Page 5 of Doxy for the Ton (Misfits of the Ton #7)

Chapter Five

“I want you to 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.

“Oh, I have,” he said. “But to refuse me without discussing your price?”

“I won’t be beholden to any man, with an uncertain future.”

“There’s no uncertainty about it,” he said. “I’ll pay you an agreed sum to be my mistress until next summer.”

“Next summer?”

“The start of the London Season,” he replied. “At which point I’ll have no more need of your services.”

“Because you’ll replace me with a more respectable mistress?” she sneered. “Or a wife?”

He snorted. “I’ve no need for a wife . The offer’s there—take it or leave it.”

“Why would I?”

“Because we can help each other.”

She let out a laugh. “How can I help you ?”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she saw the pain in his eyes—pain brought about by grief, shame…

…and loneliness.

What would a duke—a man who could purchase anything on a whim—know about loneliness?

Then he blinked and the expression was gone. He was almost as accomplished at playing a part as she.

“Are you willing to consider my offer or not?” he asked. “If not, you should leave before my valet catches you in here.”

“Not without my ten guineas,” she replied. “And I doubt your valet would be surprised to find a whore in his master’s bedchamber.”

He flinched.

“I have yet to hear what I stand to gain,” she continued. “So far, you’ve only told me what you want.”

“A thousand pounds.”

Her stomach fluttered and she fought to retain her composure.

Surely she’d not heard that right?

Then he sighed.

“Very well,” he said. “Guineas. One thousand guineas .”

Sweet heaven! It was more than she could dream of. Enough to set her up for life—and others who relied on her.

Enough to make a difference .

He stepped closer. “Well?”

The arrogant tilt of his chin needled at her. No doubt he’d make her earn every penny, having her at his beck and call. In which case…

She folded her arms, tilted her chin, and met his gaze.

“Two,” she said.

A smile danced on his lips and his eyes twinkled with amusement. Then he extended his hand.

“Very well. Two thousand.”

She reached toward him then paused. He lowered his gaze to her arm, which was covered in bruises.

“Guineas,” he added. “And I’ll meet your reasonable expenses during the term of our arrangement.”

It was almost too good to be true.

“And—the payment?” she asked.

“You’ll receive payment once you’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain,” he said. “At the end of the term.”

So it was too good to be true.

She lowered her hand, and his forehead creased into a frown.

“Don’t you intend to fulfil your part of the bargain?” he asked.

“You question my honesty when I’m the one who bears the risk of our arrangement?” she said. “What’s to stop you reneging and leaving me with nothing?”

“My word as a gentleman.”

Mimi suppressed a snort. “From my experience, a gentleman’s word is worth nothing— less than nothing.”

“From your experience?”

Damn him! She’d almost revealed herself. “It’s an expression, nothing more.”

He stared at her, and her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. “Can’t you take me at my word, Mimi?”

“You can promise all you like, but what if something happens to—”

She broke off.

What if something happens to you?

His expression darkened.

“What a practical little creature you are,” he said. “But I suppose if this is a business transaction, it makes sense that we allow for every contingency while negotiating the terms. Very well—if you agree, then tomorrow I’ll place a deposit in your name with my banker, to be released to you either at the end of the term or if I should die beforehand. Does that meet with your satisfaction, madam?”

She flinched at the ice in his voice.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said. “Now, if I’m to pay such a sum, I expect a certain standard of behavior. I am, after all, seeking to improve my standing among the more… fastidious members of my acquaintance.”

“By purchasing the services of a whore?”

“Beginning with your behavior and appearance,” he continued, ignoring her. “If this is to be a success, you must give the appearance of respectability…” He lowered his gaze to her body, and she tightened her grip on the bedsheet as she fought to conquer the shame coursing through her at the contempt in his eyes.

“The appearance ?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can be a widow—lately returned from the Continent. Italy, perhaps…” He nodded. “Yes, Italy—so few of my acquaintances are familiar enough with Italy to be suspicious if you’re unable to answer their questions.”

“A widow ?”

“Come now,” he said. “You’ll have played many different roles to satisfy the men who pay for your services. You only need to speak properly, look a little sad, and make a pathetic comment or two about how the man you loved left you to face the world alone. Are you capable of that?”

She fought to suppress the memory of the day she learned that the only man capable of loving her had been taken from her. The tears she’d fought to conquer swelled in her eyes, and she turned away.

“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.