Page 4 of Doxy for the Ton
A glimmer of hope swelled inside her. “Unless what?”
“Unless you’d like to continue to earn your keep. If you were willing to stiffen that old man’s cock, you might relish the prospect of servicing mine.”
Nausea swelled as another stab of pain ignited in her stomach. “How can you say such things?”
“Quite easily,” he said. “It’s how a slut earns her keep, is it not?”
She gestured to the ring. “Your father and I were—”
“My father was a fool if he thought his family would ever accept a whore!” he snarled. “To think—a grubby slut polluting Purley Manor!” He turned his head toward the door. “My man—come here!”
The door opened—a little too quickly—to reveal the red-faced footman.
“Ma’am, is everything—” he began, but Mayhew interrupted.
“Do not address her thus, unless you wish to be dismissed!” he barked. “You’re under my employ.”
“But sir…”
“Was anything I said unclear?”
The footman colored. “No, sir, but…”
“Timothy, it’s all right,” Jemima said. Her fate was already sealed—it would do no good to have Timothy share it.
“Remove this doxy from my house,” Mayhew said. “Immediately.”
“But my belongings,” Jemima said, “they’re—”
“They’reminenow,” he sneered. “Count yourself fortunate I’m letting you keep the clothes on your back.”
“B-but—where will I go?”
“I care not, as long as I don’t have to see your sniveling face,” he replied. “Footman—must I ask a second time? Get rid of her!”
“Sorry about this, miss,” the footman said as he took Jemima’s wrist.
“The back entrance, if you please,” Mayhew added. “I’ve a reputation to uphold. I don’t want my neighbors thinking this a bawdy house.”
As the footman led Jemima to the door, Mayhew called after them.
“Thomas, I’ve changed my mind.”
Jemima turned to face him, a flicker of hope in her heart.
“Iwilltake tea after all,” he said. “Bring it after you’ve discarded the rubbish.”
A sob swelled in Jemima’s throat as Thomas pushed her out of the parlor.
“Ever so sorry, miss,” he whispered. “But don’t worry, I’ll take you to the kitchen and have Mrs. Riley set you up before you go on your way.”
“I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” he said. “You’ve been good to us, looked after those in need hereabouts. Now it’s our turn to look after you.”
She clung to him as he led her to the stairs that descended toward the kitchen. Another wave of nausea gripped her and a sharp pain sliced through her stomach. She reached for the handrail, but slipped and somersaulted down the stairs. The stone floor at the bottom rushed toward her, then with an explosion of agony in her head, she plunged into oblivion.
Chapter Two
