Page 49 of The Good Duke
A slow grin built on Simon’s lips. “It appears I have work for the ladyafter all.”
Chapter 9
For the twenty-somethingth time since she’d awoken, Persephone walked a path to the window overlooking the quiet Mayfair Street and peered at the world below.
Persephone had arisen well before the sun.
Nor had her current state anything to do with the decades-long routine she and the other instructors had been forced to develop at Mrs. Belden’s of rising while the sky was still dark.
Sleep had proven elusive, and the unfamiliarity of her temporary household had made it impossible to fall into a deep slumber.
Liar.
It hasn’t a thing to do with an unfamiliar house, but rather the unfamiliar friend occupying the residence.
Unfamiliar friends who did familiar things like riding at dawn, only to return disheveled.
Standing at the edge of the window from where she’d seen Simon ride off several hours ago, she peered out at the cobbled streets, which showed the beginning bustle of a busy London day, when she caught a glimpse of him guiding his midnight-black stallion to a stop at the front of his townhouse.
With his attention fully occupied by the footman, Persephone peeled the curtain back the tiniest fraction to avail herself to a better view of her childhood friend.
Simon effortlessly swung a leg over the side of his horse and dismounted with a familiar grace.
Persephone furrowed her brow.
What accounted for this uncertainty and unsureness around him? Persephone was not, and never had been, and never would be, a woman who found herself tongue-tied around a man. From her earliest days in Cheshire to the years upon years she’d been employed by Mrs. Belden as an instructor and matchmaker, Persephone had countless experiences dealing with all manner of men: titled ones and gentry. Those in the clergy. Working-class ones who’d found their circumstances elevated.
Nearly all of those men had been fathers. Some of them brothers. One of them had been Lord Woodhaven. And not even her former sweetheart had kept her in this unsettled state.
As if he felt her eyes upon him, Simon froze and looked up.
Their gazes locked.
Her heart racing, Persephone jumped back a fraction.
The gossamer thin curtains fluttered damningly, and she remained motionless.
Oh, God. He’d caught herspyingon him.
Mortification brought her toes curling up tight.
Stop being a ninny. You weren’t staring at him. Not really. Why, you were looking out the window at the very moment he’d happened to return, and your focus happened to snag on him for just a moment.
Yes,thatwas it.
With those assurances building her back up, Persephone crept back to the edge of the window and peeked out.
Some of the tension went out of her.
A dutiful servant had since joined Simon, and the two men spoke with an effortless ease Persephone had once felt around Simon.
In fact, the pair were so engrossed, she may as well have merely imagined that earlier collision of her and Simon’s gazes.
Why, he’d likely not even seen her—
Of a sudden, his gaze shot up.
She’d have to be a spectacle-wearing lady without her glasses to have failed to see the amused glimmer in Simon’s eyes—an amused glint that confirmed he’d indeed caught her watching him, not once, but nowtwice.
