’d yearned was to be loved in return, and not just by any woman, but by the very woman he found himself closed away with.
He’d given up on the dream of Persephone, and maybe that was why he’d set her from his mind; because to think of her and what he’d yearned to have with her left him with an aching, gaping hole in his heart.
And in that selfish need of self-preservation, he’d failed his friend in every way.
Subconsciously, he’d punished Persephone for her inability to love him, and it was a transgression that’d haunt him the rest of his days and follow him all the way to his grave. There was no atoning for his wrongs, but Simon could, however, dedicate himself to, this time, fighting for her love and ensuring her every happiness.
If, at the end of the war he intended to wage, she still could not give Simon her heart, then he’d not cut Persephone from his life. In a world cruel to unmarried women, Simon would ensure she was never without his support—emotional, financial, and in every other way she required. He’d look after her. Slay her demons. Take on anyone who so much as made her frown.
And when she eventually did lose her heart to some other man, even as it would kill Simon to see another possess her in every way Simonwishedto, he’d somehow find a way to be happy for her.
Because she was more than a lover, she was—always had been and always would be—his friend.
“You’re a million miles away.”
That soft murmuring pulled him from his melancholic musings.
