A Most Demanding Mistress (Fashionably Impure Book 2) (22 page)

His
fingers brushed flesh that was soft as velvet. Warm.

“My
lord, I have not given you leave to be so informal with me.”

He
shifted his gaze to her face. She’d gone rigid, her eyes cutting into his like
icy shards. Even her wintry stare didn’t cool his lingering pleasure at having
brushed his fingers against those magnificent breasts. The metal heart he held
still retained heat from her flesh.

Reluctantly,
he let it go. “Why do you wear such a plain adornment? The last time I saw you,
you were wearing some lovely pearls.”

She
compressed her lips.

“They
looked quite expensive,” he added.

“It’s
none of your business.”

He
regarded her for a moment. “Did you sell your necklace?”

“I
have expenses, my lord, and I am in need of a protector. You know that
Carrville died with his finances in disarray.”

“Didn’t
Carrville provide
some
security for you?” He frowned. “The man was
totally besotted with you.”

Sickeningly
so, in fact
.

Amusement
flickered in her stare. “Do you think his family honored his promises one day
beyond his demise?”

The
music began again, a lively country tune, a sharp contrast to the sudden
disquiet inside him.

Had
he misjudged her?

He
reached for her hand. “Let’s have some refreshment.” He led her to a sideboard
and procured a cup of wine punch for them both. After they had finished, he
took her cup and set it aside.

“Surely
you possessed a contract?” he asked.

She
stared. Her expression seemed about to crumple. Or had he only imagined that?
Now her eyes looked like flints. “Carrville’s heir has employed a solicitor who
declared that he had not been in his right mind.”

For
a moment, she looked lost.

Girlish.

Innocent.

His
heart panged at this change, such a bittersweet, aching sensation. As though
that organ, perhaps even more traitorous than his faithless, senseless cock,
had been waiting for this evidence of her humanity.

Softness
and warmth. A swelling sensation centered in his chest.

How
ridiculous!

At
least his brain hadn’t turned to mush.

He
knew better than to believe this ploy. Was this how she had snared Carrville?

He
was estranged from Carrville’s eldest son. But he was still close to Dorothy,
and he had heard nothing of any campaign to cheat the girl out of anything that
was legally hers.

These
high fliers would say or do anything to appeal to a man’s sense of
protectiveness, whilst doing whatever was needed to stoke his lust.

Likely
she had every penny piece that Carrville had ever gifted her with, tucked away
in an account. She wouldn’t wear the jewels he’d given her. She would present
herself as being in dire need of provision.

If
the men she’d been talking to earlier were any indication, her ploy was sure to
work beautifully.

Cool
cynicism made a soothing balm for his inflamed lust and hardened his softened
heart. He nodded towards the open doorway. “You command quite an impressive
court.”

She
met his gaze evenly. “I use no sorcerer, my lord. They follow no call but that
of their own will.”

“Hmm,”
he replied. “So you are a guileless girl?”

She
laughed, a woman’s sensual laugh. “I never claimed
that
, my lord.”

“Surely
you have prospects?”

“I
do.”

“So
who is next?”

She
laughed again. “That’s too intimate a question, my lord.”

He
couldn’t help a frown. “The Duke of Froster,” he said, meaningfully.

“He’s
a dear man.”

“He’s
besotted with you. Anyone can see that.”

She
lifted her finely arched, dark russet brows. “You disapprove?”

“You’d
do better elsewhere.”

“He
is a kind man.”

Froster
was a fool. A boy trapped in an older man’s body. He’d be totally taken in by a
skilled courtesan. He wouldn’t stand the least chance of saying no to her.

Adrian
regarded Miranda, seeing not her cool, jaded facade but that lost girl whom he
had first met.

Before
Carrville had her.

Debauched
her.

The
words echoed inside him with painful poignancy.

Yes,
Carrville had been his friend. He had been quite close to Carrville, had cared
for him deeply in fact. But after that twelfth-night ball, after Miss Miranda
Jones had left with Carrville in his carriage and never returned to her
mentor’s house…

A
cold, heavy weight settled in Adrian’s chest.

