Page 25 of Doxy for the Ton (Misfits of the Ton #7)

“W elcome home, ma’am. I trust you had a pleasant walk. There’s a gentleman to see you.”

“Is it the Duke of Sawbridge, Charles?” Mimi asked, her heart fluttering with anticipation as she approached the front door.

The footman shook his head, and the flare of hope died. Alexander hadn’t visited since declaring his love and tempting her with a life of comfort and dependence as his mistress. But, true to his word, he had deposited two thousand guineas into an account on her behalf.

He had given Mimi her freedom.

It was second best to his love, but freedom would, at least, save her from heartbreak and destruction.

“Who is it, Charles?” Mimi asked, removing her redingote and handing it to him.

“He didn’t give a card, but he said you were old friends. He’s in the parlor. Shall I bring tea?”

“You didn’t think to ask his name?”

“Forgive me, ma’am, I’m always forgetting things. Mr. Wheeler will be ever so angry.”

“It matters not,” Mimi said, touching his arm. “What Mr. Wheeler doesn’t know won’t harm him.”

“Thank you ma’am. We’re going to miss you when you leave.”

“I’m sure whoever takes over this house will be a fair mistress—or master,” Mimi said.

“There’s none so fair as you.”

“You flatter me, Charles.”

“It’s not just me who says so. You should’ve heard what Auntie…I mean, Mrs. Hodge said last night over supper. ‘Charles, it’s a shame Lady Rex will be leaving us after such a short time, for she’s been the kindest mistress.’ And even Mr. Wheeler said—”

“Charles, we mustn’t keep my guest waiting,” Mimi said.

“Very good, ma’am.”

The footman bowed and disappeared along the hallway. Then Mimi pushed open the parlor door.

Her guest stood at the window, his back to her, a cane in his right hand.

“Do I know you, sir?” Mimi said.

“I saw you from the window.”

Her gut twisted with horror at the familiar voice—with its sharp, nasal tones that had swelled her fears and plagued her nightmares. It was a voice she’d hoped never to hear again, but that hope faded the moment she’d looked into his eyes at the concert.

He turned slowly to face her.

“Earl Mayhew,” she whispered.

He approached, tapping his cane on the floor, his pale-gray eyes filled with contempt.

“Lady Rex,” he said, his tone mocking. “My, how you’ve risen in the world— Miss Jemima King .”

She stepped back, her stomach churning at the stench of his cologne.

“My name is—”

“Spare me your falsehoods,” he sneered. “You may have convinced everyone else that you’re a respectable widow, but I’m not so easily fooled. Lady Rex , indeed! You think I don’t know Latin, Miss King? No knight—not even one liberal enough to live on the Continent—would take a whore for a wife.” He gestured about the parlor with his cane. “I take it Sawbridge pays for this,” he said. “Does he know you’re a common whore?”

“Lord Mayhew, please, I—”

“Please what? Do you wish me to keep your sordid secret? Are you fishing for a marriage proposal from Sawbridge? Ha! A whore could never snare a duke—especially that one. You’re just the latest in a long list of tarts he’s fucked.”

“I care not what you say,” she said. “I’m leaving Town.”

“Come to his senses and tossed you out, has he?”

He stepped closer, and Mimi moved to dodge him, but he blocked her with his cane.

“Not so fast, my lovely Jemima,” he said, thrusting his face close. “I can take over the lease of this house. I’m prepared to be generous—you’re a friend of the family, after all. The pater always did say you were a bloody good fuck.”

“How can you say such things?” Mimi said. “Your father would never have said—”

“Oh, but he did , my dear. He and I used to laugh about it—about how he couldn’t bear to look at your whining, cajoling face, so he’d prefer to rut you from behind, like the bitch you are.”

She recoiled with revulsion. “You’re vile!” she cried. “You never deserved to have Walter as a father. He was a good, kind man. I’m only glad that he never knew—”

“Knew what? What a filthy slut you’ve turned out to be? Spreading your legs for every man in Town? Well, it’s time I took my turn. I’m prepared to pay, or”—his face twisted with lust—“perhaps I should just take what I’m owed.”

