Page 20 of Doxy for the Ton
“Good,” he said. “That’s very good. A passable effort at the tearful widow. The whole world will believe you if you do that.”
You bastard.
He chuckled. “That I am.”
Heavens—she’d spoken aloud. But his cruelty made it easier to protect her heart. Let him spend his fortune on fancy clothes and jewels, and two thousand guineas at the end for good measure. She would smile when needed, part her thighs when required, then leave London and claim her freedom when their business was concluded.
She might even be able to persuade Mrs. Briggs and her charges to leave London also, for a better life—a life free of the men who believed they owned women like her.
Meeting his gaze, she thrust her hand forward.
“I believe we have a deal, sir.”
He clasped her hand.
“Do you know something?” she said, curling her lip into a sneer.
“What?”
“Had you insisted, I’d have settled for one thousand.”
He chuckled. “And I’d have willingly paid three. You’ve undersold yourself, my dear. It’s a poor whore who cannot read her customer when negotiating the price for her body.”
She withdrew her hand and wiped it on the bedsheet. “Then I congratulate you, Your Grace, on sealing yourself a fine bargain.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I’ll make the arrangements. There’s a house for rent across the square I can set you up in, and I’ll give you details of a modiste I’ve patronized before.”
“Or rather, your mistresses have patronized before.”
“As you say,” he said. “All that remains is to think of a name for you. Mimi La Fleur is hardly the name for a respectable widow. What’s your real name?”
My real name.
Mimi hadn’t heard that name for five years—and she had no intention of hearing it again, least of all on the lips of a gentleman.
“My name—shall be Mrs. Rex,” she said.
“And your first name?”
“You call me Mimi. My real name—like my pleasure, and my heart—is not for sale. Not even for two thousand guineas.”
She flinched as he placed his hand on her cheek. Then he caressed it, and she fought the urge to lean into his touch.
A smile danced in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a challenge, sweet.”
Her skin tightened with apprehension, as if she had just soul her soul to the devil.
Chapter Six
As Alexander cuppedher cheek, her eyes closed, and he caught the almost imperceptible gasp from her lips.
A very different creature lay beneath that hard exterior of hers—a soft heart encased within a steel cage.
Alexander withdrew his hand and regarded the woman he’d just purchased. Naked, save for the cotton bedsheet she’d wrapped around her frame, she resembled a queen, her head held high while she negotiated her price. Had she been born a man, he could imagine her leading others into battle—or running a ducal estate.
What a challenge it would be to penetrate her armor to discover the woman within! Few could look him straight in the eye. But she had met his gaze, boldly, almost contemptuously, as if she were his equal.
Only once had she shied away from him—when he suggested she masquerade as a widow.
