Page 69 of The Good Duke
Just as Persephone wasabundantly clearshe had the perfect companion in mind for Simon: Beautiful. Loyal. Always donning a smile. The clever girl met all his requirements…and then some.
The better question, however, was whether new Simon was deserving ofthisparticular lovely lady?
Simon could be saved. He could change. Persephone believed that with the whole of her heart.
That was why she herself intended to hand deliver the gift Simon sought and needed.
Chapter 12
After two days devoted to the books and ledgers and official business which had forced him back to this hellhole of London, Simon, seated in his formal office, snapped his folio shut.
The magnificently radiant afternoon sun sent beams of light streaming through the crystal floor-to-ceiling windowpanes. Not a single cloud marred the azure blue sky.
Angling his head slowly, first left and then right, Simon stretched sore muscles, cramped from uninterrupted hours of use. They popped and released some of the tension he’d been carrying.
Simon tossed the leather folder aside to be worked on at a different time. Soon, but not today, and not tomorrow. For now, he’d finished.
During his last meeting with Persephone, it’d been doubtful he’d ever write anything other than numbers and notes in his ledgers. And if he did find himself with any time of hisown, it’d seemed a certainty Persephone would be there to lecture and chastise him.
With a satisfied smile, Simon reached for the one and only book he’d truly wished to be working with—his notebook.
There’d been no lectures, no chastisements, no defiant shows.
There’d been no…Persephone.
Simon had wanted peace, quiet, and solitude, andthatwas just what he’d got; more accurately, it was what Persephone had given him.
It couldonlymean Persephone—who took her role and responsibilities so very seriously that she’d brought him to task more times than days she’d shared a roof with him—had been hard at work and focused on her reason for being here.
Splendid.
Simon wasglad. Greater than glad, relieved.
His current discomfort with this quietonlyexisted because, after an endless slew of visits, demands, orders, and ribbing from Persephone, he’d been thoroughly confuddled.
The metal Atlas desk globe he’d returned with from France—that had been placed here by a servant—reflected back Simon’s frowning visage.
I…I…miss h—
His thoughts came to a blessed, screeching halt.
Simon recoiled and his mind balked.
What in hell?Had he truly been thinking he missed Persephone Forsyth’s visits?
Simon absolutely didnotmiss the back-and-forth repartee he’d had with Persephone since her arrival. Only a senseless fellowwould, and Simon was—always had been and alwayswouldbe—a logical fellow.
Allayed by that reminder, Simon opened his book, collected his pencil once more, and peered at his empty page.
Over.
And.
Over.
What to write? What to write?
Simon drummed the end of his pencil upon the gleaming surface of his desk in a staccato that quickly became grating.