“I owe you nothing!”

“I disagree, my dear.”

He moved closer. She retreated until she felt the parlor wall against her back.

“You bled my father dry when you whored yourself out,” he said. “All those pretty trinkets he gave you, bought with my inheritance. So you owe me, woman. Now’s the time to collect.”

He grasped her arms and pulled her against him. His hardness poked against her stomach, and she let out a cry and tried to break free.

“That’s it, my filly,” he rasped. “I relish a struggle—it makes the conquest all the sweeter.”

“Ralph, let me go!”

“Oh, Ralph , is it?” he said. “Such intimacy stirs my blood. Soon you’ll be screaming my name as I rut you.”

She struggled, but he tightened his grip and forced his mouth over hers. She tried to twist her head free, but he fisted a hand in her hair, then yanked her head back.

The world shifted out of focus as Mimi fought for breath against his thick, savage tongue. Then she bit down, hard, and rammed her knee into his groin.

“Bitch!” he cried, stumbling back, then he backhanded her across the face.

Pain exploded in her cheek and she staggered back with the force of the blow. With the metallic taste of blood on her lips, she crumpled to the floor, turning her ankle as she fell.

“Filthy whore!” he snarled. “You’ll pay for that.”

He stood over her and began to unbutton his breeches. She kicked out, but he dodged the blow.

“Think carefully, madam, before you deny me,” he said, brandishing his cane. She tried to stand, but her ankle gave way. She reached out to defend herself as he advanced on her, and she braced herself for the blow.

The door burst open and a primal roar, the bellow of a savage beast, filled the air. Mimi’s assailant was pulled back and propelled across the room. She winced at the sound of splintering wood, and lifted her head to see him lying on top of what was once a side table, which now lay in pieces.

“Leave her alone, Mayhew, you blackguard!”

Alexander stood over the earl, his face scarlet with fury. He picked up the cane, and Mimi flinched as he raised it. Then he brought it down on his knee, where it snapped in two, then tossed the pieces at the man he’d vanquished.

“S-Sawbridge!” Mayhew panted. “I say, old chap, there’s been a misunderstanding. I was only taking what was on offer.”

Alexander grasped Mayhew’s lapels and pulled him upright as if he weighed no more than a child.

“You were what ?”

“Be reasonable, man!” Mayhew said, laughing, though fear glistened in his eyes. “A whore will spread her legs for any man if the price is high enough. Perhaps you’re not paying her as much as my father did.”

Mimi suppressed a cry of shame as Alexander glanced toward her, raising his eyebrows. Then he resumed his attention on Mayhew and bared his teeth.

“Lay one finger on her, Mayhew, and I’ll end you!” he snarled. Then he released the earl and pushed him back, wiping his hands on his jacket.

“I’d like to see you try, Sawbridge,” Mayhew said.

“Don’t play games and don’t make promises you cannot keep,” Alexander said.

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“You’ve earned that title through your actions,” Alexander said. “Only a coward would try to take a woman unwilling.”

“No whore is unwilling.” Mayhew cast a look of contempt at Mimi. “I trust you got your money’s worth, Sawbridge. My father certainly did.”

Alexander turned to Mimi, and she lowered her gaze, unable to witness his condemnation.

“I’ll never blame Mimi for what she had to do to survive, Mayhew,” he said.

“She didn’t merely survive, Sawbridge—she thrived ,” Mayhew said. “After fellating my father, she would beg for my cock if it earned her a little extra cash.”

“Why, you filth !” Alexander raised his fist and smashed it into Mayhew’s face. The earl staggered back, his nose twisted at an unnatural angle, his face smeared red.

“Bastard! You’ve broken my nose!”

“I’ll break a damn sight more than that,” Alexander said, advancing on him again.

