Page 67 of The Good Duke
Initially, she’d been angered by the lack of solemnity which he’d put into the very important work of finding a bride who complemented him in every way.
Of a sudden, Persephone found herself enjoying this far more than she should.
Persephone picked up her belongings once more and waited for Simon to get himself properly settled before she spoke. “I want to begin by issuing you an apology.”
Shock rounded out his eyes. “Youwish to…apologize?”
Persephone nodded.
At that unspoken admission, Simon seemed to find his wits. He sat up straighter and reached for the lapels of his jacket.
“After all,” Persephone demurred, “I reacted as if you were thesameSimon youusedto be.”
Simon froze with his hands poised at the fabric of his jacket.
“What Ifailedto take into consideration,” she said, “is that you’ve since become an irrepressible rogue.”
“Irrepressible rogue,” he silently mouthed.
“You have developed a greater affinity for brandy…er…cognacand carousing and visiting wicked clubs. As such, it was simplywrongfor me todareto thinkyouwould be capable of keeping notes on weighty matters.”
His dark golden eyebrows dropped and then came together in a hard, unyielding line.
Persephone’s smile slipped, and she struggled to swallow past a sudden nervous lump in her throat.
She’d gone too far, pushed and pushed…and now crossed a line. Once more, she’d underestimated him and the forbidding man he’d grown up to be. And for the first time that morn, the tables were flipped, and the advantage went…to him.
With a lethal, cat-like slowness, Simon brought his palms to rest on the smooth, gleaming surface of his desk and leaned forward.
Persephone reflexively drew back in her seat.
“Do you know what I want?” he asked, in an echo of the earlier words she’d teased him with and the same ones he’d tempted her with.
Simon didn’t allow her a chance to answer. “I want a wife who is a graceful and clever hostess. She should require minimal—if any—training in those responsibilities. It is my expectation she, and she alone, will personally see to entertaining guests while I absolve myself from doing so.”
How condescending and jaded sat the man before her. Unlike before, she didn’t feel anger, but rather a crushing sadness. What had happened to him in their time apart?
He paused. “Are you getting all this, Persephone?”
She blinked several times, and then, with alacrity, she glanced down at her blank, but for a title, page. Persephone started to write.
She let her pen fly over the page, capturing all the items he’d listed thus far.
Simon didn’t wait to see if she were properly caught up. He continued to fire off his expectations.
“I require loyalty in my duchess and that she possess an agreeable temperament. In addition, she must be one who can be easily trained—and not by me—inothertasks I plan to entrust her with. And most importantly? She must be beautiful. A Diamond of the First Water. You will have greater access to that information for me. However, I’ve compiled a list.” He pulled out the center drawer of his desk and withdrew a sheet.
Simon handed it over.
Persephone stared at the thick sheet a moment and then reached for his page.
Hers and Simon’s fingers brushed; that touch elicited an electric charge that set off tingles from the place of contact, all the way up her arm.
Unnerved, she snatched the ivory velum quick enough to crinkle the corners.
Taking a steadying and silent breath, Persephone proceeded to read the names written in Simon’s familiar neat scrawl. His handwriting hadn’t changed.
The same, however, could not be said for his hopes and dreams about the woman he’d one day marry.
