Page 121 of Doxy for the Ton
It was second best to his love, but freedom would, at least, save her from heartbreak and destruction.
“Who is it, Charles?” Mimi asked, removing her redingote and handing it to him.
“He didn’t give a card, but he said you were old friends. He’s in the parlor. Shall I bring tea?”
“You didn’t think to ask his name?”
“Forgive me, ma’am, I’m always forgetting things. Mr. Wheeler will be ever so angry.”
“It matters not,” Mimi said, touching his arm. “What Mr. Wheeler doesn’t know won’t harm him.”
“Thank you ma’am. We’re going to miss you when you leave.”
“I’m sure whoever takes over this house will be a fair mistress—or master,” Mimi said.
“There’s none so fair as you.”
“You flatter me, Charles.”
“It’s not just me who says so. You should’ve heard what Auntie…I mean, Mrs. Hodge said last night over supper. ‘Charles, it’s a shame Lady Rex will be leaving us after such a short time, for she’s been the kindest mistress.’ And even Mr. Wheeler said—”
“Charles, we mustn’t keep my guest waiting,” Mimi said.
“Very good, ma’am.”
The footman bowed and disappeared along the hallway. Then Mimi pushed open the parlor door.
Her guest stood at the window, his back to her, a cane in his right hand.
“Do I know you, sir?” Mimi said.
“I saw you from the window.”
Her gut twisted with horror at the familiar voice—with its sharp, nasal tones that had swelled her fears and plagued her nightmares. It was a voice she’d hoped never to hear again, but that hope faded the moment she’d looked into his eyes at the concert.
He turned slowly to face her.
“Earl Mayhew,” she whispered.
He approached, tapping his cane on the floor, his pale-gray eyes filled with contempt.
“Lady Rex,” he said, his tone mocking. “My, how you’ve risen in the world—Miss Jemima King.”
She stepped back, her stomach churning at the stench of his cologne.
“My name is—”
“Spare me your falsehoods,” he sneered. “You may have convinced everyone else that you’re a respectable widow, but I’m not so easily fooled. LadyRex, indeed! You think I don’t know Latin, Miss King? No knight—not even one liberal enough to live on the Continent—would take a whore for a wife.” He gestured about the parlor with his cane. “I take it Sawbridge pays for this,” he said. “Does he know you’re a common whore?”
“Lord Mayhew, please, I—”
“Please what? Do you wish me to keep your sordid secret? Are you fishing for a marriage proposal from Sawbridge? Ha! A whore could never snare a duke—especiallythatone. You’re just the latest in a long list of tarts he’s fucked.”
“I care not what you say,” she said. “I’m leaving Town.”
“Come to his senses and tossed you out, has he?”
He stepped closer, and Mimi moved to dodge him, but he blocked her with his cane.