“Stop!” Mimi cried. “Please!”

He paused, fists raised, and turned toward her. “Surely you’re not wanting to protect this… creature ?”

“No, but I would protect you. Alexander, you’re the better man. You—”

“ Alexander , is it?” Mayhew sneered, his voice muffled as he held his hands to his nose. “Such an intimate address. She called me Ralph earlier, you know—just before she parted her thighs.”

Alexander grasped his lapels again.

“Don’t you care that your whore is being shared about London?” Mayhew said, his voice tight with fear.

Alexander shook his head. “I care nothing for what you say, Mayhew—a sniveling creature preying on those he deems weaker than him. Men like you are ten a penny.”

“As are women like her .”

Mimi flinched at the hatred in Mayhew’s voice.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alexander said. “But you’re too foolish to understand.”

“And you’re—” Mayhew began, but he broke off as Alexander shook him.

“I have no wish to listen to you anymore.”

Alexander marched Mayhew out of the parlor, ignoring the other man’s protests, and their raised voices and footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Then the main doors opened and shut with a crash, followed by silence, save for Mimi’s own ragged breathing.

She struggled to her feet, her face throbbing, then limped over to the window, where she caught sight of Mayhew disappearing round a corner at the end of the street.

She heard Charles’s voice followed by a sharp command, then footsteps approached.

“Mimi?”

She turned to see Alexander standing in the doorway, staring at her.

She awaited his condemnation, but saw only compassion in his eyes. He moved toward her and enveloped her in his arms. She stiffened, but he held her tenderly until she relaxed against him. Then he lifted his hand to guide her head onto his shoulder and caressed her hair.

“My poor love,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wh-what he said, I…”

“Hush,” he whispered, his voice a soft caress. “I care not what he says. All that matters is you.”

“But I… His father…”

He kissed her hair. “There’s no need to tell me anything, Mimi. I care not for your past—I care for you . Here and now.”

He took her head in his hands and tilted her face up. Pain flickered in his eyes when she winced.

“I-I need to tend to…” she began, gesturing to her throbbing cheek.

“Let me take care of you.”

He took her hand and led her to the chaise longue beside the window. Shortly after, Charles entered carrying a tray.

“Lady Rex!” he cried. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

“Just bring the tray like I asked, and stop fooling about,” Alexander growled.

“I’ll be all right, Charles,” Mimi said. “I was…” She hesitated at the memory of Mayhew’s snarling face and the fear of his overpowering her. “I-I was…”

“You were magnificent ,” Alexander said, brushing a stray tendril of her hair behind her ear. “Charles, set the tray here and fetch a brandy for your mistress.”

The footman obeyed then exited the parlor.

Mimi closed her eyes, beset with shame and nausea. She heard a movement and caught the soft scent of herbs. Then a cool cloth was pressed against her cheek. She opened her eyes to see Alexander staring at her.

“Be still,” he whispered. “This will help with the bruising.” Then he smiled, his eyes shimmering in the afternoon light. “I learned from the best, did I not? Ah—the brandy.” He turned as Charles entered with a glass. “Thank you, young man,” he said, taking the glass. “Forgive me for speaking harshly earlier. I was concerned for your mistress.”

The footman bowed and exited the parlor.

Alexander held the glass to Mimi’s lips.

“I can take care of myself,” she said.

“I know, my love,” he said. “But, just this once, I would beg you accept the care of another—he who loves you.”

She reached for the glass, and her hand trembled. He took her hand and guided the glass to his lips, kissing each finger.

“There’s no shame in being tended to after the ordeal you’ve just endured,” he said. “Here, drink the brandy—it’ll help.”

Her heart threatened to yield at his earnestness, and she nodded. Silently, he tilted the glass until the liquid trickled into her mouth. She caught her breath as the fiery liquor warmed her throat.

“There!” he said, in the manner of a nursemaid coaxing a sick child. Then he continued to dab her face with the cloth. “Better?” he asked.

