Page 68 of The Good Duke
Like the delicate flutter of a butterfly’s wings, a memory flitted forward—of her and Simon sprawled on their backs and examining the star-studded night sky.
“You have to marry because you’ll be the earl, Simon. But if you wed one of those snobbish, haughty ladies who care more about fripperies than friends or family, I shan’t ever forgive you.”
The grass rustled quietly, indicating he’d turned his head, and she did the same to meet his solemn gaze.
“Seph, she’ll have to be intelligent and big-hearted, and like books and be curious, and make me laugh, but also laugh at my jests.” His expression grew more serious. “In short, I fear you’ve quite ruined me for other women. Which means, we will have to marry someday.”
Persephone started. Her heart knocked about, and she searched her gaze over his deadly serious features.
Suddenly, a grin crept onto his lips.
Persephone laughed and gave his shoulder a light punch. “You teaser.”
His smile widened. “You know me…”
Simon spoke, recalling her to the present.
“I’d like you to identify whether they have daughters of marriageable age. You are free also to add the names of women whom you believe may suit my needs, but I’d prefer you select one from that sheet I’ve given you.”
Dumbstruck, Persephone tucked the list into the back of her notebook to keep it safe.
He’d taken notes after all. Not of qualities he admired in a woman, but about which bloodlines she possessed—much in the same way he would a prize mare.
She’d known Simon had become cynical in their time apart. She’d just not known he’d become so deadened.
The changes life had wrought in him hurt like a physical blow. Of a sudden, she had the same urge to rescue him as she’d done the injured birds who’d needed their wings nursed.
Simon nudged his chin her way. “I hope you have all that, Persephone.”
“I do,” she said softly, lying through her teeth.
He gave her a pointed look. “In your notebook.”
His wasn’t a question, as he called out her fib.
The penetrative stare he leveled on her sent Persephone’s gaze downward. With an unsteady hand, she frantically added the rest of his parameters for his future duchess.
And she discovered she was a greater coward than she’d previously taken herself as, for even after she’d completed her list—hislist—she didn’t lift her gaze to his for several moments more. Instead, she pretended to read.
“Now, I do,” she murmured.
“Have I been clear?”
“Abundantly so, Simon.”
“We are done here, then.”
She’d have to be deaf as a post to fail to hear the ducal dismissal there.
The years she’d spent employed by austere, powerful noblemen brought her swiftly and reflexively to her feet.
Persephone dropped a curtsy.
She needn’t have bothered. Simon had already returned all his attention to whatever it was he’d been working at when she’d arrived.
As she made the ignominious march from the parlor, Persephone set her chin.
He’d beenabundantlyclear in his wishes and requests and demands.
