Page 99 of The Good Duke
Persephone looked once again at the child. “Hew,” she repeated and held out her palm.
The boy—Hew—grabbed four of Persephone’s fingers and waved them around playfully.
A soft, lyrical laugh spilled from Persephone’s lips, and Simon found himself unable to look away from her with the boy.
He had no memories of his mother, and aside from the mistresses he’d taken or lovers he’d had, there’d been no females in his life. Everything he understood about ladies of Polite Society indicated they weren’t ones to play with babes or care for children. That task was, instead, left to nursemaids.
The little boy tottered on his feet and started to tumble back, but Persephone caught him just in time. Even so, Hew erupted into noisy tears.
Persephone began to sing a soft, lilting song.
Simon’s breath stuck oddly in his lungs.
For everything hedidknow about her: her favorite pastimes. Her least favorite pastimes. Her favorite foods. The first perfume she’d ever worn; he’d never before witnessed her with a babe…until now.
Simon remained frozen, fixed upon that bucolic tableau of Persephone softly singing some jaunty lullaby to Hew.
He should not be surprised that with her humor, kindness, and tender heart, Persephone had a natural way with children. But something in knowing she’dlikelybe a loving, nurturing figure to a babe she’d just met was entirely different than witnessing that truth in action.
“She is very good with children.”
Lost in thought, it was a moment before Simon registered that quiet murmur. Confusedly, he looked at the lady who’d uttered those words about Persephone.
The young mother nodded her head toward the woman and child now petting Simon’s pup. “Your wife.”
Simon puzzled his brow.
My wife?
Had Persephone failed to inform him the whole ‘found his duchess and married her’ business had already taken place?
Then the conclusion this stranger had arrived at hit Simon square between the eyes.
Simon managed to find his voice. “She isn-notmy w-wife.” He threw his hands up and slashed them at the air repeatedly.
With something akin to horror, he glanced at Persephone—a flushed andscowlingPersephone.
The young mother gasped and clutched at her throat. “I—” Her cheeks bloomed with color. “My apologies, I thought…” She nodded slowly. “I thought…” Horror filled the woman’s light blue eyes.
Hurriedly, the woman reached for Hew, who, despite his tender years, took in the exchange with the same zeal of Simon’s still-smiling dog.
What the hell assumption had the lady made that now sent her fleeing like Simon and Persephone were two horned beasts come to hunt her precious babe?
He glanced to Persephone for help.
“What?” he mouthed.
Simon stilled. He whipped his gaze over to the young lady, frantically attempting to end the meeting between her son and Simon’s dog.
He looked to a brightly blushing Persephone for help.
She looked pained as he’d never seen her. What had he said that had so offended…?
Oh, hell.
He blanched. Good God. She thought… “You th-think—?”Persephone is my mistress?!
A perfectly composed Persephone stood and saved Simon from his stammering.
