Page 81 of Doxy for the Ton
“The life I led before coming here was a little unconventional,” Mimi said.
“How wonderful! I find convention so restricting, don’t you? What did you do? You must tell me about it!”
Mimi’s heart sank as Portia’s eyes glittered with eagerness. Deception had always been a natural part of her life—it was as natural as breathing to any woman in her profession. But she found herself liking Lady Portia, and disliking the thought of deceiving someone she was beginning to view as a friend.
“Ladies,” a deep voice said, “you must permit me to ask how you managed to fell Miss Francis, thereby saving us from her company.”
A small group of gentlemen had approached, eyeing Mimi with curiosity and, in the case of some, the hunger of the predatory male.
The man who’d spoken bowed and offered his hand, fixing pale-blue eyes on her. “Sir Heath Moss.”
“And the rest of you are?” she asked, ignoring the proffered hand.
He frowned then gestured to the company. “Lord Thorpe—”
“We’ve already been introduced.”
“And the rest are Lord Greyford, Sir Beverley Grant, and”—his mouth curled into a sneer as he gestured toward the young man who’d been following Mimi about earlier—“MisterEdward Drayton, the eldest son of the Duke of Westbury.”
The youth flinched at the address, and his cheeks turned scarlet—almost bright enough to match the shade of Lady Francis’s gown.
Sir Heath gave a smile of triumph, and Mimi gritted her teeth.
You bastard.
Or, rather, he’d just revealed the poor young man’s status as such—how else would the eldest son of a duke be a meremister?
Mimi nodded to each man in turn, then held out her hand to the youth. “Mr. Drayton, a pleasure,” she said. His eyes widened and he stared at her hand. Then he took it and bowed. Rather than withdraw before he could kiss it, she let him lift it to his lips. Their eyes met and she smiled.
His color deepened, and he opened and closed his mouth.
“Mr. Drayton, did you want to say something,” Mimi said, “or, perhaps, ask it?”
The young man shifted his gaze toward Sir Heath, who watched them with contempt in his eyes.
“I-I wondered if you might be engaged for the next dance, Lady Rex,” he said. “But, of course, your card will already be full.”
“I should be delighted, Mr. Drayton,” Mimi said. “I’m not an accomplished dancer. I prefer to listen to music from the comfort of my seat. But I’m happy to make an exception for you.”
His blush deepened.
“Well!” Sir Heath said. “Doubtless customs on the Continent differ to those in London. I rather think—”
“You are fond of music, Lady Rex?” Lord Thorpe interrupted, casting a frown in Sir Heath’s direction.
“Very, though I have few opportunities to enjoy it,” Mimi replied.
“Do you play, Lady Rex? Or perhaps sing?” Lord Greyford asked. “Our hostess would be happy to let you entertain us over supper.”
“Sadly not,” Mimi said. “I lack the aptitude, which is why I envy musicians so much. Not merely for their talent, but because they can take their music with them. It’s always at their fingertips because they can create it for themselves.”
“Very prettily put,” Sir Beverley said. “Do you have any favorite pieces?”
“I’ve always been fond of Bach,” Mimi said, allowing herself to indulge in a memory from her childhood.
“Bach, indeed?” Lord Thorpe said. “My late mother was partial to his works. She said that to master Bach, the musician needed a degree of technical prowess that surpassed all others. Though, to my untrained ear, I find it difficult to distinguish one composer from another.”
“What is it about Bach that you find to admire?” Mr. Drayton asked.
