Page 167 of The Good Duke
Folding her arms, she looked up at him.
Simon pulled at his cravat. “Am I free to speak?” he ventured.
Persephone gave a curt nod.
“I hate you’ve had to see Bute and have your outing ruined because—”
“You think I’m upset withSilas?” she cut him off, incredulity creeping into her voice.
A vein bulged at his temple. The evidence of his annoyance gave her pause.
Was he truly angry withher?
Or perhaps Simon carries some feelings for you, and he dislikes the familiarity with which you speak Lord Bute’s given name?a silent voice tempted Persephone with that hopeful thought.Or maybe you’re just hoping where hope doesn’t and shouldn’t exist.
“You’re angry withme?” he demanded on a furious whisper, proving hers had merely been wishful thinking.
“Who should I be angry with?” she snapped.
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the bloody bastard who broke your heart and moments ago threatened to kill me.”
“What did you expect, Simon?” she shot back. “You were baiting him and what’s worse is you did so at my expense.”
That he’d done so with Silas was insupportable.
Her fury spiraled. “How did you believe the marquess—a devoted brother—would react when he discovered his sister’s almost bridegroom at the back entrance of the most selective modiste in London with a woman whom you employ?”
A sharp, caustic laugh escaped Simon. “I assure you,brotherly devotionisnotthe source of Bute’s ire.”
She frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
His gaze grew cryptic. “I am notsuggestinganything.”
The anger went out of Persephone, and her shoulders slumped.
“You let him believe I’m your mistress, Simon.” She didn’t bother to hide the hurt in her voice.
He drew back. “I didn’t…”
Tears threatened.
“Youdid,” she finished when he didn’t complete the rest. “You more than hinted at it. What would possess you to do that, Simon?”
“Seph,” he said, his voice laced with anguish. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t realize…”
Except…
She rocked back on her heels.
Oh, God.
Isn’t that precisely what you are?
They’d made love and pleasured one other in other wicked ways. She’d allowed him to squire her about Town. He’d taken her to a museum and then brought her to Madam Colette’s.
I am his mistress.
Persephone blanched.
