Page 22 of Doxy for the Ton (Misfits of the Ton #7)

“H e’s arrived, Lady Rex.”

Mimi glanced at her maid, who stood at the parlor window.

“Really, Gracie? I didn’t think he had the tenacity.”

“We’re at our most tenacious when we’re in love, ma’am. Shall I ask Charles to admit him?”

Mimi nodded, and Gracie exited the parlor as the clock over the fireplace struck six times.

Shortly after, the parlor door opened.

Mimi’s heart tightened as her gaze fell on the man standing beside Charles in the doorway, wiping the drowsiness from his eyes. He stifled a yawn, then covered his mouth with his hand and a faint blush colored his cheeks.

“Forgive me, Mimi,” Alexander said. “I’ve not seen the world at this hour before.”

She returned his smile. “You astonish me, Your Grace,” she said. “I’d have thought you familiar with this hour, given your propensity to indulge in parties throughout the night.”

His smile disappeared, and Mimi caught a flash of sorrow in his gaze—sorrow that tore at her heart. She approached him and offered her hand, and he took it.

“Forgive me, Alexander. I forgot about your friend, Robert Staines. I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened at her use of his name. Then his smile returned.

“I am ready to be of service today,” he said.

Mimi cast her gaze over his clothes. “Your Grace, you can hardly expect me to take you to Mrs. Briggs dressed like that .”

“What’s wrong with my attire?” he asked. “My valet had to rise even earlier than I this morning.”

“He dressed you like a duke.”

“I am a duke.”

“You’ll not last five minutes near the docks. You’ll be a duke-shaped beacon announcing to the world, ‘Rob me, please, and there’ll be pickings for all.’”

“I’ll be wearing my coat.”

“Trust me, ruffians on the street can smell a duke at a hundred paces,” Mimi said. “Don’t you recall the night we met?”

“Oh yes,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “I recall every delicious minute of that night.”

“You’ll have to change,” Mimi said. “Charles, would you see if we have anything? A jacket and boots—breeches if you can find any. And a coat. Nothing too…elegant.”

The footman nodded and disappeared, returning shortly after with a pile of clothes in his arms.

Mimi suppressed a laugh at the expression on Alexander’s face.

“You expect me to wear those ?” he said.

“I’m giving you a choice,” she replied. “Stand out in your gentleman’s garb, or blend into the background and preserve the safety of your person.” She approached the door. “Charles and I will give you privacy.”

Charles held up the garments—a ragged undershirt together with a plain cotton overshirt, a necktie, and a pair of breeches fraying at the knees with a matching jacket and overcoat.

“These are all I could find that might fit the duke, Lady Rex,” he said.

Alexander stared at the garments. “I-I’m afraid I don’t…” He hesitated, his forehead creasing into a frown.

“Don’t what?” Mimi asked. “Don’t like them? Don’t think they’re good enough for you?”

“I-I don’t know how to put them on.”

“You don’t know how to—” Mimi broke off, suppressing laughter. “Shall I send Charles across the road to fetch your valet?”

His eyes filled with humiliation. Ashamed at her gentle teasing, Mimi gestured to the footman.

“Charles, place the garments on the table, then you may take your breakfast.”

The footman bowed and disappeared.

Alexander removed his jacket and waistcoat, then reached for his cravat.

“Damnation!” he muttered, tugging at the ends.

“Let me,” Mimi said. “You’re tightening the knot.” Her hand brushed against his as she reached for the cravat, and she drew in a sharp breath at the fizz of need that rippled across her skin. She glanced up to see him staring at her, his eyes dark with desire. He curled his fingers around hers, then released her hand and stood, meekly, while she loosened the knot, removed his cravat, and placed it on the table.

He fell silent, his gaze focused on her while she removed the rest of his garments. The only sound inside the parlor was the steady tick of the mantel clock, punctuated by the occasional hitch in his breath as her hands came into contact with his body while she tugged at his laces and undid his buttons. When she reached for his breeches, she glanced up to see him staring at her, his eyes wide with anticipation. Then she undid his breeches and pulled them down, letting them bunch on the floor while he stepped forward.

