Page 137 of Doxy for the Ton
Dust sheets covered the furniture, and the vase in the window, which had always contained fresh flowers, was now empty, a forlorn silhouette in the center of the table.
The butler picked up a flat, square box from the dressing table.
“What’s that?” Alexander asked as Wheeler handed it to him.
Then he opened it and caught his breath. Nestled on a bed of thick, dark velvet was a necklace—a delicate chain bearing five diamonds, in graduating sizes, either side of a central stone. The stone seemed to shimmer with life, each facet a different shade of purple—from the rich burgundy of port wine, to the soft, cool lavender of the delicate flowers that nodded in the summer breeze and filled the air with their healing aroma. He reached out to caress it, tracing the shape with his fingertips, and flecks of light twinkled from within, as if the stone were alive.
“She left this?” Alexander whispered.
“Her instructions were to return it to you.”
“But it was a gift.”
“Perhaps it came with too high a price.”
Yes—it had come with a price. And Mimi had left knowing that she could not bear the cost.
“What have I done?”
You’ve driven away the woman who completes your soul.
Alexander held out the box. “Take it.”
The butler’s eyes widened, then he shook his head. “Sir, I cannot.”
“Consider it payment for your services,” Alexander said. “You’re a man of business, aren’t you? What man of business would refuse payment?”
“A man who understands that there are far more precious things in the world than jewels, Your Grace.”
Alexander caressed the amethyst, and it pulsed with life. Perhaps it had captured a piece of her soul while it nestled against her throat.
“It’s hardly my style,” Wheeler said, a trace of humor in his tone. “Besides, a piece so beautiful, so unique, deserves to adorn the loveliest neck in England. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?”
His voice caught in his throat, all Alexander could do was nod. The butler pushed the box toward him.
“Keep it, Your Grace,” he said. “Keep it as a symbol of hope.”
“Hope?”
The butler nodded. “Hope that, perhaps, one day, you may find it in your heart to seek true happiness—not merely that which you believe will make you happy.”
Then he bowed and exited the chamber, leaving Alexander alone, clinging to the necklace.
A poor substitute it might be, but he had nothing else.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Oakhurst House, Surrey, five months later
Mimi poured thetea and handed it to her guests—Eleanor and Lady Radham—before settling into her chair. She glanced about the parlor—herparlor—while children’s laughter could be heard in the garden outside: Lily’s son Sam, and Gabriel, Lady Radham’s eldest.
Since Mimi had taken possession of her house on the outskirts of Radham Village, bringing Lily and Sam with her, Lady Radham had visited almost every day. Mimi relished her privacy, but found herself welcoming her new neighbor’s company—particularly today, when she’d brought Eleanor with her.
“Your school’s almost ready, Miss King,” Lady Radham said. “I rode past yesterday. The work on the roof is complete.”
Mimi blushed at the reference to her real name. But if she were to make a new life, she needed to do it with honesty. Lady Rex, the respectable widow, no longer existed—neither did Mimi, the painted whore. The time had come for Jemima King to take her place in the world.
“When will the school open?” Lady Radham asked.
