Page 175 of The Good Duke
She placed her fingertips upon Simon’s sleeve and allowed him to escort her from the gardens.
Persephone knew it wasn’t the world she and Simon would first be facing, but rather a mere handful of Society’s most eminent peers.
That knowledge, however, did absolutely nothing to ease the dread twisting away at her insides.
Chapter 32
Simon promised Persephone everything would be all right, and it would—eventually.
Until they began on that longed-for path to their future, however, Simon, along with Persephone, found themselves in the midst of the tensest, most awkward dinner party.
Granted, keeping one’s guests of honor waiting more than thirty minutes was a certain way to ensure an uncomfortable beginning.
Of a certainty, Simon, sandwiched between the Marquess of Bute and Lady Isabelle, counted on the evening only getting worse.
Persephone being seated at the furthest end of the table from Simon and next to Lord Kit wasn’t helping Simon’s temper any.
The clink of porcelain touching porcelain plates filled the dining room; a room so quiet, one could hear the clink of one’s teeth as one chewed. Only Lady Jersey’s constant prattling broke what would have otherwise been a stilted silence.
A deep, booming laugh sounded from across the room and drew Simon’s attention to the source of that revelry.
Well, there was at least silence from Simon’s end of the table. The same could not be said for those guests seated at the opposite end—Lord and Lady Alex Edgerton, Lord Kit, andPersephone.
Persephone and Lord Kitappeared to be having adeucedgood time.
In fact, for the ease with which she smiled and laughed at every single bloody word that left the consummate charmer’s mouth, Simon may as well have imagined how overwrought Persephone had been in the gardens.
As if to hammer home Simon’s surly ruminations, Persephone laughed at whatever witty bit Lord Kit was saying now.
Gritting his teeth, Simon stabbed his knife into his dessert.
It wasn’t the evidence of her merriment that grated. What he despised to the core of his being, however, was that it was another man responsible for the cheerful bloom of color in her cheeks.
A low growl sounded to the left of Simon, and he glanced over.
With the daggers Lord Bute glared in Lord Kit’s direction, it was a wonder the man responsible for Persephone’s mirth hadn’t collapsed face-first into his crème brûlée.
It appeared with their like annoyance toward Lord Kit where Persephone was concerned, Simon and Bute were on the same side.
Clink-clink-clink.
A fork lightly tapped the edge of Simon’s plate and pulled his attention away from Lord Bute.
Confused, Simon glanced over. “Lady Isabelle,” he said dumbly.
The young woman flashed a dazzling white smile. “The very same.”
With her flaxen hair drawn about her head, fashioned in a coronet of gold tresses about her high, noble brow, and her defined regal features, there really could be no disputing Lady Isabelle possessed the manner of beauty to launch ships and start wars.
And yet…
Simon’s gaze slipped down the length of the table to where Persephone now conversed with Lady Imogene Edgerton.
Simon could have sat alongside Aphrodite and the immortal queen would have paled in comparison to the woman who kept his heart.
As if feeling Simon’s eyes upon her, Persephone slid a glance Simon’s way. A wistful smile formed on her lips. Then her dark eyebrows flared slightly; her mouth grew tremulous, and she put all her focus back on Lady Imogene, and Simon looked to his table partner.
Lady Isabelle gave a playful wave of her fingers.