Silently, she dressed him, letting her hands follow the contours of his body while she smoothed each garment before picking up the next. As she buttoned his shirt, she succumbed to the temptation to feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers and placed her hand on his chest, relishing his warmth on her skin. When she picked up the necktie, he dipped his head and closed his eyes, and his breath caressed the skin of her hands while she reached around his neck and knotted the tie. Unable to resist, she ran a light fingertip along the back of his neck, and a low growl escaped his lips.

“Mimi…”

How could such an act—the simple service of dressing a man—be so intimate ?

After securing the knot, she tucked the ends of the necktie into his shirt, then stood back to admire her handiwork.

“Thank you, Mimi,” he whispered, his voice heavy with desire.

“You’re welcome…Alexander.”

She reached toward his chest, unable to suppress the desire to feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers once more. Then he drew her to him and lowered his mouth to hers.

Desire flared within her, and she melted into his embrace, letting his lips slide over hers. His tongue probed, gently at first, then more insistent at the seam of her lips. When she parted them, he slipped inside, teasing, stroking. He tasted of spice, smoke, and raw, primal need—an intoxicating liquor that promised to satisfy every unmet need that she had denied herself…

Pleasure—and love.

With a whimper, she surrendered and responded to the kiss, inviting him to claim her. His body vibrated with a growl of raw, primal desire, and he pulled her against him, his body hard and ready. The heady scent of male potency and female desire filled her senses as he deepened the kiss, as if one taste of her could never be enough—as if he wanted to consume her, devour her…

What the devil am I doing?

Mimi broke the kiss and drew back, shaking.

By letting him kiss her, she had taken herself to the edge of the abyss. And in responding, she had almost plunged over the precipice.

Her heart racing, Mimi lifted her gaze to his, anticipating his disappointment—anger, even.

But all she saw was resignation, as if he understood he’d breached her trust. Then he lifted his hand and, with a light fingertip, traced the outline of her face.

“Shall we go?” he whispered. “I’m eager to meet your friend—Mrs. Briggs, is it?”

She nodded and placed her hand over his, and he smiled. Then he reached for the overcoat and put it on.

“At least I’m capable of donning a coat, if little else.”

“You could achieve much more if you employed your mind appropriately, Alexander.”

“I’m in your hands, Mimi.”

They exited the parlor to find the footman waiting by the door.

“Take care, Lady Rex,” he said.

“You can leave your mistress’s care to me, Charles,” Alexander said, taking Mimi’s arm and linking it through his.

“Make sure that you do.”

Charles’s eyes widened, as if he regretted the words as soon as he’d uttered them. By right, Alexander’s rank could demand the footman’s dismissal at such impertinence, but instead he laughed.

“Your loyalty to your mistress does you credit, young man,” he said. “I’ll take your warning with the seriousness it commands, and assure you that there are none so committed as I when it comes to Lady Rex’s welfare.”

Charles nodded, then the two of them exited the building.

The journey to Mrs. Briggs’s establishment was uneventful. They picked up a hackney carriage almost as soon as they left Grosvenor Square, and the driver, other than a cursory look, paid them little attention. Perhaps he thought they were a footman and maid running an early morning errand. Or maybe an eloping couple, given how Alexander refused to let go of Mimi’s hand for the whole journey.

After they climbed out, the driver tipped his cap, then, with a crack of his whip, set off and disappeared. The first strains of dawn light were bleeding into the sky—cold, gray threading through the inky blackness. Voices echoed along the street, cursing and yelling, accompanied by the splash of water as residents emptied their chamber pots into the street. Carts rattled as coalmen made their deliveries.

London—or this insalubrious little part of it, at least—was waking up.

Before Mimi could knock on Mrs. Briggs’s door, it opened to reveal the woman herself.

“Mimi darlin’, I didn’t expect you so early.”

“It’s my usual time,” Mimi said.

