Page 54 of Doxy for the Ton
But everyone in the room—including Mimi herself—had sustained some injury or other at the hands of a man who either refused to pay, or who took pleasure from her pain.
Which was why it was imperative that Mimi’s plan worked. These women deserved a better life. In fact,allwomen deserved a better life, but if she couldn’t help every woman in England, she could at least help the women who occupied this little corner of London that had once been her sanctuary after she had lost everything.
Chapter Fourteen
At last—the dayhad come.
Alexander suppressed the pulse of excitement in his body as he knocked on the door of number 16 Grosvenor Square.
Her gowns, all bought and paid for, now awaited his viewing pleasure—and London Society.
How might she look in a lady’s attire?
The butler opened the door, the usual expression of disdain on his face.
“Is she at home, Wheeler?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
The butler stepped aside, and Alexander entered the hallway.
“Please wait in the parlor. The mistress will be down directly.”
“Isn’t she waiting in the parlor?”
Wheeler arched an eyebrow, then held out his hand. “Do you have your card, sir?”
Of course!If Mimi were to maintain the pretense that she was the respectable Lady Rex, as opposed to his doxy, then he must play a part also. A respectable widow wouldn’t be sitting waiting at her window, ready to spring into life at the first sight of him.
He fished a card out of his pocket and handed it over. “Tell your mistress that I’m come to take her for a promenade.”
“Very good. I shall see if she’s receiving visitors.”
There was no mistaking the sneer in the butler’s tone. Wheeler knew—as every servant in the house knew—that Mimi was being paid toreceivehim…in every sense of the word.
Then Alexander checked himself. He really was a complete and utter arse. He ought to at least treat her as a duke would treat the widow of an old friend—even if she were warming his bed.
His manhood stirred at the prospect of visiting her chamber later, and he entered the parlor with a cockstand that needed to be eased before he could be seen in public.
Shortly after, he heard footsteps. The parlor door opened and Alexander caught his breath.
Before him stood what could only be described as a goddess.
Her gown was the color of claret, warm and intoxicating. Her skirts concealed her form, falling from a high waistline in smooth ripples. The matching redingote was fashioned from what looked like thick velvet, trimmed in a military fashion.
Her hair was swept up into an elegant chignon that might have looked severe and uncompromising on some, but the delicate wisps of hair curling about her face softened the look.
Sweet rutting heaven—he’d never seen a sight so lovely.
The urge to claim her threatened to break his resolve. He only need dismiss the butler, then he could pull her to the hearthrug, lift those skirts, and bury himself inside her.
Then he met her gaze. Rather than the hardened doxy, her expression was that of an innocent—a young woman anticipating a promenade in the park with her suitor. She lowered her gaze, and the faint bloom on her cheeks stirred his heart as much as the thought of that delectable body stirred his manhood.
Wheeler cleared his throat, and Alexander looked away, swallowing his shame. She was the mistress of the house, and he was staring open-mouthed with a cockstand the size of a longboat in his breeches, like a pimply adolescent ready to spend at the first sight of a pretty girl.
She might be his to own—for the next few months, at least—but he owed her more thanthat.
“Your Grace,” she said, her gaze flicking toward the butler.
