Page 57 of The Good Duke
She’d just not expected to hear such words spoken…by Simon.
Why should you be surprised? He is a lord; at that, a duke now.
The reminder of the man she’d entrusted her heart to surprisingly didn’t hurt half as much as the further discovery of just how much Simon had changed.
“Miss Forsyth?”
Startled, Persephone’s eyes flew open as she came whirring right back to the moment.
A question in his gaze, Simon stared back.
She gave her head a slight shake, clearing the cobwebs of her past.
“You’ve indicated you found a use for me,” she said, steady once more. “I trust the next natural order would be for you to explain what that use is.”
“I intend to marry.”
Persephone widened her eyes. “You’re asking me tomarryyou?” Her heart jumped in a funny way.
“No!”
That declination flew so swiftly, so adamantly from his lips, she bristled.
“I was teasing, Simon.” She hadn’t been. But she’d sooner lop her limbs off than admit as much. “Do you really thinkIwouldthink, after all these years apart, you’d be proposingmarriage?”
Some of the tension went out of him. “Of course. It’s been…many years. I forgot how you were.”
How she was. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about his recollections of her, because working for Mrs. Belden and in various respectable households, her spirit had been stifled, so that she oft-wondered if she’d merely imagined the carefree girl she’d been.
But that girl was well and truly gone.
The woman who’d replaced her had a mind for one thing—security.
“Perhaps you may tell me exactly what role you envision for me in your quest for a bride, Your Grace?” Given they discussed official services she might provide him, the exchange merited that formality.
“I’ve been abroad these past years and only just returned,” he said. “I’m approaching my fortieth year. Not a young man.”
“Not an old one either.” Not many years older than herself, she bit her tongue to keep from pointing out.
“It’s time I married,” he continued. “I’m not looking to have a drawn-out search or courtship. I’d tie up the matter so that I can resume my business.”
Tie up the matter?
A drawn-out courtship?
She peered for any hint of the young boy who’d once shared with her that he hoped to have a loving marriage like that of his parents.
“You want me to play matchmaker for you, Your Grace?” she asked, needing that fact clarified.
“I do.”
She contemplated his offer.
Her working in that capacity for a man was nothing short of unconventional. It was unheard of. Failure to take the post he offered, however, would also mean she found herself unemployed, without references, without prospects.
Destitute.
“Miss Forsyth?” he prodded. “Do you feel this is something you can assist with?”
