Page 94 of The Good Duke
“And, do you doubt my abilities to look after you?” he asked in apparent pique.
His abilities to look after me?
Her heart jumped a beat. “No,” she said quickly. “It is just… It is just…”
She tried to find the words. After her father’s passing, Persephone had been forced to fend for herself in the world. It’d been so long since anyone had worried after her, she didn’t even know what it was to feel safe and secure because ofsomeone.
To admit as much to Simon, however, would only stir a pity she did not want from anyone, but especially not him.
Lords, ladies, and maids trailing after their mistresses swarmed past, so it felt like Persephone and Simon stood still in time while the world rapidly carried on around them.
He nodded his head, urging her on. “Yes?”
She spoke past a suddenly dry lump in her throat. “As I said, it is just there are fiendish men about who think nothing of accosting a woman.”On her own, she silently tacked on. “That is all.”
Simon sharpened his gaze upon Persephone’s face and opened his mouth to no doubt persist.
Yap-yap-yap.
Lady Chloe’s piercing bark slashed through the chimerical moment where only Persephone and Simon existed.
Unnerved and needing some clarity of thought and space from all these new feelings roused by Simon, Persephone bent and patted the pretty pup on her head. “You sweet girl,” she crooned. “I am ever so sorry for not giving you the attention you deserve.”
Persephone properly composed herself, straightened, and turned to go.
Simon lightly caught her by the wrist in a discreet but determined hold.
An obedient Lady Chloe plopped down and, with her tongue hanging out sideways, stared up at her two handlers.
A hard glint iced Simon’s eyes; his features froze in a savage mask he’d never before donned—at least not as long as Persephone had known him.
With a contradictory gentleness that threatened to shatter Persephone, Simon drew her around a brick column so that they had some shelter from the world around them.
“If a man tried anything with me at your side, Persephone”—he moved a narrow-eyed gaze over her face—“that misstep would prove the last thing the bastard ever did.”
Simon’s silky promise managed to turn a menacing vow into a heartwarming blandishment.
“Do you hear me, Persephone?” he asked on a quiet murmur that contained enough steel to compel a response.
His penetrating gaze bore into her and stole her breath; it left her incapable of offering more than a shaky nod as her answer.
Simon released her, and Persephone felt that loss all the way to her soul.
Her throat worked painfully. This was all becoming too much. Knowing pleasure in his arms had been vastly easier and more uncomplicated. She didn’t know what to do with a protective, devoted Simon Broadbent.
He stared perplexedly at her. “What is it, Seph?”
Seph.
Oh, God, make him stop showing glimmers of who he truly was. Let him be the harsh, condescending rake who’d said all manner of wicked and horrible things to her.
“Miss Forsyth,” she whispered.
Simon shook his head.
“You cannot call me Persephone, and I cannot call you Simon,” she said thickly. “At least not in public.”
His expression darkened. “That is ridiculous.”