Had
Carrville’s family really put her to the street as she had claimed?

“It
is not that great a misfortune, my lord.”

Her
velvety tone, warmer now with some emotion, with some…humor? pulled him from
his thoughts. “Misfortune, eh what?”

“You
said it was unfortunate that we had not yet come to know each other well. It is
really not that unfortunate.”

He
frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Because
I won’t be treated cheaply, like you treat everyone else.”

He
flinched.

Then
his blood flared.

Satisfaction
lit her gaze. The coldest sort. The kind that held itself superior and took joy
in irony.

He
didn’t fancy being the object of her amusement.

He
was not the one in the wrong here.

He
was not the one on trial.

His
heart hardened.

It
did not matter what she had been before.

All
that mattered was what she had become.

Jaded.
Heartless. A money-hungry harpy preying on the carnal weaknesses and vanity of
noblemen who were weighed down by the harsh expectations placed on them,
desperate for lovely distraction. The pressures put on a man to possess such a
creature could even lead to his death.

So
it had been for his father.

Perhaps
for Carrville too.

“I
am watching you, Miss Jones.”

The
slight widening of her eyes was the only indication that she’d heard the
firmness in his tone. She smiled and laughed softly. “I have noticed how you
watch me.”

“Don’t
make a jest of this.”

She
cocked her head and drew her brows together. “My lord?”

“I
watched as you hounded Carrville into investing more of his wealth than he felt
comfortable with. I watched how the strain of it drove him weaker and weaker.”

She
paled. “You dare accuse me?”

“I
do.”

“I
would never hurt Carrville.” She narrowed her gaze. “Never.”

“You
knew how Lady Danvers’ death had weakened him.”

She
looked stricken. “It has been three years since Lady Danvers died.”

“I
know how long it has been. I also know that Carrville never recovered.”

She
stared at him, her eyes wide, her expression stripped of all artifice, all
pretense. “He never blamed you.”

Adrian’s
blood turned to ice.

He
had never considered that Carrville might have confided family affairs to his
mistress. Just how much did this chit know?

“He
was distraught, in shock.” Her voice was soft, almost pleading. Nothing like he
was used to hearing from her. “You and he…”

Adrian
went rigid and backed away from her. “Our friendship is none of your business.”

“You
know how he was.” Her face crinkled, as though with concern. “He was too timid
to approach you. You should have forgiven him.”

“You
forget your place, Miss Jones.”

She
opened her mouth to reply, but he spun on his heel and strode away.

Chapter
Two

Miranda
gazed out the window of the moving carriage, well aware of her aunt’s gaze upon
her. But she was too tired to care. The roll of the carriage soothed her. Lack
of sleep had frayed her nerves and made her eyes heavy. She closed them,
letting her head rest against the seat back. Sun warmed her cheek and she
turned her face towards the window. Relaxation melted through her like honey
and she breathed slower and deeper.

Mornings
had become chilly of late, but today dawned a little warmer. In her mind, she
returned to Sussex, where she knelt beside Mama in the garden, her sleeves
rolled up amid the buzzing bees and chirping birds. The smells of earth and
greenery filled her senses. Mama’s laugh carried on the soft breeze, her large
gray eyes filled with girlish delight.

“Do
you plan to tell me what happened last night?”

Aunt
Cassandra’s words shattered Miranda’s peace.

She
opened her eyes and met her aunt’s stare. Sunlight glinted on Aunt Cassandra’s
golden coiffure, revealing the fine lines near her eyes in the otherwise
flawless milky white skin. The light made the rose pink of her carefully
painted mouth seem a shade more garish than it did in a dim, candlelit chamber.

“I
told you, the Earl of Danvers asked me to dance.”

“Whatever
you did or said to him was most unwise.”

Miranda’s
heart sped up, and a sick dryness seized her throat. She forced her expression to
remain calm as she brushed a speck of lint from her emerald skirts.

Adrian
Sutherland, the Earl of Danvers, frightened her. The whole time she spoke with
him last night, her stomach had been knotted, and her palms had sweated inside
her gloves. Oh, she could keep the facade of the elegant, hard-to-acquire
courtesan with many a man.

