Page 135 of Doxy for the Ton
And she had not cut his skin once.
No, the wound she’d inflicted was far deeper—a knife lodged in the core of his soul.
He remained still while the butler ran the razor across his skin, then inhaled sharply as the blade nicked his throat.
The butler muttered an apology, and Alexander caught the familiar odor of tincture before a cloth was dabbed against his throat. He winced at the bite of soreness.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. It’ll heal quickly.”
“No matter, Wheeler,” Alexander said. “It’s a good day when my valet nicks the skin less than three times.”
“And Lady Rex?”
Alexander stood and gestured toward the pile of clothes on the bed.
“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler said, an undertone of compassion in his voice, as if he understood that when it came to shaving a man—and many other such tasks—Mimi surpassed them all.
“Charles?” the butler said, and the footman approached Alexander and begun to undress him. “No—not like that!” Wheeler snapped as the footman tugged at Alexander’s cravat. “Let me show you.”
The butler deftly undid the knot and placed the cravat on the chair Alexander had vacated. Then, with Wheeler issuing orders, the two men undressed Alexander until he stood before them as naked as the day he was born.
The last time he’d stood naked in this room, Mimi had kneeled before him and…
Stop it!
He closed his eyes and drew in sharp breath to dispel the surge in his groin at the memory.
Memories—bloody memories. That was all he had of her, now, a memory to fist his length to at night.
“Ahem.”
Alexander opened his eyes to see the butler eyeing him with disapproval.
“Proceed,” he said, not daring to lower his gaze.
The butler arched an eyebrow, then reached for his breeches.
“On the other hand, perhaps I’ll dress myself.”
“Your Grace, are you sure?”
Alexander nodded. “I know what goes where.”
“And your cravat? Your style is somewhat intricate.”
“I…learned how to tie it myself.”
“Or perhaps you were taught by another.”
“Yes, Lady—” Alexander broke off, his throat tightening.
“Charles, clear away the tea things,” Wheeler said. “I’ll see to His Grace from now on.”
“Yes, Mr. Wheeler.”
After the footman had gone, the butler handed Alexander the rest of his clothes, and watched in silence while he dressed himself in front of the mirror, finishing with his cravat.
“A passable effort, if I may say so, Your Grace.” Wheeler stepped forward to smooth the knot and tuck the cravat into Alexander’s waistcoat. “She taught you well.”
