Page 26 of The Good Duke (The Licentious Lords #1)

Years Earlier

London, England

T he day Persephone met Silas, she’d been in the schoolroom with Lady Issy and her older sister, Lady Henrietta. They were enacting—rather loudly since the Marquess and Marchioness of Bute were gone— Othello from The Great Bard.

Subsequently, Silas had returned to Branton Manor to see his siblings without the torture of seeing his father.

Persephone had been voicing the part of a witch. “Bid her come hither— go !”

“N-Never!” Issy cried.

“What? You dare betray me?” Persephone’s snake-like hiss thundered.

“Please, stop,” Henrietta cried.

Silas had burst into the room at that moment, no doubt hearing his sisters’ cries.

“Stop! You harridan,” he blurted. “You are fired!”

Henrietta glared at him. “Do not call Miss Forsyth a harridan ever again.” As if to cement her warning, she placed a swift and painful kick to his shin.

He grunted and hissed with pain. “ Henrietta. ”

Issy delivered a kick of her own, with a force and strength better suited a grown man, and stuck her finger in his face. “ Or sack her.”

Persephone gave her head a slight shake. “Issy,” she gently scolded.

Silas had grimaced as he rubbed his shins, but that wry turn of his lips melted into a grin. “It does not escape me that your less than timely, but certainly not at all severe chastising of my vexatious sisters comes only after they’ve each taken skin off my shins,” he dryly noted.

Persephone felt a smile tug her lips.

“This is true, my lord,” she murmured with a tried solemnity. “They are not, however, the ones who interrupted our scene.”

Silas wrinkled his brow. “Scene?”

“Yes, you dolt,” Henrietta snapped. “As in our scene from Othello .”

“You were performing ?” he asked.

“Shakespeare, my lord,” Persephone explained, recalling the gentleman’s attention.

“I’m familiar with the Great Bard’s works, Miss Forsyth,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“If that was the case, you’d have recognized only some of the most famous verses ever,” Henrietta pointed out.

Among the many restraints the marquess and marchioness placed on their daughters, acting would absolutely fall on the list of forbidden lessons or activities for proper ladies. Persephone might well and truly be sacked if the earl told his parents that day.

“Oh, Silas, it is most wonderful,” Issy piped in happily. Like a young debutante who’d fallen in love with her first beau, she clasped her hands at her heart.

“Or it was,” Henrietta shot Silas an annoyed look. “Until you went and ruined it.”

As if to emphasize her bigger sister’s reproof, Issy delivered Silas yet another kick, catching him unawares— again .

Persephone desperately fought a smile. “Issy, we do not kick,” she gently reminded.

“But, Miss Forsyth, you said we may kick or punch a gentleman when the situation merits it. This situation certainly merited it.”

“That isn’t one of those situations Miss Forsyth spoke of, Issy.” Henrietta spoke with all the beleaguered annoyance only an older sister could manage for her little sister.

While his sisters proceeded to quarrel, Lord Milford-Haven folded his arms loosely at his chest and returned all his attention to Persephone.

“Instructing my sisters on the art of warfare are you, Miss Forsyth?” he drawled.

“Given they are young ladies, and the world is filled with iniquitous rogues, and Lady Henrietta is about to have her debut, it seemed like the very best place to begin,” she murmured.

“My brother is a rogue,” Issy piped in.

Color splotched the gentleman’s cheek. “I am not a rogue.”

Persephone caught the warning look he shot to the younger, more innocent of her charges.

Issy scrunched her face up in adorable confusion. “ Mother says you are.”

Henrietta sighed. “A rake,” she corrected, like one imparting sage wisdom. “Mother and Father refer to Silas as a rake .”

This time, Persephone couldn’t hide her smile entirely.

When quarreling recommenced, the earl resumed speaking to Persephone. “I’m not, you know,” he said. “A rake, that is. Or a rogue, for that matter.”

“Actually, I do not know, my lord,” Persephone demurred. Be that as it may, she highly doubted the veracity of his claim.

Lord Milford-Haven frowned.

“Well, I’m not ,” he insisted like a petulant child.

Persephone looked squarely at him, sure of the lie he told.

“Very well,” he murmured, sliding closer. “I was a rogue.”

“And you’re no longer one now?” Persephone pretended to be unaffected by his efforts at charming her and let her hilarity shine through for the future marquess to see.

“You have reformed me, Miss Forsyth,” he avowed with a husk to his voice.

She snorted. “I will be sure to add that to my resume for future posts—reformer of rakes.”

As soon as the words slipped out, a burning heat flooded Persephone’s face. “I did not mean…that is…what I meant to…”

Lord Milford-Haven placed a fingertip against her lips and quelled the flow of her words. His touch left her warm all over.

“You did not mean to suggest you’ll reform me?” he asked quietly.

“N-No,” she said, her voice whispery soft.

“That is a shame.” He leaned close. “I would like that very much, Miss Forsyth. In fact, I believe you are just the woman to do it.”

An electric charge, like the kind before a lightning strike, passed between them.

Henrietta’s aggrieved exclamation shattered the moment. “Would you leave already, Silas?”

Persephone and the earl jumped apart.

Lord Milford-Haven grinned. “Do you know, I don’t think I will, poppet.” He gently flicked the tip of his sister’s nose, and she immediately swatted his hand away from her person.

Persephone watched on warily.

The ease with which the charming gentleman’s expression went from smoldering to playful and unaffected was testament to his status of dashing rogue. And she hated that her heart should race so dangerously because of him.

As if he’d sensed her disquiet, he shifted his focus back to Persephone, his gaze cold sober.

Henrietta stamped a foot. “We are attempting to perform, Silas, and have only until Mother and Father return to do so.”

“My apologies, beautiful ladies,” the earl murmured, not looking away from Persephone.

She, however, needed him to go. He made her head swim, and that was something she couldn’t afford to let happen. A governess did not become involved with her employer or the man’s son—no matter how debonair he might be.

Steadied by that reminder, Persephone sank into a curtsy. “Thank you for visiting, my lord,” she said, making his excuses for him. “Let us not keep you. I trust you have important business to attend.”

Henrietta snorted. “Important business.”

Lord Milford-Haven scowled at the young girl; his warning look went unheeded.

“Important rogue business, maybe.” The spirited girl stuck her tongue out, and the earl stuck his tongue out in return.

Persephone’s eyes formed enormous circles. Never before had she witnessed a gentleman so playful with his sisters. It proved alarmingly endearing.

This time, Issy stamped her feet. “I don’t care what business Silas has!” she cried. “We do not ever see you—”

“You see me,” he protested.

“Fine,” she allowed. “We haven’t seen you in a while, so I want him to stay. Can he stay, Miss Forsyth, please ?”

He locked gazes with Persephone. “What say you, Miss Forsyth?” he asked solemnly. “May I please stay?”

Persephone did not miss the earl’s real but veiled question. She nibbled at her lower lip.

“If his lordship would like that,” she reluctantly conceded. After all, who was Persephone to tell the man who would someday be lord of the manor he could or couldn’t stay? Especially when she found she wanted him to stay.

Lord Milford-Haven bowed his head. “I would like that very much, Miss Forsyth.”

And the way he said it, she could actually believe what he said.

Utterly preposterous.

As the earl settled into a seat to watch the trio of ladies perform, what Persephone didn’t know—yet—was that his earlier words hadn’t merely been a rogue’s flirting, but the invitation to her ruin.