Page 59 of The Good Duke
“But I’m not,” she felt inclined to point out.
“They don’t, and won’t, know that,” he said, exasperated. “We are practically family.”
Are? More like were? Better yet… “Estranged family,” she muttered to herself.
His lips formed a smile. “You will serve in the role of my social secretary. You will coordinate my schedule and also see to the role of helping me secure the next Duchess of Greystoke.”
“Like Lady Hester Stanhope?”
“Exactlylike Lady Hester Stanhope,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Furthermore,” he went on, “my reputation as a prim, respectable gentleman proceeds me.”
Persephone eyed him dubiously. “Have theyseenyou these past years?”
“No.” He flashed another grin. “But they’ll be operating under theirformerremembrances of Simon, the Earl of Primly.”
“And what are those?”
“That I was a bumbling, stammering, pathetic chawbacon.”
A pang struck her heart. How low his self-esteem had always been. But even when he’d been bullied, he’d known his self-worth. Or…she’d thought he did. Perhaps she hadn’t been such a very good friend to him after all, since she’d not helped him to see all the ways in which he was wonderful.
“You weren’t those things, Simon,” she said softly. He’d been loyal and tender and kind and sensitive, and those had only been some of the reasons she’d loved him.
He snorted. “I wasallthose things.”
Another ache settled in her breast. Is that howthey’dseen him? Or was it how he’d seen himself?
Simon gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Either way, those opinions of me only work in our favor. They’d never expect Simon Broadbent, Earl of Primly, would have designs upon an unwed lady living in my household and, at that, the goddaughter of my late, beloved parents. Such a fellow wouldn’t be capable of seduction.”
He certainly thought so…and he might be right.
Persephone contemplated Simon—and made herself focus not on regretful musings but instead on his offer.
He posed to her the role ofmatchmaker.
She didn’t doubt her abilities. Over the length of her career, she’d served in that role any number of times. She’d helped forge good, respectable, and even happy unions between well-suited individuals. Why should she not do it for her former best friend?
“I’ll…do it,” she finally said.
He didn’t reveal any outward reaction to her consent. His features remained as impassive.
“We will speak more tomorrow on my requirements.” He spoke as an aloof lord might any subservient servant—with a finality that marked their exchange was at an end.
Persephone stood, dropped a curtsy, and made to take her leave.
Theclick-clackof a pen striking parchment followed her steps. When she reached the door, Persephone paused and cast one more glance back his way.
Simon had already returned to his ledgers and books; his dark golden locks, longer than fashion dictated, formed a curtain on either side of his face.
She studied him a moment longer, yearning for him to lift his head and smile his old, safe, familiar smile and say he was merely pretending at being an emotionless, powerful duke.
Alas, he didn’t so much as lift his head from thatimportanttask before him.
Taking that as both a confirmation and cue, Persephone hastened from the room. The moment she stepped outside, she drew the door closed behind her and welcomed the space that panel put between her and Simon.
Simon had been correct. A woman needn’t fear anything from Simon Broadbent, former Earl of Primly.
A horrible pit settled in her belly.
