Page 113 of Doxy for the Ton
Mimi reached for the potato and began to slice it.
“It takes a certain kind of man to weather the insults of those he deems beneath them,” Mrs. Briggs said. “But I suppose that’s the great leveler—more so than liquor.”
“What is?” Mimi asked.
“Love,” came the reply. “The greatest leveler of all. He must love you a great deal.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
By the timethey returned to Grosvenor Square, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and streaks of red stretched across the sky.
Mimi leaned against Alexander, relishing the solidity of his body, despite the odor of coal dust that clung to him. He hadn’t complained once during the day—not even when Mrs. Briggs ordered him to clear up after supper.
In fact, he’d been the epitome of charm. Not the gallantry that a suitor employed to court an unsuspecting debutante, nor the false declarations of chivalry that a rake adopted to debauch an innocent—but genuine kindness, born of a desire to improve the lives of others.
Even Lily had warmed to Alexander, venturing to exchange a few words with him while she handed the potatoes around. As for Sam, by the end of the evening, the little boy’s expression of admiration as he looked at Alexander had turned into one of adoration.
Today, Mimi had seen a different man—someone who weathered Mrs. Briggs’s orders, entertained a small boy, and even had the insight to notice Lily’s wariness and treat her with gentleness and compassion.
That man presented a very real danger of capturing her soul—and she was in danger of willingly giving it to him.
Clinging to his arm, Mimi ascended the steps. The butler waited at the top, his forehead creased into a frown.
“Ma’am, we were wondering when you’d be home.” He glanced at Alexander and arched a dark brow.
“I think, Wheeler, a bath is in order,” Mimi said after they’d entered the hallway. “In my dressing room, please.”
“Will His Grace be staying?”
A plea shone in Alexander’s eyes—not a demand to stay, nor a bid to claim her body…
But a plea, from his heart, not to be hurt.
“Yes,” she whispered. “He’ll be staying.”
“Very good, ma’am.” The butler bowed then strode across the hallway, calling for Charles and Mrs. Hodge.
Alexander placed a hand on Mimi’s cheek. “MayI stay?” he whispered. “I will, but only if you wish it.”
“Of course,” she replied, smiling. “We must get you clean, at least. Your poor valet thinks badly enough of me as it is—he’d have a fit of apoplexy if I sent you home covered in coal dust and—”
“Don’t speak of it!” He laughed. “I’ve never done anything so disgusting as clean out those chamber pots. I’ll look at chambermaids differently from now on. Women with stomachs as strong as oxen. I salute them.”
“And the women at Mrs. Briggs’s house?”
“I admire them also, but none more than you.”
She held out her hand. Smiling, he took it, and she led him upstairs. He approached the door leading to the bedchamber they usually shared and turned the handle.
“No,” she said.
He turned to face her, sorrow clouding his expression. “You want me to go?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to sleep there tonight.” She gestured to her bedchamber—the chamber she had vowed never to share.
Hope ignited in his eyes.
“But first,” she said, “methinks the duke needs a bath.”
