Page 75 of The Good Duke
Pruitt gave him a queer look.
“Her name is Miss Forsyth. Not ‘my dear.’” Simon seethed. “Miss Forsyth. Lord Kit Pruitt.” Simon flew through the introductions. “Lord Kit Pruitt. Miss Forsyth. Now the introductions are completed, and we can be done with…” He slashed a hand about the air. “All this.”
Lord Pruitt inclined his head. “Ah, it appears I maneuvered ole Greystoke into a proper introduction after all.” He directed that flat deliverance not at Persephone, but Simon.
If looks could burn, then Lord Pruitt would be a pile of ash that Persephone, the ducal servant, was left to sweep up on her way out. And then it hit her, the austere, yet reluctant way Simon spoke her name, his annoyance at her being in the same room as his friend.
Lord Pruitt slid closer, took Persephone’s fingers, and raised them close to his mouth. “It was a pleasure—”
From the corner of her eye, Persephone caught the narrow-eyed glance Simon slid Lord Pruitt’s way.
“Miss Forsyth,” Lord Pruitt neatly substituted. He gently turned her hand over and placed his lips on the sensitive seam of her wrist. “A pleasure, my dear.” His deep, sonorous voice contained more than a trace of reverence that put the gentleman at odds with the dismissive duke.
“Lord Pruitt,” she murmured.
All the while, she felt Simon’s seething gaze upon them, his loathing and disgust palpable.
“Pruitt, if you would excuse us,” he said frostily, directing his angry gaze toward the other gentleman present. “I have business to attend withMissForsyth,” he added crisply.
The other gentleman inclined his head but made no immediate move to release her hand. Instead, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin his lips had touched.
She remained wholly unmoved.
“Pruitt,” Simon snapped.
Persephone and Lord Pruitt looked at Simon. His hate-filled gaze remained locked, trapped, and fixed square on them.
Pruitt held her hand a moment longer, and then, at last, released Persephone from his overly bold touch.
“My lord,” she murmured.
“Until we meet again, Miss Forsyth.” Lord Pruitt gave her a meaningful look. “Which I hope will be sooner rather than later.”
“It won’t,” Simon barked. “Miss Forsyth has responsibilities which do not include entertaining rogues and scoundrels such as you, Pruitt.”
Then, square in her chest with the force of a fast-moving carriage, it hit Persephone.
He is embarrassed of me.
With a bow for Persephone and a long look at Simon, the gentleman let himself out, leaving Persephone and Simon…alone.
Throughout Persephone’s ignominious existence, she’d been viewed as or treated as an oddity more times than she could count. Somehow, however, knowing Simon felt this way about her, that hetoofound her as unworthy as her former lover had, left her with a sudden urge to cry.
“I don’t want you near Pruitt,” he said the moment they were alone.
There it was.
“I understand,” she said stiffly.
Refusing to meet his gaze, lest she set free all the words whirring in her head, she balled and unballed her hands at her sides.
Simon crooked four fingers and motioned her closer. Force of habit from years of doing the bidding of others caused Persephone to automatically move, but then she managed to catch herself several feet away.
At that show of defiance, his thick golden lashes swept low.
“What is it youthinkyou understand, Persephone?” he asked huskily, moving out from behind his desk.
It was one thing being treated as a lesser for no other reason than her circumstances. It was quite another having Simon treat her thusly.
