Page 68 of Doxy for the Ton
Only bitterness—and disgust.
Chapter Sixteen
Alexander gritted histeeth against the urge to push her against the wall and rut the fury out of his body.
Curse her!Even caught in the act of betrayal she refused to bend, instead facing him as if she were not the transgressor.
And, in his weakness, he still desired her.
“You have no need to tell me who—or what—I am, Your Grace,” she said, her voice steady. “I am what you pay me to be.”
“Precisely,” he said. “And if a man isn’t getting what he’s paying for, he has every right to object.”
“What precisely have you paid for that I’ve not provided?” she asked, tilting her head up.
“Exclusivity,” he growled. “A whore may be unfamiliar with the concept, but it is, nevertheless, what you promised.”
“Can you promisemethe same?”
His heart twitched at the undercurrent of hurt in her voice. If she believed he was rutting other women then she was a fool. Other women had lost their appeal for him.
He wanted her.
Onlyher.
But, curse her, she didn’t want him. She only wanted the money she could earn with her body.
“My only promise was to pay you at the end of our agreement,” he said. “But how can you expect me to pay if you’re fucking someone else?”
She flinched, then gestured toward the door. “You’d best come inside.”
“No,” he replied. “Not when you’re inviting half the men of London tocome inside.”
Hurt flared in her eyes. Then she blinked and it was gone. When she next spoke, her words were toneless, as if she were reciting a laundry list.
“I care not whether you come or go,” she said, “but if you remain on my doorstep you risk providing your neighbors with the sort of entertainment that will jeopardize your mission to restore what little reputation you have. If you no longer want my body, then at least take my advice.”
“Which is?” he asked.
“Do not disgrace yourself in front of your peers who”—she glanced about the street, at the white-fronted houses with dark, gaping windows—“who, I suspect, are watching us at this very moment in the hope of securing the latest nugget of gossip to share at Almack’s or White’s.”
Her quiet, calm dignity—and the fact that she spoke the truth—threatened to dissipate his anger. She ascended the steps and knocked on the door. After a suspiciously short time, it opened to reveal the black-clad butler, who looked more like a beetle than ever.Devil’s coachman, Whitcombe had once described his own butler, and Wheeler resembled that long-bodied little creature, raising his sting to defend himself—and, most likely, his mistress—against predators.
“Welcome home, Lady Rex,” the butler said. “I trust you had a pleasant trip?”
“Yes, thank you, Wheeler,” she replied, softening her features into a smile.
Bloody hell—was the butler an accomplice in her infidelity? Why did she gifthimwith her smile?
The butler’s gaze fell on Alexander. “Lady Rex didn’t tell me she was expecting a guest.”
“My apologies, Wheeler,” Mimi said. “Would you be so kind as to have a fire made up in the drawing room, then perhaps a brandy for the duke?”
“Very good, ma’am. And for yourself?”
“Tea,” she said. Then she turned to Alexander. “Your Grace, permit me to freshen myself up. Wheeler will tend to your needs while you wait.”
“I doubtthat,” Alexander said, aware of the petulance in his voice.