Men
who were ready and willing to be dazzled.

I
am watching you, Miss Jones.

Beneath
his charming, handsome exterior, Danvers was a hard, cold, arrogant man.

Too
determined to remain in control, too determined to have his way.

So
arrogant, when it was well known that his father had gambled away the family
fortune and Danvers had inherited his title in a state of genteel poverty.

She
had no interest in such men.

And
she never should have confronted him about Carrville. But her heart had taken
over. She had spoken out of turn the words she had burned to say for years now.

Poor
Carrville. Even his daughters had not understood his gentle nature. No one had,
least of all his son-in-law, the hard, arrogant Lord Danvers.

No
one else knew the secret that had driven Carrville to his untimely death, only
Miranda and the other person who had been bent on blackmail.

And
to think that Danvers had actually accused her of hounding Carrville to his
death…

Anger
seethed through her.

Danvers
was too overconfident of his own impressions to be believed. The man likely had
no heart.

“Miranda,
I worked hard to gain your invitation to that particular ball. I think you owe
me some explanation. What the devil happened between you and Danvers?”

“I
told you, we danced.”

“Just
danced? Then why has he denied my request for your invitation to his house
party this coming week?”

Miranda’s
hand froze on her skirt. The tea she’d drunk this morning soured in her belly.
She grimaced, praying her outrage showed, instead of her gnawing fear. “He
can’t do that!”

Cassandra
snorted. “He is the Earl of Danvers. He may do whatever he pleases. And, as I
have pointed out numerous times, Carrville is gone. You no longer have his
protection. Nor his influence.”

Miranda’s
belly cramped again. She pressed a hand to her stomach. “May we stop for some
tea and cakes before we reach the dressmaker’s? I didn’t eat yet today and…”

Cassandra
raised a hand clad in an elegant, pale-green leather glove. “We have no time.
We have an appointment with the Earl of Danvers.”

Miranda
gaped. “What? But why?”

“When
I asked why he would deny you, he said we were welcome to pay him a visit, and
he would explain.”

Miranda
scoffed. “The mighty Earl of Danvers invited us to pop by for a friendly
visit?”

Aunt
Cassandra laughed softly. “I will admit, the invitation is a bit strange,
especially given that he denied you an invitation to his party. Whatever else, you
did provoke strong emotion in him.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “I am not
yet certain just how we can use that to our advantage.”

An
empty ache settled into Miranda’s stomach. She didn’t see why they must rush to
meet with Danvers. Why meet him at all? And why must she starve?

“He’s
an exasperating man,” she said.

Cassandra
nodded, a slightly displeased light in her pale blue eyes. “See him that way,
if you must, but do not forget he is an earl. You have created quite a coil for
yourself, Miranda. I must work hard to unravel whatever knotty little insult
you have done to Danvers’ pride.”

“His
pride?” Miranda tossed her head. “The Earl of Danvers is
over
proud.”

“Please,
my dear, a little gratitude for my efforts is in order. A little humility to
grease the wheels with the earl might help as well.” Her gaze turned stern.
“When we see Danvers, you are to remain silent and let me speak, unless I
indicate otherwise. Do you understand?” Her eyes narrowed. “What happened with
the Duke of Froster last night?”

“Froster
escorted me home.”

Aunt
Cassandra laughed softly. “Yes, I know. I was the one who arranged matters so
that he would have no choice but to do so. But I want to know what happened
once you arrived at your rooms.”

Heat
flooded Miranda’s cheeks. She glanced down at her lap. She was no green girl
that would fluster over such matters. But she had no wish to give any details
of what had proved a disconcerting scene that had played over and over in her
mind during the few hours left in the night once she’d found her bed.

“He
made an offer.”

“An
offer? Just an offer?”

Miranda
looked at Cassandra. “A very extravagant one.”

Yes,
Froster had made her an extravagant offer. But he had terms.

Oh
God, his terms!

Would
she ever be able to bring herself to comply?

What
he wanted, what he
expected
, repulsed her to the very pit of her being.