“A little.”

He pushed her gently back, and she resisted.

“You’re still shaking,” he said. “Take some rest. I’ll be here—unless you wish me to leave?”

The hope in his eyes melted her heart, and she held out her hand, suppressing her shame at how violently it trembled.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He kissed her hand again, then nodded. “As long as you need me.”

He reached for her shawl from the back of a chair and draped it over her. Then he kneeled beside her and caressed her forehead with a light, gentle touch that belied his huge hands—hands that had, not ten minutes before, pummeled her assailant to the floor then thrown him out onto the street. Gentle hands capable of protecting her—of loving her.

She relaxed under his touch and sank back.

“That’s it, my love,” he whispered. “I’m here to take care of you. Trust me.”

With his gentle fingers coaxing her into submission, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift into sleep.

*

When Mimi woke, the parlor was empty. She sat up, a thick ache throbbing in her head. The shawl was still draped over her body. She lifted her head and caught sight of the half-empty glass of brandy silhouetted against the window, the last rays of the setting sun illuminating the deep amber liquid from behind. Dying embers glowed in the fireplace—someone must have lit the fire while she slept.

How long had she been asleep?

Footsteps approached, and Mimi smiled to herself.

Alexander had been true to his word. He said he’d stay while she needed him.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t Alexander. It was Charles.

“Good evening, your ladyship.” The footman moved about the parlor, lighting the candles and drawing the curtains. “Will you be wanting supper at the usual time, ma’am?” he asked.

“Is my…guest still here?”

“Sorry, ma’am, he had to leave.”

Mimi looked away, ashamed at the hope in her voice.

“Yes, of course, Charles, I understand. You may serve supper as soon as it’s ready. Then I’ll retire.”

“Begging your pardon for being so forward, ma’am,” Charles said, “but the duke will return. He had an errand to run—one that I believe will be to your benefit.”

“To my benefit?”

“Forgive me, ma’am—he told me not to say anything.”

Her gut twisted with apprehension. “Is anything wrong, Charles? Where did he go?”

“To the park, I believe.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t rightly know, but he said it was for your sake.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand, Charles. What could there possibly be in the park that’s of relevance to me?”

“He didn’t exactly say for your sake, ma’am. He said something about your honor.”

“My…?”

“Honor. Yes, that was it,” Charles said. “I thought it strange at the time. He said he was going to restore your honor. But he didn’t want me telling you.” His eyes widened. “You won’t tell him, will you? I’m already in trouble with Mr. Wheeler for dropping a plate in the kitchen. Said it was to come out of my wages, he did. I…”

He rattled on, while a cold hand of dread squeezed Mimi’s heart.

“Charles, did the duke say when he was going to the park?”

The footman hesitated.

“You have my word you’re not in any trouble, but it’s vital that you tell me.”

He nodded. “Dusk.”

Mimi’s throat constricted and the air rushed out of her chest. She glanced out of the window to see the sun disappearing below the horizon and let out a cry.

“Oh, ma’am!” the footman said. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Forgive me!”

“You did the right thing by telling me,” Mimi said. “But the duke…”

An image forced itself into her consciousness—Alexander standing before Mayhew, weapon in hand…a crack in the air and a puff of smoke…

…and Alexander’s broken body prone on the ground, his sapphire eyes wide and lifeless.

“Charles, fetch my cloak,” she said, leaping to her feet.

“You’re hurt, ma’am. The duke told me to ensure you stayed at home tonight.”

“Charles, please do as I ask.”

“But ma’am—”

“Charles!” she cried. “Damn you— just do as I say! ”

The footman recoiled, then he mumbled his assent and retreated into the hallway. Mimi followed, and as she approached the main doors, he reappeared with her cloak.

“Let me come with you,” he said.

“No, Charles, I’ll not put you in danger.”

“What danger?”

“The duke has gone to fight a duel,” Mimi said.

And, if she couldn’t prevent it, Alexander might be killed.