“But you’ve brought your young man this time.” Mrs. Briggs cocked her head to one side and cast her sharp glance up and down Alexander’s body. “And who might you be?”

“I’m…Mr. Sawbridge.”

“ Mr. Sawbridge?” Mrs. Briggs folded her arms. “I suppose it’s as good a name as any.”

“It is my name.”

“It’s all the same to me, Mr. Sawbridge, but I’ll not take kindly to deception in my establishment. Trust is a privilege—and it’s not given lightly here.”

“Then I shall consider myself privileged if you’re kind enough to admit me.”

Mrs. Briggs gave a wry smile. “He makes a pretty speech, Mimi darlin’, I’ll give ’im that. So what are you then, sir? For I doubt you’re a plain mister, for all that you’re dressed like one of us. You a lord or something?”

“I’m a duke. But I’ve not come here today as a duke. I’ve come here as Mimi’s…” He hesitated.

“Mimi’s what ?” Mrs. Briggs asked. “Admirer? Benefactor?” She let out a laugh. “ Protector? ”

“Mrs. Briggs, you promised to be kind,” Mimi said.

“Just so long as he’s kind to you , darlin’.” Mrs. Briggs unfolded her arms and poked Alexander in the chest. “It was one of your sort who destroyed our Mimi’s life and tossed her out on the street. Mind you”—she took Mimi’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze—“she couldn’t find better friends round here than the likes of us. We love her.”

She released Mimi’s hand and gestured back into the hallway.

“Well? What’s with the dawdling? Are you comin’ in or not? There’s much to do today, what with the coal delivery, that I can’t be spending time gossipin’ on my doorstep. We work for a living here, Mr. Sawbridge.”

Alexander grimaced at her sharp tone, and Mimi suppressed a smile. Then he nodded. “I’m here to work, Mrs. Briggs. That’s why Mimi brought me.”

Mrs. Briggs grunted. “I doubt you’ve seen a day’s work in your life—not with those baby-smooth hands of yours. Mind you, we can do somethin’ about that. There’s four bags of coal needing shiftin’, and I can’t do it all myself. A good, strong man is what I need, though I’m loath to say it.”

“In the absence of a good, strong man, will I suffice?” Alexander asked.

Mrs. Briggs let out a low chuckle. “I suppose when there’s nothin’ better, I could settle for you. Well? Stop your dawdling and come inside—I’ve not got all day. There’s a pile of mendin’, and the chamber pots to clean, and I’ve only got one pair of hands.”

She ushered them into the dark, windowless hallway.

“Ouch!” Alexander cried.

“Are you all right?” Mimi asked.

“I caught my toe on something—a table, I think.”

Mrs. Briggs’s snort cut through the darkness. “I’m not made of money—I can’t afford candles in every room. A good dose of work will take your mind off a sore toe. There’s folk in here who’ve endured far worse. Follow me.”

Mrs. Briggs led them to the back of the house and down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Tea, I think,” she said. “There’s a pot on the boil.”

“I’ll make it,” Mimi said. She crossed the floor to the store cupboard and set out the tea things while Mrs. Briggs busied herself with scrubbing a pile of carrots at the sink.

“I’ve got a nice bit of pork if you’re stopping for supper later,” she said.

Alexander stood in the center of the kitchen, discomfort in his eyes. Perhaps he’d never entered a kitchen before—or any room below stairs.

“What can I do?” he asked.

Mrs. Briggs let out a huff. “Can’t you find something to do? I can’t be spending my time looking around for something to keep the idle occupied. Men! You’re useless, the lot of you. And gentlemen are the worst. Didn’t you hear me say there’s them bags of coal needin’ shifting? You can carry them to the store first, then fill the scuttles and take them to the bedchambers. But don’t go in the bedchambers, mind. The last thing my girls want to see when they wake is your face gawping at them.”

“Why, because I’m a duke?”

“No, because you’re a man . Some of the women here service men just like you to make a living, but they’re not always kind—often give a girl a blackened eye, they do.”

