Page 48 of The Good Duke
“…A wise man once said ‘a spirit is a spirit is a spirit…’” They’re all a type of vile, just a varying degree of it…”
If she took umbrage with his indulging in the gentlemanly habit of spirits, what would she say about—?
Aphrodite reached between his legs and stroked him.
Simon set the woman hastily from his lap. “As much as I regret turning you away, I’ve business matters to discuss.” It was a lie. He just couldn’t go about bedding a prostitute while thinking of Seph.
Her lips formed a perfect pout. “Ye certain, Your Grace? I can show you a good time while yer talking about business matters,” she suggested, her voice sliding in and out of roughened street tones.
The determined beauty reached again for his shaft.
Simon intercepted her efforts. “As much as I regret doing so, I must decline.”
He had changed, but he wasn’tsomuch a reprobate that he could speak about Persephone one instant while bedding a prostitute the next.
Simon reached into his jacket and withdrew several coins. To soften her disappointment, he pressed them into Aphrodite’s hands.
Brightening, the woman slipped away and wandered between the other filled mahogany tables in search of her next client.
With the beautiful Cyprian now gone, Pruitt instantly returned to their previous talks.
“The thing of it is?” his friend began excitedly. “As a duke now, you’ll have your pick of any lady who wants nothing more than to be a duchess. A lady who will gladly allow you to your travels and writing…and anything else, as long as she is afforded the rank and wealth that comes withbeingyour wife.”
His friend scoffed. “In fact, do you truly believe the woman you decide to wed will care either way if you’re bedding your secretary as long as you’re marrying her?”
No. His friend was not wrong in that regard. The manner of women he’d attract with his new rank would only care about his title.
“Nay,” Pruitt said excitedly. “They—along with their grasping mamas and papas—will gladly forgive you any slights or outrageous behaviors, all for the privilege of securing a duke.”
Another time, Simon would have been horrified at that mercenary take on marriage. No longer. Now, he well knew the way the world worked. In short, for kind gentlemen with stammers and good intentions, it didn’t. For dukes who didn’t give a damn about anyone, the world was their proverbial oyster.
“Undoubtedly,” his friend went on, bringing Simon back to the discussion, “thetonwill even sing your praises for being so very devoted to your late father’s homely niece.”
Simon grimaced. There seemed something unnatural in thinking of Persephone in the familial light. “Goddaughter,” he corrected. “And she’s not—” Simon bit his tongue to keep from sharing a more accurate description of the lady now holding his thoughts hostage.
“Goddaughter. Niece.” Pruitt gave a wave of his hand. “Whichever.”
Having long since learned romance was best reserved for the pages of a book and not for himself, Simon contemplated his friend’s particularly inventive proposal.
Simon needed to get on with the tedious business of finding a wife, that excruciating courtship process he’d taken part in before—and without any success.
As Pruitt had pointed out, however, with Simon having returned a newly minted duke, this time he’d succeed where before he failed—this time, the women he pursued would only be those grasping ladies who aspired to be a duchess.
Which was more than fine with him. He’d come to understand some people found love, butmostdid not.
The sole reason he’d returned to London had been to shore up his affairs before taking himself off to the Continent.
He’d known that in doing so, there’d be a long period where he’d be forced to set aside his writing.
What his friend proposed, however, painted an altogether different option.
If he hired Persephone to play the role of matchmaker, she could focus on all things surrounding his inevitable union.She’dcull lists of ladies and arrange gatherings. Simon would decide on a bride and then hie himself off.
The more the thought percolated, the more energized he became.
Simon could continue seeing to his writing and his own pleasures, while Persephone saw to those tedious but necessary details around his very reason for being back. He would give her names of all the gents who’d once bullied him and have her handpick the ones whose sisters were the most coveted on the Marriage Mart.
Pruitt dusted off invisible specks of lint from each sleeve. “Go on,” he said. “I’m waiting. You may thank me.”
