Page 157 of The Good Duke
Knock-knock-knock.
“Arrived we have, Your Grace!”
That damned untimely and jovial greeting from Simon’s driver brought him and Persephone jolting apart. Tamping down a curse, Simon drew the curtain wider to assess their location.
Indeed, they’d arrived.
“We are here,” he said, unable to stymie his regret.
Persephone looked out his window.
The glass panel reflected her frown. “Where exactly ishere, Simon?”
Oh, hell. He proceeded carefully. “Uh…Madam Colette’s.”
Her lips dipped even further in the corners.
“She is London’s most premier modiste,” he said, anticipating her question.
Persephone gasped and whipped the curtains closed.
“We are at the back entrance, which affords discretion to her patrons who desire to remain unseen.”
Persephone folded her arms at her chest. “You mean lords and their mistresses?” she drawled.
It was his turn to scowl. He’d never debase her so. “You arenotmy mistress.”
“Clearly,” she said with more of that sardonicism.
Knock-knock-knock.
“Give me a damned moment,” Simon shouted, and that incessant rapping came to an abrupt stop. Guilt swarmed him. “If you please, Albert,” he tacked on.
The dutiful driver gave them the requested privacy.
Simon turned his focus back on Persephone. “I’ve not brought you to Madam Colette’s for reasons that are anything but proper.”
Reflexively, Simon’s gaze slid to her faded and out-of-fashion cloak.
When he met her eyes, he found Persephone watching him intently.
“Why are we here, then?” she asked quietly.
More of that damnable heat splotched his cheeks. His proud Persephone would only see their being here as charitable on his part.
“You’re embarrassed having me seen about as I am,” she ventured.
“God, no, Seph!” Simon exclaimed; truth sent that denial exploding from him. “How could you believe that?” He was unable to keep the hurt from his voice.
Persephone looked from Simon’s black wool tailcoat to his amethyst embroidered vest and twill trousers and then peered down at her own garments.
He raked an unsteady hand through his hair. Yes, he could certainly see how she’d arrived at that conclusion.
“What other reason would there be, Simon?” she asked quietly.
Simon searched his mind for the right answer, only there wasn’t one. There was only the truth.
“I know you don’t like modiste shops, Seph,” he exploded.
