Page 18 of Doxy for the Ton
“Oh, I have,” he said. “But to refuse me without discussing your price?”
“I won’t be beholden to any man, with an uncertain future.”
“There’s no uncertainty about it,” he said. “I’ll pay you an agreed sum to be my mistress until next summer.”
“Next summer?”
“The start of the London Season,” he replied. “At which point I’ll have no more need of your services.”
“Because you’ll replace me with a morerespectablemistress?” she sneered. “Or a wife?”
He snorted. “I’ve no need for awife. The offer’s there—take it or leave it.”
“Why would I?”
“Because we can help each other.”
She let out a laugh. “How can I helpyou?”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she saw the pain in his eyes—pain brought about by grief, shame…
…and loneliness.
What would a duke—a man who could purchase anything on a whim—know about loneliness?
Then he blinked and the expression was gone. He was almost as accomplished at playing a part as she.
“Are you willing to consider my offer or not?” he asked. “If not, you should leave before my valet catches you in here.”
“Not without my ten guineas,” she replied. “And I doubtyourvalet would be surprised to find a whore in his master’s bedchamber.”
He flinched.
“I have yet to hear what I stand to gain,” she continued. “So far, you’ve only told me whatyouwant.”
“A thousand pounds.”
Her stomach fluttered and she fought to retain her composure.
Surely she’d not heard that right?
Then he sighed.
“Very well,” he said. “Guineas. One thousandguineas.”
Sweet heaven!It was more than she could dream of. Enough to set her up for life—and others who relied on her.
Enough to make adifference.
He stepped closer. “Well?”
The arrogant tilt of his chin needled at her. No doubt he’d make her earn every penny, having her at his beck and call. In which case…
She folded her arms, tilted her chin, and met his gaze.
“Two,” she said.
A smile danced on his lips and his eyes twinkled with amusement. Then he extended his hand.