His forehead creased into a frown. “It’s a cruel world that does that to a woman.”

Mrs. Briggs snorted. “It’s a man’s world, that’s what it is. But our Mimi here is doing all she can to help us—though I can’t think what she was doing bringing you here if you’re not going to do what I tell you.”

He opened his mouth, and Mimi braced herself for an angry retort. Then he sighed and nodded.

“Very well.”

“That’s better,” Mrs. Briggs said. She gestured toward the back door. “The coal’s out there. Scullery’s round the back. You’ll need to tip the coal out of the sacks and into the store. There’s a shovel by the door if you need it—if you don’t want to dirty those soft baby hands of yours. Can you manage that , at least?”

“Of course I can,” he retorted. “What do you take me for, Mrs. Briggs?”

“I doubt you’d appreciate my answer,” she replied, gesturing toward the door. “Now, get on with it—or the day will be over and you’ll still be standing there having not done a lick of work. Mimi, darlin’ when you’ve put the tea to brew, take it to the parlor, then we can set to the mending.”

Alexander met Mimi’s gaze. She smiled encouragement, and he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and exited through the back door. Soon afterward, he returned, dragging a sack, straining with the weight.

“Mind my floor!” Mrs. Briggs barked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice tight.

Mrs. Briggs chuckled. “Good to see you know your place—in here, at least. Hurry up—you’re letting the cold in with that door.”

He rolled his eyes, but continued to drag the sack into the scullery. Then Mimi heard the sounds of shoveling and grunting, followed by a curse.

“The tea should be ready now,” Mrs. Briggs said. “There’s the remains of a fruitcake in the cupboard if you want to set it on a plate.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “It’s time Anna and Lily were up. I’ll go and wake them, and they can have tea with us.”

“What about our guest?” Mimi asked, gesturing toward the scullery as another curse rang out.

“He must earn his tea.”

“I meant, he might need help. After all, he’s not done a day’s work in his life.”

“Then it’s time he learned, Mimi darlin’. A bleedin’ good dose of hard work never harmed no man. Now, run along to the parlor with that tray, or the tea will get cold.”

Mimi took the tray and climbed the staircase just as another curse echoed from the scullery.

“Dam-bloody-nation!”

Then the scrape of the shovel against the stone floor continued and Mimi exited the kitchen, followed by Mrs. Briggs, who climbed the stairs to the top floor.

By the time Mimi had poured the tea, some of the occupants of the house had entered the parlor. Dawn had long since broken, and sunlight filled the room. The women had set to mending a pile of bedsheets that a benefactor had dropped by, and the air was filled with the chatter of women at work. When the door opened to reveal Lily and her son, Mimi’s heart lifted to see the young woman’s face break into a smile.

“Mimi! I’m glad you’re here. Look who’s come to see us, Sam.”

The little boy toddled across the floor, arms outstretched, and Mimi lifted him onto her lap.

“What’s that you have there, Lily?” she asked, gesturing to the pile of clothing in Lily’s arms.

“It’s a gown I’m finishing for Mrs. Painter.” She smiled at Mimi expectantly.

“Mrs. Painter?”

“Her cousin’s your housekeeper.”

“You mean Peg?” Mimi asked.

“That’s right. She said her cousin told her how I could do lacework, and she offered to give me work. This is the third dress I’ve made up for her—it’s for a merchant’s wife in the City. Imagine that!”

“That’s kind of her,” Mimi said.

“I’ve you to thank,” Lily replied. “Sammy and I are ever so grateful, aren’t we, Sammy love?”

Mimi bounced the child on her lap, and he reached for a lock of her hair, curling his little pink fist over it.

“Is Mary joining us?” Mimi asked.

“Mary’s out with a…customer,” Mrs. Briggs said. “She’ll be home soon. He’s giving her an extra sovereign for staying until dawn. Imagine that, girls! We can have a goose this Christmas.”

“Is Mary safe?” Mimi asked.

“Of course she is, darlin’. It’s that old widower who wanted to marry her. He’s kind enough, and pays her well for her time.”