“Dear,
you are flushing.” Cassandra’s voice held amusement and curiosity.

“It
is very warm in here.”

“We
cannot have you flushed. You must look your best when we face Danvers.”

Miranda
flipped her fan open and began to fan her face.

“So
this was an extravagant offer, eh?” The older woman’s eyes sparkled with
pleasure. “Details, please.”

Aunt
Cassandra would receive a significant percentage of Miranda’s earnings for the
first two years of Froster’s protection. However, that wasn’t her only reason
to be pleased. Miranda knew the woman wanted the best for her, wanted to see
her well set in life. She recounted the exact details of the Duke of Froster’s
offer.

Aunt
Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Oh, he
is
smitten.”

Another
lurch of anxiety skittered through Miranda’s stomach. She released her tension
in a small laugh. “I suppose he is.”

“Well,
this time you will not only get a contract in hand before you accept, but we
shall work harder at getting those terms put into real security. A house or two
for a start.”

Miranda
nodded slowly, feeling a little uneasy about the high expectations. But Aunt
Cassandra had good business sense, and she understood noblemen. Miranda must
trust in her. She mustn’t be so headstrong and eager to believe a man as she
had been with Carrville.

Her
mind drifted back to a better time. When she had been eighteen years old and
newly launched. The Duke of Carrville had been so eager for her. He had
promised her the moon and stars. With his hair already turning silver at the
temples and slight wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes, he had seemed the
epitome of the older, distinguished, responsible nobleman. She had believed
him.

And
she had needed so desperately to believe in a man.

To
have a man care for her.

To
protect her without trying to control her.

He
had been so gentle. Putting her up in an expensive little house, giving her a
coach and four and an account at the dressmaker’s. All this while allowing her to
set the pace of their activities in the bedchamber. He had been the soul of
patience.

He
had understood her limits.

Now
Carrville lay buried in the family cemetery, and his promises, however well
intentioned, had come to little.

“What’s
the matter, Miranda?”

“Nothing,”
Miranda said.

“Oh,
my girl, what now?”

“I
told you, nothing.”

“Did
you allow Froster some liberties? Did you invite him inside?”

That
knot in Miranda’s stomach cinched tighter. “Yes, I invited him in.”

“What
happened then?”

“We
drank a glass of wine and he talked of himself, as men do.”

“He
talked, eh?”

“Yes.”
Miranda couldn’t look up.

“Only
one glass of wine?”

“I
was tired.”

The
clatter of the carriage accentuated the silence.

Miranda’s
belly knotted even more.

“You
were tired?”

“I
have said it.” Miranda immediately regretted her snappish response. She took a
deep breath. “Yes, I was tired. I had bit of the headache.”

“You
do not have the luxury of being tired or having headaches. Those caprices are
for wives. The moment you start reminding a man of his wife or his mother or
his sisters, then, my dear, you are sunk. You are to always be captivating,
always radiant, always available…for the right price and the right gentleman.”

“Yes,
I know.”

“My
dear, dear girl, what am I to do with you?” Exasperated fondness warmed Aunt
Cassandra’s tone.

“I
did let him kiss me.”

“And
I wager you kept your lips clamped?”

“No!”
Miranda blurted, startled at her aunt’s assumption. “It was a very nice kiss.”

“It
wasn’t the sort of kiss you ought to have bestowed on him.”

“I
know.”

“We
discussed this,” her aunt said.

“Yes.”

“Give
a gentleman a taste of what he may expect and no more. And leave him feeling
off his center, pleasured yet knowing he has not yet proved his prowess.”

“You
are right, of course.”

“If
you listen to me, you will have this duke wrapped about your little finger in
no time.”

“I
know.”

“But
if you choose to be stubborn as you were at the start with Carrville…”

“I
know,
” Miranda blurted. She took a deep breath, calmed her ruffled
feelings. “Don’t worry so. He has already made me the offer.”

“The
contract hasn’t yet been signed.”

Perversely,
a wave of relief washed over Miranda at being reminded of that small fact.

