Page 173 of The Good Duke
Resting her free hand upon his chest, she slowly stroked him. “I know you will care about hurting Lady Isabelle and that you pride yourself on being good and honorable, and you are and will always be those things. I’m selfish, Simon,” she said. Her throat bobbed. “Because I want you in my life in any way I can have you—”
A low, animalistic growl reverberated from his chest.
“In any way?” His eyes flashed fire. “Persephone, do you truly believe what I’m offering you here and now is anything other than my whole heart and name.”
Holding her gaze, Simon sank to a knee.
She dimly registered the envelope filled with references and funds slipping through her fingers.
The packet hit the grass with a faint thump.
“What are you…?” she whispered.
“Marry me, Persephone. Be not only my friend and lover but my partner in life. Allow me to fill your days with the same laughter and joy you have always brought to mine.”
Her breath caught.
With an aching tenderness, he clasped Persephone’s hands in his and gave a light squeeze. “I hate that I was not there when your life was hardest because I wantallof you, Persephone. I want the days that are wonderful and. just as much, I want to be there for you and with you when life seems impossible.”
Tears filled her eyes and blurred his beautiful visage. She blinked furiously to clear those drops, to bring Simon into clearer focus, wanting to commit to memory everything about him and this moment.
He brushed his thumb over her cheek and dusted away the moisture that had already fallen. “But life won’t be impossible,” he vowed, “as long as we have one another.”
A sob escaped her, and she buried that sound in her fist. “Yes.”
His eyes flared. “Yes,” he repeated dumbly.
Simultaneously laughing and crying, Persephone nodded. “Y-Yes.”
Joining in with Persephone, Simon hauled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.
She instantly melted against him and surrendered herself completely to his embrace.
Since she’d found Simon here in London, she’d fought her feelings. She’d told herself he’d changed—which he had—but they both had. And she’d done so because she couldn’t imagine a world in which she could have him in all the ways she wanted him.
Suddenly, in one effortless movement, Simon broke the embrace and jumped to his feet.
As he positioned himself in front of her, Persephone stood dazed.
What…?
“My apologies, Your Grace,” a servant called over from several yards away. “The guests have all arrived and were escorted to the Blue Parlor…to wait.”
The guests?
Just like that, from the dream she’d just allowed herself, Persephone came rushing back to reality, and the world came crashing in.
The Dinner Party of the Season as the papers had written of the intimate affair.
Lady Isabelle.
The Marquess of Bute.
All the joy of before faded and a sick feeling formed in Persephone’s stomach.
As if from down a long hall, Simon’s voice moved in and out of focus as he spoke with the liveried servant.
In the moment between Simon’s profession of love and offer of marriage, it’d been all too easy to pretend their love could conquer all and that she and Simon’s love mattered more than anything.
