Page 172 of The Good Duke
Her heart kicked up its beat.
“Or perhaps it has nothing to do with me.” Simon slashed his hand about as he spoke. “Maybe your heart still belongs and onlyeverbelonged to Bute, and you want to be with him.”
As though mortally wounded at the prospect, Simon’s sharp, sun-browned features contorted into a paroxysm of grief that cut Persephone all the way through.
“Either way,” he said, his voice ragged, “I want you to have that, so whatever decision you arrive at is uncoerced…so that it is your decision alone.”
Puzzling her brow, Persephone at last peeked inside and sifted through the contents.
“They are references,” he explained.
“Yes, I see that.”
“And funds. Ten thousand pounds for you to do whatever you will or would with it. Just so that you have a choice. Even if Bute is the choice, I want you to have all of this, so you always have it for you.” A fresh wave of grief contorted his beautiful face.
Simon’s pain was her own. That’d always been the way though. They’d always hurt for one another and laughed because of each other.
With her spare hand, Persephone took one of Simon’s gloved palms in her own. She twined their fingers until they were joined like ivy.
“Simon,” she murmured. “Lord Bute was part of my past. I do not love him.”
He stilled.
Hope blazed to life in every cherished plane of his face.
“You don’t?” his voice emerged on a whisper.
Persephone shook her head.
She loved Simon. He was her friend and now the keeper of her heart. As such, she couldn’t lie to him. “Ididlove him,” she admitted. “When we met, I was so innocent and he was the epitome of a rogue: dashing, charming, exciting, forbidden.”
As she spoke, Simon shifted his gaze over the top of Persephone’s head.
“But Simon,” she said softly and waited until he met her gaze once more, “when I saw the marquess in the flower shop that day, I felt…nothing. At least, not for him. My heart didn’t jump. My soul didn’t sing. In that instant and in the days that followed, all I could think about was protecting you—from me, from my past.”
“Seph—” he said hoarsely.
“No, Simon.” Persephone gave her head a harder shake. “It is my turn. I’ve kept enough from you. We’ve both let so much go unsaid. I’ll finish this.” Each word fell from her lips faster and faster. “Even as it would have gutted me to leave you, I was determined to do so because I could never come between you and what you really wanted. I knew I’d never forgive myself.” Her shoulders sagged. “But I realized something, Simon,” she whispered. “I’m not as honorable or good as I’d b-believed.” Her voice caught. “And I’m certainly not as good as you deserve.”
An anguished groan escaped Simon.
“You are farbetterthan I deserve, Seph. That you can actually think you are somehow unworthy ofme?” A half-laugh, half-sob ripped from his lips. “The fact you can evenutterit, after how I’ve treated you and how bloody good and loving and supportive you’ve been to me, is farcical.”
Persephone waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t disagree with the fact there were plenty of times you were a vexing, arrogant dunderhead.”
The corners of Simon’s hard lips twitched in the grin she’d intended.
“What I’dwantedto say, if you’d let me finish, Simon…” Persephone forced a smile that, even to her, felt sad. “I’m not as honorable or good as I’d believed, and I’m certainly not as good as you deserve, because the truth remains, I want you anyway. Even loving you—”
“You love me?” he whispered.
Reverent awe, hope, and disbelief were all entangled within his question.
Tears clogged her throat. “I love you, Simon, but knowing there’ll be a scandal and you’ll be hurt and—”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Do you think I care about a scandal?”
“No,” Persephone murmured.
