Page 183 of The Good Duke
I’ll kill him…
Simon was going to kill him, and he didn’t care who was watching…and there were absolutely people watching—an entire audience stared at Bute and Persephone.
As if sensing the very thin thread Simon hung onto, Lord Kit exercised the self-control Simon couldn’t. Perhaps the other man’s lifetime career with the Home Office accounted for his restraint. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that Simon loved Persephone with all his soul, for he proved incapable of the same aplomb.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I suggest we adjourn so I can regale you with delicious secrets that will really quite shock you,” Lord Kit said with a booming joviality that even Simon almost took as real.
Lady Jersey cast a dubious eye on Persephone and Bute.
“Shock us more thanthis?” Lady Jersey drawled. She gave her head a disbelieving shake. “That remains doubtful, boy.”
“Ah, but you have witnessed nothing out here at all. Not really.” Lord Kit gave a waggle of his eyebrows and spoke in a loud whisper to the guests around him. “Now, the storiesIwill share will absolutely shock even cynics and those with the stoutest of hearts.”
Simon detected the flash of interest in the older woman’s eyes before she directed all her attention to Lord Kit, who could command a stage if he so wished.
“Indeed?” Lady Jersey asked.
The urbane gentleman extended his elbow. “Would I be so foolish as to lie to the fierce Lady Jersey?” He scoffed. “Never. Though it bears pointing out, my lady, that you would never be accused of being a cynic. All the world knows you possess a tender heart, which is just one of the reasons you are a beloved, gracious hostess and leader of theton.”
Like a girl of eighteen and not a matron of forty-eight, Lady Jersey preened under Lord Kit’s praise.
“Come then, you outrageous charmer, let our little group out here retire. We’ll decide for ourselves whether your claims are real or just the boasts of one with a glib tongue.” With that, she looped her arm through Lord Kit’s and allowed him to escort her off.
After everyone had disappeared inside, Lady Isabelle continued to linger in the gardens.
The young woman’s eyes glittered with tears and her features formed a perfect mask of sorrow.
“Miss F-Forsyth,” Lady Isabelle said, her voice cracking, “I am… I am so sorry I didn’t think…I didn’t believe…”
Persephone remained silent.
Then bowing her head, Lady Isabelle took herself off until Simon and Persephone…and Bute were alone.
Simon was immediately heading toward Persephone. She would be gutted at being caught this way. He’d come to find the woman she’d become worried too much about people’s opinions and put herself and her own feelings last. While he wanted to kill Bute, Simon wanted to protect Persephone even more.
“Persephone,” Simon said gruffly, quickening his stride to get to her.
Persephone, however, appeared oblivious to both Simon speaking to her or his presence.
As he continued his quick approach, Persephone spoke to the marquess.
Her words reached Simon.
“Did you do that on purpose, my lord?” Shock, disgust, and horror filled her husky contralto.
The marquess flashed a tight, empty smile. “I’m not disappointed by the outcome, if that is what you mean, Persephone.”
Simon saw red—as rage briefly blinded him.
Persephone reeled.
She managed to right her emotions before Simon. “And the outcome you speak of being your sloppy, shameful embrace or me being compromised by you?”
The marquess drew back, but then his smug, icy grin was firmly back in place.
“Both.” He paused. “With the exception, of course, of it being asloppy, shamefulembrace.”
“Bastard,” Persephone hissed and then brought her arm back.
