Page 26 of The Good Duke
When it became apparent she didn’t intend to add anything more, he said, “One that I trust you intend to answer.”
And then her words came tumbling free.
“I have been an instructor for some years now at Mrs. Belden’s. It isthepremier institution in England and has served young ladies for seven decades now. Mrs. Belden’s grandmother, and mother before her, established a school to shape the minds of young ladies and turn them into cultured, capable women who will lead London’s drawing rooms. Mayhap you’ve heard of it?”
She paused long enough to take a breath.
He shook his head. “I’ve n—”
“Yes,” she went on, apparently requiring no real confirmation either way from him. “As I was saying, I was an instructor who helped young ladies assess the personality traits of a prospective partner and offer them guidance on the more valuable qualities they should seek. My services would on occasion take me to various points of England, where I would join my students at house parties or during their London Seasons as a chaperone and confidante.”
“A matchmaker,” he said disbelievingly. “You are a matchmaker.”
Persephone wrinkled her pert nose. “That isoneway of describing my role.”
Neither the irony nor the ridiculousness of the moment was lost on him. He sat here naked, conversing with a lady as casually as two parishioners who’d just left Sunday services.
“How wouldyoudescribe your role?” he drawled.
Color blossomed on her cheeks. “I’ve never been much one for titles. Titles just box one in, and you know how I don’t like to be shoehorned.”
No, she hadn’t, he thought wryly, as she proceeded to prattle on and fill the very brief void of silence. No doubt to prevent him from debating her on the descriptor of her work. Not much had changed there either. She still had an equal perchance for being right as for prattling.
“…and unfortunately, I…”
His ears pricked up. “What was that?”
“I was…saffed,” she mumbled.
Simon attempted to make out that mumbling.
“Which really is unfortunate as I was…amquite good at my work.”
“What was that?”
“I said I’m quite good at my—”
“No, no,” he cut her short. “You were…saffed?”
The crimson color on her cheeks deepened. “Sacked. As in…dismissed. Discharged. Disemployed.”
He opened his mouth to ask which offense it was that had seen her “saffed” and thought better of it. It really was time for her to leave—far past it, in fact.
Alas, Persephone appeared all too comfortable carrying on this exchange with him naked and her standing over him.
“Upon discovering a male nude I had drawn, she let me go. That is, her attention was brought to the fact I had a male nude in my sketchbook.”
He stilled. “Not.”Please, no.“Not…the one…” Horror filled every part of him. “Notthat…one. Oh, myGoood.”
Persephone scrunched her brow up in confusion. “You were never squeamish. Why—” Understanding lit her eyes. “Ahh, you’re worried it was my drawing ofyou.”
Simon dissolved into a choking fit.
Persephone was there in an instant, around the back of the tub. “Worry not, Simon. It wasn’t the sketch I did ofyourpenis.”
He gasped and choked all the more.
Persephone thumped him hard between the shoulder blades. Each solid thwack sent water sloshing and slapping over the edge of the bath.
