Page 46 of The Good Duke
Lust bolted through him.
“As I said, she is…wasa finishing school instructor,” he said as much for his friend’s benefit as to ease his sudden erection. “I hardly think I’ve need for a proper governess.”
“There must be something—”
“She…prepared ladies for their Come Outs and accompanied a number of students to house parties to coordinate matches.”
“A matchmaker,” Pruitt said.
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” he muttered, recalling the umbrage she’d taken with the during.
His friend leaned forward. “What was that?”
There was an entirely too curious glint in the other man’s eyes.
Simon grunted. “The lady indicated matchmaker is among the roles she’s served in.”
The hell Simon intended to say much more than he already had.
“Well, there you have it.” Pruitt knocked the table. “We’ve found a purpose for the lady after all.”
His friend sounded so very certain and pleased with himself, Simon puzzled his brow. “And what purpose isthat?”
“Well, the entire reason you returned to London is so that you could tidy up your business here. You can find a bride and leave your duchess in charge of the day-to-day dealings. Then you’ll be free to invest your attentions and energies when and where you would.”
Marry Persephone Forsyth? He choked on a sip of his brandy. “Are you suggesting Imarrythe lady?”
“Marry some long in the tooth spinster?” Pruitt gave him an odd look. “Come now, I’m a friend, chum.”
Yes, he was and had been Simon’s only real one.
“Would I really suggest you saddle yourself with some crabbed school mistress, Greystoke?” Lowering his voice, Simon’s friend leaned across the table. “Let the matchmaker save you the time and energy of finding a bride. That way, you’re free to pursue your works. Marry whichever most suitable lady she brings before you, get an heir on your wife, and continue spending your days writing your stories and sponsoring others.”
Looking entirely pleased with himself, Pruitt sat back in his chair and looped his thumbs over the waistband of his trousers.
All the while, Simon just stared at him…and processed that surprisingly cognizant plan for Persephone.
Playing the courtship game was hardly one he’d relished over the years. However, he’d returned with an unholy eagerness to have those once defectors tripping over themselves for his attentions. Being gone as long as he had, Simon knew nothing about Society’s latest Diamonds. Nor, for that matter, did he care to waste his own time discovering those details. Nay, he’d be happy to cede those responsibilities to anyone else.
Only…
He waved a hand dismissively. “There is, of course, the matter of allowing an unmarried lady to live with me and pick my bride. I’m sure all the respectable mamas and papas would be thrilled by such a prospect.”
“She’s your late father’s cherished goddaughter, whose been gracious enough to serve as your social hostess and private secretary. Why, she could be your very own Lady Hester Stanhope.”
That gave Simon pause.
Lady Hester Stanhope. As in the late former Prime Minister Pitt’s niece, who’d handled the distinguished gentleman’s political social life.
With the ease with which the other man had concocted that story and plan, he may as well have been the writer of their pair.
Pruitt dropped his left elbow on the table and, in his right hand, held his snifter aloft, toasting Simon. “Granted, having a homely miss, whose been teaching at various finishing schools throughout London, also goes a long way towards misses and their mamas turning the other cheek to your sharing a household with said ward.”
Clinking his glass against Simon’s snifter on the table, Pruitt availed himself to a drink.
A homely miss?
Once again, thoughts of the grown version of Persephone Forsyth slipped in.