She
shuttered her eyes away from Aunt Cassandra’s in an effort to hide her feelings.
They were all working so hard to gain her a new situation. It was madness of
her to wish that it wouldn’t come to pass.

Yet,
part of her wished most desperately that she could run away to the country.
Back to her carefree childhood.

Oh,
what good did that type of wishing do?

A
burning lump filled her throat. She missed Carrville.

Aunt
Cassandra had agreed that a three-week stay in the country to recover from the
shock of Carrville’s unexpected death wasn’t unreasonable.

Miranda
had taken six months.

And
still, just thinking of accepting a new protector felt like a betrayal of all
Carrville had done for her. All he had been to her.

The
Duke of Froster had his virtues. He was pleasant to look upon and, moreover, he
was kind. Easy to converse with, he liked to talk about horses and dogs and his
infant grandson. He was a widower with too much free time. He had done his duty
by the estate and his children. Now he wanted some fun for himself. He had told
her this the night before.

And
Aunt Cassandra was correct.

Miranda
ought to have sealed their friendly intimacy with an example of her oral
pleasuring skill and then sent him on his way.

But
therein lay the problem. The skilled, sensual, sophisticated Miranda, one of
Mayfair’s most exclusive and expensive courtesans, didn’t know a thing about
giving the type of pleasure a man wanted most.

In
fact, just the thought of doing so sent her morning tea surging into her
throat, her throat burned by the bitter acid. Her stomach lurched. She
swallowed hard, wishing desperately that they had time for some ginger cakes
before facing Danvers.

“You
have turned away some magnificent offers and rejected some fine noblemen,” Aunt
Cassandra said.

A
hot yet chilled sensation swept Miranda. Of course she’d turned down those men.
All of them had alluded to what would be expected of her in their bedchambers.

Her
on her knees.

They
had high expectations of her skill.

She
suppressed a shudder. “No matter, Froster’s offer was the best of the lot.”

“Yes,
but you have yet to make it official.”

Another
shiver passed through Miranda.

“You
have qualms about him?” Aunt Cassandra sounded incredulous.

“It
just feels so
wrong
.” Yes, it had felt wrong. It had felt like being
untrue to herself in a way it had never felt with Carrville.

“Wrong?”
Aunt Cassandra repeated.

“I
feel nothing for this man.”

“I
thought you had some friendly feeling for him.”

“Friendly,
yes.”

Aunt
Cassandra’s gaze sharpened. “You did not love Carrville?”

“I
was not
in love
with him.”

“I
did not think so.”

“I
did care for him.”

“Yes,
you cared too much. It made you blind to his shortcomings.”

“The
man had damned few of them.” Miranda couldn’t help the immediate words of
defense for her former protector.

Aunt
Cassandra scoffed. “He made you many promises. Most of which he never kept.”

“His
family would not honor the agreement.”

“You
should have demanded he give you security in more concrete ways. A house in
your name. Investments.”

“Yes,
I should have.”

“I
told you as much.” Aunt Cassandra’s cheeks colored. “I told you to withhold
yourself. To bring him to heel.”

“Yes,
you did.” In Miranda's mind, she could see Carrville’s soft hazel eyes.
Speaking pretty words to her. Spoiling her with luxuries. How could anyone have
ever denied such a dear man?

“He
should have known better too.” Aunt Cassandra’s tone would have cut Carrville
to ribbons. Had he been here.

“I
doubt he expected to die.”

“Who
does? Still, he should have made things right.”

Silence
fell between them, and Miranda tried to find that relaxed state she’d known
before Aunt Cassandra once again spoke.

“How
is your own dear mama doing?”

Miranda
stiffened. “Mama is well.”

Cassandra’s
brows rose. “She is?”

Aside
from a few pleasantries, they had not spoken of Mama since Miranda’s return
from the country. It wasn’t the most comfortable topic between them.

Miranda
sat up straighter and feigned a smile. “She is fine, as I told you.”

“No,
child, I want to know how my sister is
really
faring.”

Miranda
suppressed a sigh. “Her nerves are much better of late. Dr. Harper has worked a
miracle with her.”