Page 16 of Doxy for the Ton
He placed his palm on her face, then caressed it with his thumb, tracing the outline of her mouth. Her lips parted and his skin tightened at the gentle warmth of her sigh against his fingertips.
Her eyes fluttered open. They were a light shade of brown—like rich honey—with small green flecks in the center that shimmered in the sunlight.
He hadn’t noticed their color last night—overpowered as they were by the excess of powder and rouge, and that wig, the megrim-inducing shade of orange that hid her soft brown tresses.
“Mimi…” he breathed.
The name suited her—elfin and delicate.
She blinked, slowly, and he caught a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. Then she stiffened and her expression shuttered. Clutching the bedsheet to her body, she sat up. Then she ran her hand through her hair and her eyes widened with a flicker of panic.
She glanced toward the washstand and slipped off the bed, taking the bedsheet with her as she reached for the wig.
Alexander darted toward the washstand and snatched the wig.
“Give that to me,” she said. “It’s mine.”
“No.”
“A thief, are you?”
He held the wig up. “Why hide yourself beneath this—thisfilth?”
Pain glistened in her eyes. “You were willing to pay for that filth last night. You came to pleasure quick enough.”
His gut twisted with shame and he tossed the wig toward her, but she remained still, clinging to the bedsheet as the wig fell to the floor.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“For speaking the truth?” She blinked, then shook her head and stooped to retrieve the wig.
“Leave that,” he said. “Please.”
She stiffened. “That wig cost money.”
“I’ll pay you for it.”
She smirked. “Fancy it yourself?”
“I intend to destroy it, so you never have to wear it again.”
“It’ll cost you.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “You think I can’t afford it?”
“You know nothing about having to pay the price for something you cannot afford.”
“You think because I’m a duke I’ve not been faced with too high a price?” he said. “How about the loss of two lives—the loss of my respectability? My peers cannot bear to look at me—even those below me won’t associate themselves with me. I cannot even find a respectable mistress. I…”
His voice trailed off as he realized the meaning of his words. But the damage had already been done.
“So you thought you’d settle for a filthy whore such as myself?” she said.
“Perhaps at first, I thought…” He gestured in the air between them. “But then you—you were not like I’d expected.”
“What was I like?”
He stepped toward her and winced at the pain in his leg, which bore a fresh bandage from last night. She lowered her gaze to his leg, and he caught it again—the concern in her eyes.
