Page 106 of Doxy for the Ton
“I am ready to be of service today,” he said.
Mimi cast her gaze over his clothes. “Your Grace, you can hardly expect me to take you to Mrs. Briggs dressed likethat.”
“What’s wrong with my attire?” he asked. “My valet had to rise even earlier than I this morning.”
“He dressed you like a duke.”
“Iama duke.”
“You’ll not last five minutes near the docks. You’ll be a duke-shaped beacon announcing to the world, ‘Rob me, please, and there’ll be pickings for all.’”
“I’ll be wearing my coat.”
“Trust me, ruffians on the street can smell a duke at a hundred paces,” Mimi said. “Don’t you recall the night we met?”
“Oh yes,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “I recall every delicious minute ofthatnight.”
“You’ll have to change,” Mimi said. “Charles, would you see if we have anything? A jacket and boots—breeches if you can find any. And a coat. Nothing too…elegant.”
The footman nodded and disappeared, returning shortly after with a pile of clothes in his arms.
Mimi suppressed a laugh at the expression on Alexander’s face.
“You expect me to wearthose?” he said.
“I’m giving you a choice,” she replied. “Stand out in your gentleman’s garb, or blend into the background and preserve the safety of your person.” She approached the door. “Charles and I will give you privacy.”
Charles held up the garments—a ragged undershirt together with a plain cotton overshirt, a necktie, and a pair of breeches fraying at the knees with a matching jacket and overcoat.
“These are all I could find that might fit the duke, Lady Rex,” he said.
Alexander stared at the garments. “I-I’m afraid I don’t…” He hesitated, his forehead creasing into a frown.
“Don’t what?” Mimi asked. “Don’t like them? Don’t think they’re good enough for you?”
“I-I don’t know how to put them on.”
“You don’t know how to—” Mimi broke off, suppressing laughter. “Shall I send Charles across the road to fetch your valet?”
His eyes filled with humiliation. Ashamed at her gentle teasing, Mimi gestured to the footman.
“Charles, place the garments on the table, then you may take your breakfast.”
The footman bowed and disappeared.
Alexander removed his jacket and waistcoat, then reached for his cravat.
“Damnation!” he muttered, tugging at the ends.
“Let me,” Mimi said. “You’re tightening the knot.” Her hand brushed against his as she reached for the cravat, and she drew in a sharp breath at the fizz of need that rippled across her skin. She glanced up to see him staring at her, his eyes dark with desire. He curled his fingers around hers, then released her hand and stood, meekly, while she loosened the knot, removed his cravat, and placed it on the table.
He fell silent, his gaze focused on her while she removed the rest of his garments. The only sound inside the parlor was the steady tick of the mantel clock, punctuated by the occasional hitch in his breath as her hands came into contact with his body while she tugged at his laces and undid his buttons. When she reached for his breeches, she glanced up to see him staring at her, his eyes wide with anticipation. Then she undid his breeches and pulled them down, letting them bunch on the floor while he stepped forward.
Silently, she dressed him, letting her hands follow the contours of his body while she smoothed each garment before picking up the next. As she buttoned his shirt, she succumbed to the temptation to feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers and placed her hand on his chest, relishing his warmth on her skin. When she picked up the necktie, he dipped his head and closed his eyes, and his breath caressed the skin of her hands while she reached around his neck and knotted the tie. Unable to resist, she ran a light fingertip along the back of his neck, and a low growl escaped his lips.
“Mimi…”
How could such an act—the simple service of dressing a man—be sointimate?
