Page 131 of Doxy for the Ton
“I only thought of you,” he said. “I-I wanted to do something, to—to…”
“To what? Put your life in danger for the sake of honor?” She shook her head. “Honor is not worth dying for—at leastyourdefinition of honor.”
“My definition?”
“A gentleman’s,” she said. “Your idea of honor isn’t what’s good or what’s right. It’s merely an excuse to seek retribution on your enemies, or to punish others for not following the social rules you impose on them. Or”—her breath hitched as she clung to him—“it’s a stick with which to beat a woman who sells her body to earn enough to live on.”
“I don’t think less of you for being a…” He hesitated, unable to voice it.
“A whore,” she said. “It’s what I am. As a woman, I’ll forever be defined by what I did to survive, even if I intend never to do that again.”
“Foxton didn’t meanyouwhen he referred to whores and money,” Alexander said.
“Nevertheless, it’s Society’s view of women like me.”
They turned a corner, and the buildings of Grosvenor Square came into view.
She gestured toward number sixteen. “No matter how fine a house you place me in, or the gowns or jewels you gift me, it makes no difference to what I am on the inside.”
“What you are is the woman I love,” he said. “Don’t you see that?” He stopped and pulled her to him, his heart aching at the bruise on her cheek. “I care not who you were, or what you have done. I love you regardless.”
She blinked, and her eyes glistened with moisture, then she shivered.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said. “Damnation!” he cried as pain throbbed in his ear. “I almost wish the Farthing had shot me in the heart—it couldn’t hurt more thanthis.”
She steered him up the steps, and the door opened to reveal a red-faced Charles.
“I want a word withyou,” Alexander said. “How the devil did Lady Rex find out—”
“That’s enough, Alexander,” Mimi said. “He isn’t at fault.” She turned toward the boy and gave him a sweet smile. “Charles, I’ll be wanting clean cloths and some of that tincture we used on Mrs. Brennan when she cut her hand the other week.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The footman scuttled off, and Mimi led Alexander into the parlor and toward the chaise longue. She sat him in the very spot where he’d tended to her earlier that evening—where he’d watched her fall asleep before abandoning her to shoot the bastard who had laid his filthy hands on her.
After Charles brought in the cloths and tincture, she dabbed it on his ear, and Alexander winced, letting out a groan of pain.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“What for?” she asked crisply. “There are many transgressions to choose from.”
“For not being as brave as you,” he replied. “You uttered barely a whisper when I tended to your cheek earlier.”
Her lips curved into a smile. He took her hand and kissed it, but she withdrew it and resumed cleaning his ear.
“I never knew so small a wound could bleed so profusely,” he said.
“It’s slowing,” she said. “Once I’ve cleaned it up, you’ll hardly know the wound was there. The bullet must have just grazed the skin.”
“Enough to draw blood and secure victory, but not enough to cause great injury,” he said. “The Farthing is to be commended.”
“How can you speak so?” she said. “You could have been killed!”
“How else could I defend you, Mimi? Do you know how much it pained me to see that man, what he was doing to you, when I should have been there to protect you?”
“He didn’t violate me, Alexander,” she said. “I defended myself.”
“But he hurt you,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek. “My poor darling—he hurt you and I wasn’t there to stop him. But from now on, I’llalwaysbe there. I love you, Mimi.”
She looked away.
