Page 17 of Doxy for the Ton
Though she might not want to admit it, shecared.
“I never thanked you,” he said.
“What for?”
“For last night—bringing me home. And those two men who accosted me. Did they—”
“They’ll be waking with sorer heads than you this morning.”
“They were big brutes,” he said. “Do you mean to say you…?”
“I don’t expect a pampered man such as yourself to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I’ve learned to defend myself,” she said. “It’s the finest education a doxy can have. I’ve no use for the skills taught by governesses. Your ladies concern themselves with whether their embroidery stitches are neat enough. I concern myself with warding off would-be violators.”
“I didn’t think a whore could be violated,” he said.
It was a cruel riposte, and the pain in her eyes told him that his arrow had hit home.
“Women such as I are violated all the time,” she said. “Men like you use our bodies for your own gratification before returning to your wives—men who cry with pleasure at our touch, then snub us in front of your more respectable friends while you spit on us like we’re the dirt under your polished calfskin boots.”
He caught her hand, and her eyes flared with surprise.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. In fact…”
In fact, I want nothing more than to see you smile—that beautiful smile you gifted me with in your sleep.
How could he say such a thing to her? Most likely she’d laugh at him.
But he could have the next best thing.
“I’d like to make you an offer,” he said. “I want you to be my mistress.”
He stepped back, waiting to see her smile. But instead, she gave a gasp and retreated. Rather than joy in her eyes, he saw fear.
Chapter Five
“Iwant youto be my mistress.”
Mimi’s gut twisted at his words. The need in her body warred with the rational part of her that reminded her of the consequences of the life of a mistress…
The life of a pampered peacock, growing soft, weak, dependent on a man—until she was tossed out on the street with nothing but the dress on her skin.
Never again.
Some prices were not worth paying. But this time, as she looked into his eyes and saw the soul hiding beneath the cold demeanor of the duke…this time, she knew that the stakes were far higher. Not only was her body at risk, but her heart. His cries at dawn had pierced her soul, for they spoke of a tenderness she had only ever seen once before in a man.
It was a tenderness that she had no wish to succumb to again.
Fighting the urge to throw herself into his arms and accept, she shook her head.
“No.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re refusing me?”
“Clearly you’ve not experienced refusal before,” she retorted.
