Page 174 of The Good Duke
Now, with the repercussions staring down at them were they to damn the world and do what they wanted, the impossibility of it all filled Persephone with a hollow emptiness.
“Persephone.”
I cannot do this. No matter how much I want him.
This time, Simon’s sharp, crisp tones slashed into her misery. “Persephone.” He took her hard by the shoulders.
At some point, the servant had taken his leave.
Vacuously, she stared atthisman she loved more than she’d ever loved or would ever love anyone again.
Tears built in her throat.
“Simon,” she began all over again; this time, to deliver therightwords—even as they would succeed in finally breaking her. “I love you and Ialwayswill—”
Simon glared at her. “Just stop.”
“Simon,” she implored. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make this any harder than it already—”
“You’re not wrong, Persephone,” he said, ignoring her pleas. “There will be a scandal, and it will be bloody miserable for you and Lady Isabelle.”
“Andyou, Simon,” she interrupted, compelled to point out the part he wouldn’t say. “However bad it will be for me, it will be athousandfoldworse for you and Lady Isabelle.”
He scoffed. “As though I c—”
“Care how it reflects uponyou?” Persephone finished. She didn’t allow him a word edgewise. “Simon,” she said calmly, “either you’re lying to me, yourself, or both of us. Or maybe you actually believe what you’re saying, but Iknowyou.”
For too much of his life, he’d been unfairly brutalized by society, and the same way Persephone knew her own face was thesameway she knew how badly their ill-treatment had hurt him.
With a growl, Simon slammed a fist against his chest. “I’d rather cut my own heart out than live in a world where you are not my wife.” His eyes blazed with a rabid ferocity. “Given that, Iassureyou, the misery of a fleeting scandal is a far preferable fate.”
They were at an impasse.
Must we be… Why can you not trust him and in him and in you and him together?
Feeling herself weakening, Persephone hugged her arms around her middle and cast a desperate glance about.
“Persephone,” he murmured.
His tone soft brought her gaze back to him once more.
Simon drew her into his arms and touched his lips to her temple. “Do you trust me?” he asked gently.
“Of course.” Her answer was born from the automaticity of truth.
“It will be all right,” he promised. “Marry me, Persephone. Let us face whatever it is life has to throw at us, together.”
Together.
Persephone briefly closed her eyes.
Trust you two will be all right.
Some of the pressure in her chest eased, and Persephone opened her eyes. “I will, Simon.”
Then like one who feared she might change her mind if they lingered outside any longer, Simon held out his elbow. “Come, love. The world awaits us.”
When he said that with all the confidence and strength he did, Persephone believed him.
