Page 44 of Doxy for the Ton
“If a man is foolish enough to pay over the odds for the goods, then that’s his loss,” she said.
“Or gain,” he replied, “if the gowns are delectable enough. I trust Madame won’t let me down.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said. “Madame Deliet isn’t making my gowns. She refused to serve me.”
“Sherefused?” He shook his head. “That woman would serve anyone if there’s a profit to be had.”
“Evidently notanyone.”
“Well, there goes my reputation if evenshewon’t deal with me,” Alexander said.
She let out a snort. “Yourreputation is intact,” she said. “You’re a fool if you think Society will shun you forever—your title and wealth will win them over no matter how heinous your crimes. Perhaps, when asking yourself why Madame evicted me from her shop, you should consider how Society views awoman, rather than a man.”
“What did you say to her about me?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Defiance flashed in her eyes, and a fizz of need went straight to his groin. He pulled her close and parted his lips for a kiss, but she withdrew and approached the fireplace.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Ringing the bell for tea.”
“I didn’t come here totake tea.”
She stiffened, then turned to face him, and cold fingers clenched at his stomach at the darkness in her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the bulge in his breeches.
“Where do you want me?” she asked.
“In the bedroom.”
“Very well.”
She crossed the floor, stopping to retrieve a ribbon from the floor, then stood before him, the slight tremor in her body the only evidence of emotion.
“Would you like your whore naked, my lord—or would you prefer to strip her yourself?”
A sharp intake of breath came from the doorway, and Alexander turned to see the butler, together with a footman who looked barely old enough to be out of leading strings. The footman blushed scarlet, while the butler merely arched an eyebrow.
Alexander opened his mouth to reply, but shame tightened his throat—shame at being overheard, and at having exposed her to the contempt of her servants.
“Struggling to choose, Your Grace?” she sneered. “Then let me surprise you. But next time you must tell me what you prefer. I’m anxious to earn my fee.”
Her head held high as if she were the duchess and he the basest creature on earth, she swept past him. The servants parted to let her through the doorway.
“Ma’am, if there’s anything you need…” the butler began.
“No thank you, Wheeler. I can see to myself. Please tend to His Grace. Give him anything he requires before he”—her voice wavered—“visits me upstairs.”
She exited the parlor, leaving Alexander with the two servants.
“Fetch me a brandy,” he said.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the footman replied, but the butler placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder.
“No, Charles,” he said, meeting Alexander’s gaze. “I’lldo it.”
This time there was no mistaking the butler’s disdain, or to whom it was directed.
