Page 104 of Doxy for the Ton
“That’s enough of that, young man,” Alexander said, pulling Mimi close and placing a possessive hand on the small of her back. “Shall I take you home?” he asked.
She cast a quick glance in the direction in which Thorpe had gone, and nodded. Then, after they took their leave, Alexander escorted her outside and into his carriage.
The ride back to Grosvenor Square took place in silence. Mimi sat opposite Alexander, focusing her gaze on the window, her eyes wide as if she expected a demon to leap through the glass at any moment. When the carriage rolled to a halt outside number sixteen, they climbed out and he escorted her up the steps. The butler opened the door.
“Welcome home, ma’am. I trust you had a pleasant evening.”
“Very much so, Wheeler, thank you,” she said.
Alexander followed her inside, helped her with her cloak, and handed it to the butler.
“Some tea for me, please, Wheeler,” she said. “And a brandy for His Grace.”
The butler bowed and disappeared into the back of the house, while Mimi strode across the hallway and into the parlor, where a fire was already blazing.
“There was no need to ask your butler to bring me a brandy,” Alexander said.
“I assumed you’d want one before retiring.” She approached the fireplace, plucked a poker from the rack, and began jabbing at the base. The flames flared, illuminating her face with an orange glow, and Alexander’s heart ached at the sorrow in her eyes.
“Did you enjoy the evening?” he asked.
“I enjoyed the music. Duchess Westbury and Lady Radham are very accomplished.”
“There’s no need to exchange pleasantries with me, Mimi. You can trust me with the truth.”
She poked the fire again. “I asked Charles to make sure that the fire in the bedchamber was lit tonight.”
“Inyourbedchamber?” he asked.
“No—the other one. We can retire there as soon as you’ve had your brandy.”
Guilt gnawed at him at the matter-of-fact way she spoke—as if she’d resigned herself to having to service his physical needs.
But he no longer wanted her to perform a physical service. He wanted her towanthim, to take pleasure from being in his bed…
…and to love him.
“Perhaps I should go,” he said.
She turned. “Do you no longer enjoy what you’ve paid for?”
“Mimi, tonight has shown me that I want to spend time with you in places other than the bedroom.”
“Such as over the table? Or…over this?” She gestured toward the chaise longue on which he’d taken her with such vigor that he thought it might collapse under the weight of his frenzied thrusting. His cheeks warmed with shame at the pleasure he’d taken from the act. “Or perhaps up against the wall?” she continued, her voice tightening. “There’s always the garden. For some, the pleasure of rutting outdoors can be most—”
“Stop!” he cried. “You misunderstand me. Can’t you see I want more than just sexual gratification?”
As he spoke, the young footman appeared, and he almost dropped the tray he carried. Alexander rushed toward him and grasped the tray, but a teacup rolled off and shattered on the floor.
“Beg pardon, ma’am!” the footman cried, his face going as red as fire.
“It matters not, Charles,” Alexander said. “I’ll clear it up. After all, it’s a mess of my making.”
The footman fled, closing the door behind him. Alexander set the tray on a table and picked up the shards of porcelain. Then he met Mimi’s gaze, and his heart ached at the pain in her eyes. But he knew not how to ease it. Something had shattered her peace tonight—but he had no right to ask her what, if she couldn’t bring herself to trust him.
“Mimi, didn’t tonight show you that there’s more to what we have than…”
“Sex?”
