Page 63 of If the Duke Dares
Aunt Lucinda turned to Persephone and Acton. “Now, take a short walk by yourselves—so we can see you, of course—since you’re also supposed to be deciding if you might suit.” She gave them an encouraging smile.
Acton offered Persephone his arm. She curled her hand around his sleeve and was instantly rewarded with a delicious heat that curled through her and settled low in her belly.
“Do you agree with your aunt that this has been successful for Pandora?” Acton asked as they walked.
“I think it’s early to make that assessment, but Aunt Lucinda is far more experienced in this area than I am. I am grateful to your sisters for coming today. How are you enjoying spending time with them?” She studied his profile as she awaited his response.
“It’s been rather nice, actually. They have good senses of humor, and they seem interested in forging a relationship.”
“Does that mean you are too?” He hadn’t said he wasn’t, but Persephone’s impression was that they had no relationship whatsoever, and he hadn’t seemed bothered by it.
“Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t think I’d missed having them in my life. How do you miss what you’ve never known?” His gaze met hers, and she gave him a slight nod.
“I understand that sentiment.”
“However, it turns out, I think I missed a great deal not having them—or my mother—in my life.”
She heard a note of confusion, as if he were wrestling with that realization. “Has that been difficult to accept?” she asked softly.
“Something like that, yes. It’s just…not what I expected. I only ever had my father. Now he is gone, and without them, I would have no one.”
Persephone wanted to put her arms around him and assure him he would not be alone. But how could she make such promises? She was only a friend to him, and even his friends—one of them, anyway—had disillusioned him of late.
He sent her a half smile. “At least you have your sister. And your aunt. I quite like her. It’s good that you have her in your life since your parents are…forgive me, I shouldn’t speak ill of them.”
Laughing, Persephone squeezed his arm. “Oh, please do. I’ve nothing kind to say about them at present. We don’t even know where theyareat this point. Are you sure they left Loxley Court? Perhaps they are still there awaiting your return.”
Acton chuckled. “They will be waiting some time. I have no plans to leave Bath at the moment.”
“I thought you had an engagement,” she said. “A house party?”
“I’m not inclined to attend, particularly since Bane is supposed to be there. I wrote to him and a few of our mutual friends to ask about this mystery bride of his. If I find out he lied about that, I…” His jaw clenched, and she watched his pulse tick in his neck. “I’m not sure what I will do, but I will no longer call him friend.”
They were walking in a circle to return to the others and had just passed the halfway point. “I was so very wrong about you,” Persephone said, setting her free hand atop his arm where her other hand held his sleeve.
He paused briefly, his gaze connecting with hers. “I’m not sure you were—at least not entirely. I do hope I may be changing. I certainly feel as if my life has changed since I met you.”
Persephone’s heart flipped over. She felt the same, but was afraid to say so. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“I think so.” He smiled, and they continued walking. “My only complaint is that I no longer get to spend as much time alone with you as when we were together in Gloucester.”
Persephone realized she missed that as well. “I admit it wasn’t all bad,” she said. “But that sort of behavior here in Bath would be ruinous.”
“Probably, unless we were very careful. I’ve surveyed the back gardens of the Crescent, and they are largely accessible if we ever cared to meet. Alas, we will not, because I am trying to reform myself.”
Shockingly, Persephone thought she might like to meet him—the rogue—in the garden. But that would break a great many Rogue Rules. She began to wonder if it might be all right to do so.
Did that make her a rogue?
“An admirable endeavor,” she said, glad for his self-restraint.
His gaze smoldered. “I confess it is taking all my willpower not to propose that you meet me in your aunt’s garden at, say, eleven this evening.”
Heart pounding, Persephone recognized his flirtation for precisely what it was: a rogue roguing. She should be offended, even if he wasn’t serious. Instead, she was incomparably thrilled by the way he was looking at her, by the singular way the sultry tone of his voice caressed her. Apparently, she could still be wooed, as she had been in her youth. Despite those situations turning out poorly—unsatisfying physical interactions and no interest or hope for a future—here she was again actually pondering meeting a man alone. Not just a man, but a scoundrel with a terrible reputation.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered unconvincingly, which surely conveyed she was considering it.
“Probably not.” He sighed. “But wouldn’t it be lovely if we did?”