“Come sit beside me, Sam,” Lily said as she took the seat beside the window. “You can sort out these ribbons if you like.”

“Ribbons!” the boy cried, and he slid off Mimi’s lap and toddled toward his mother.

Mimi returned to her work, and the gentle buzz of conversation filled the room.

Then heavy footsteps approached and the room fell silent. Lily looked up, her eyes widening, then set her work down and drew her son close.

The door opened and Lily let out a scream.

Standing in the doorway, his body filling the space, was a man.

Or what looked like a man.

His jacket and shirt were smeared with dust. One leg of his breeches was adorned with a black handprint, and the other sported a tear just below the knee. His hair was tousled, framing his face. His cheeks and forehead were blackened with coal dust, against which his eyes shone whitely.

With his wide-eyed expression of bewilderment, he looked like a chimney sweep on his first day.

He stepped into the room, leaving a trail of footprints. Then he brushed his jacket and a cloud of coal dust filled the air before settling on the rug.

Mrs. Briggs rose to her feet then lowered her gaze to the dust on the rug. Then she folded her arms, and cocked her head, and glared at him in the manner of an enraged nanny.

Mimi fought the urge to laugh at his stricken expression.

Sam wriggled out of his mother’s embrace and approached Alexander, tilting his head to look up at him.

“You’re all dirty!” he squealed with delight. “Mama—he’s so dirty !”

Lily rose to her feet, fear in her eyes. “S-Sammy…”

Alexander met Mimi’s gaze before he looked down at the little boy.

“Why are you so dirty?” Sam asked. “Are you here to sweep the chimney?”

Mimi held her breath as Alexander stared at the child. Then he swooped down and lifted the boy into the air, before lowering him.

“Again!” Sam cried.

Alexander lifted the boy higher and spun him around.

“Sammy!” Lily screamed.

Alexander lowered the boy and held him in his arms. “Forgive me, madam—is this your son?” he asked. “Here, take him.”

Lily took a step back, trembling. “I-I…” She glanced about the room, as if searching for an escape, but Alexander stood in front of the doorway. He glanced behind, then gave a slight nod and crossed the room to the chair furthest from Lily, then he set Sam down.

“Go to your mama, sir,” he said.

“I want to sit with you .”

“Sammy darlin’, your ma needs you,” Mrs. Briggs said. “Didn’t you promise to look after your ma after what happened to her?”

Alexander glanced at Mimi and raised his eyebrows in question. She shook her head, and understanding filled his expression. Then he fished into his breeches pocket, pulled out a coin, and handed it to the boy.

“There you go, sir,” he said. “Share that with your mother, mind.”

The boy curled his fingers around the coin, then ran toward Lily, who lifted him onto her lap.

Alexander gestured to the chair. “May I take tea, Mrs. Briggs?”

“Have you finished with the coal?”

“Of course.”

“There’s the chamber pots next,” Mrs. Briggs said, “but I suppose you could take your tea now, provided none of the girls have any objection. Lily, what do you say?”

Lily colored but didn’t respond.

“Let him stay, Ma!” Sam cried, and Lily sighed.

“Very well.” She picked up her work and resumed stitching the gown, but she was tense and cast the occasional glance toward Alexander.

Anna rose and approached the tea tray. “How do you take your tea, sir?”

Alexander glanced at the tea things, then his gaze flicked to Lily before it settled on Mimi. He shook his head.

“Perhaps I should see to those chamber pots first. Mrs. Briggs, I take it the chambers are unoccupied? I wouldn’t want to frighten anyone.”

His gaze settled on Lily, who continued stitching. She glanced up, and their gazes met for a moment before she resumed her work.

“Yes, the chambers are clear,” Mrs. Briggs replied.

“I could clean the fireplaces,” he said. “But I can’t lay a fire, I’m afraid.”

