Page 65 of Doxy for the Ton
Her gut twisted with shame, even though she hadn’t spoken his name aloud. What might it be like to cry out his name as he cried out hers?
But his name was denied her. As was her pleasure at his touch. Her release at her own hand was all she could risk—to relieve the ache in her bones.
She denied them both—his name, and her pleasure—for the safety of her soul.
But she couldn’t help imagine what it might be like to have his mouth claim hers, his tongue slip between—
“Mimi!”
She startled and glanced up from her mending to see Mrs. Briggs and her companions—Anna and Mary—staring at her.
“I beg pardon?” Mimi asked.
Mrs. Briggs shook her head. “You were gone from us just then, darlin’. Anything troublin’ you? You don’t seem yourself today.”
“N-no, I’m just struggling a little with this mending.”
Mrs. Briggs narrowed her eyes as the lie hung heavy in the air. Then she nodded.
“Anna, darlin’, could you see to the tea? Don’t forget the cake Mimi brought—we’ve all earned a slice with our work this morning. Mary, look in on Lily and her little ’un to see if they’d like to join us.”
“But Mrs. Briggs,” Mary began, “Lily’s still very—”
“Do as ye’re told. I’m sure young Sam would like some cake.”
The two young women set their mending aside and exited the room, then Mrs. Briggs leaned forward.
“You can be honest with me now, Mimi darlin’. Tell me about him.”
There was little point asking to whom she was referring.
“There’s little to tell,” Mimi said. “He’s paying me a stipend until next summer, then we’ll part company.”
The other woman let out a sharp sigh. “I didn’t mean your agreement. Tell me about the man.”
“He has a title,” Mimi said. “And wealth.”
“There’s something more,” Mrs. Briggs said. “Is he kind?”
Mimi paused. Outwardly Alexander was not kind—neither, from what she had seen, was he particularly liked for himself. At most times he wore the soulless expression of yet another man who believed she belonged to him because he paid for her services. Yet, on occasion, she glimpsed something more—a vulnerability he was afraid to reveal. When he claimed her body, she sensed a need greater than mere physical gratification. She saw a soul—alone and isolated—yearning to be touched, calling to her…
Mrs. Briggs sighed. “Oh, darlin’, don’t fall for it.”
“Fall for what?” Mimi asked.
“The little lost boy act. You’re experienced enough in our world to know that all men are children at heart—longing for attention, indulging in their tempers if they can’t get their way, and tossing their playthings aside when they’ve no further use for them. Don’t become his plaything, Mimi. It will destroy you.Hewill destroy you.”
“You don’t know him, Mrs. Briggs.”
“Aye, and if you’re falling under his spell I’ve no wish to meet him, unless it’s to thicken his ear.”
“I’m not falling under his spell.”
Mrs. Briggs folded her arms in the manner of a governess about to lecture her stubborn pupil. “You haven’t kissed him, have you?”
“No!” Mimi said. “I-I’ve not kissed any man since…since I first took to the streets. I understand the danger.”
“Make sure you do, darlin’.” Mrs. Briggs took Mimi’s hand. “I only speak out of fondness for you. You never want to be dependent on a man, do you?”