“That’s disappointing,” Mrs. Briggs said, the sparkle in her eyes belying her harsh tone. “But it’ll have to do. Scrub those pots properly, mind. They stink somethin’ dreadful if they’re not rinsed out fully. They should always be scrubbed by hand. There’s a brush in the scullery you can use. With the brown handle. You can’t mistake it—it stinks worse than my grandma’s drawers.”

His eyes widened with horror.

“Empty the pots into the ditch first before you rinse them,” Mrs. Briggs said. “When you’ve finished that, you can have your tea, provided you wash your hands. If you do it properly, we’ll save you a slice of cake. What do you think, girls? Shall we save him a slice?”

“Yes.”

The room’s occupants all looked at Lily, who’d spoken. Then she blushed and resumed her attention on her work.

Alexander inclined his head in a bow, then exited the parlor.

Mrs. Briggs’s face creased as if she fought to maintain her composure. Then she threw back her head and laughed.

“Mrs. Briggs!” Mimi said. “You mustn’t tease him—he’s unused to it.”

“Then it’s time he grew used to it, darlin’. Oh, the look on his face when I told him to scrub the chamber pots by hand! I never thought I’d see a duke getting his hands dirty.”

“A duke ?” one of the women asked.

“That’s Mimi’s young man, Biddy,” Anna said. “Isn’t that right, Mimi?”

“Is he your suitor?”

Mimi shook her head. “No, Biddy. He’s…a friend.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a friend like that,” Anna said. “Right handsome, he was. I think—”

“Anna, why don’t you get on with your work rather than rattling on? You don’t want to be called a gossip.”

“No, Mrs. Briggs.”

By the time they’d finished their tea, there was no sign of Alexander. Mimi rose to clear the tea things and then took the tray to the kitchen. She heard a noise in the scullery and came upon Alexander, swilling out four porcelain pots, his face a greenish hue.

“Are you all right?”

He glanced up. “I’m better for seeing you ,” he said. “I saved the worst pot for last, and thought I was going to lose my breakfast.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Mimi said.

“Ah, but I do ,” he replied. “I said I wanted to learn about your life. Unless you’ve never had to rinse out a chamber pot.”

“I’ve cleaned plenty in my time,” she said. “Those very pots, in fact.”

“Then I cannot refuse to do it.”

“Why, because you wish to prove that a man can do anything a woman can?”

“No,” he said, moving close until she could feel his hot breath on her lips. “It’s because I wish to prove how much I—”

“Mimi!” Mrs. Briggs called out from the kitchen. “Them potatoes need scrubbing.”

Alexander pulled away and resumed his attention on the chamber pots. Mimi returned to the kitchen, her cheeks warming.

“ There you are, darlin’.”

Shortly after, Alexander emerged carrying four chamber pots.

“Let me see them,” Mrs. Briggs said. He held them out and she leaned over, peering inside. “A passable attempt,” she said. “Next time you should scrub them for longer.”

His eyes flared, and Mimi suppressed a laugh at the expression of horror in them. Then he nodded and exited the kitchen.

“Don’t forget to clean the fireplaces!” Mrs. Briggs called after him.

“He’s trying, Mrs. Briggs,” Mimi said after he’d gone.

“Aye, he’s a trial, all right. But I’ll tell you something for nothing. If I were twenty years younger, I’d…”

She winked and licked her lips.

“Mrs. Briggs!” Mimi laughed. “You’ve treated him abominably today.”

“Nothing his servants don’t have to put up with, I’m sure. Now, why don’t I scrub the potatoes and you slice them for me?” She tipped a bag of potatoes into the sink. “I’ll give him his due,” she said. “He’s taken it like a soldier and marched on. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Is that why you’ve been so hard on him today?”

“I wanted to discover what he was made of,” Mrs. Briggs said.

“And what have you discovered?”

“That he’s made of finer stuff than he let on,” Mrs. Briggs said, placing a cleaned potato on the table. “There’s iron on the outside, but inside…” She let out a sigh, and her expression softened. “He keeps it well hidden, but there’s a tender heart in there—though I’m sure it’s not something he holds for just anyone.”

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.”