absolutely broke and with no hope. “I have no money left, Your Grace.” She had not meant to reveal as much, but she was desperate.
“What of the payment Ashton promised?”
She’d forgotten that, because, of course, it didn’t exist. Lord Ashton had no idea she was here. “Lord Ashton won’t pay me now. Not if you’ve rejected me.”
“I’m not rejecting you. I have no choice but to send you away.”
“I wish to do what Lord Ashton asked of me. But what I really wish, Your Grace, is to prove to you I would make an excellent mistress.”
Before she could argue further, her belly rumbled, then made the most embarrassing growl.
His brow lifted. “Did you eat any of the breakfast tray I sent?”
“No, Your Grace. I wanted to speak with you, and I was too nervous to eat.”
He sighed. “Well, angel, you must have some breakfast.”
There, she had done it.
Breakfast had arrived almost instantly after Anne tugged on the bellpull and the duke gave instructions to his nervous footman. After that, the duke had carefully avoided addressing her bold request. She had very little hope he would let her prove she could become his mistress, but at least he had not given her an outright refusal.
In the brothel, she’d learned all about waiting. Waiting for her next client. Waiting to escape. She’d never been patient when she was young. Whenever she had to wait, she was always frustrated and thoroughly unladylike—tapping her feet, pacing in circles, wringing her hands as though she wouldn’t survive.
That was how she felt as three footmen had brought enormous trays, a carafe of coffee, gilt-rimmed plates, and silver utensils.
She jumped up to pour coffee for the duke. “What do you wish on your plate, Your Grace?”
He waved away the idea of food. Apparently the ham, sausages, bread, and kippers were intended for her. She put the coffee cup in his hand, and he gruffly said, “Eat, love. Your poor stomach sounded hungry.”
It was true but embarrassing. Kat had tried to feed her, but even at Kat’s home she’d been too nervous to eat. The sight of food, the wonderful smells waftingfrom the dishes, made her jaws ache in anticipation. She tentatively took a mouthful. The instant the sweet and savory taste of the ham registered on her tongue, her hunger exploded. The duke stayed quiet and still, and she looked up to realize he was listening to her eat. To ensure she
was
eating, she suspected.
Finally she set down her knife and fork and picked up her coffee. Accidentally, she made an unladylike slurp. It brought a smile to the duke’s beautiful mouth.
“All right, Cerise, how can I help you? If you believe Ashton won’t pay you, I am willing to give you a gift. Something to help you until you find another lover in Town. With money, you should be safe from your madam—”
“No!” she cried, far too vehemently, for his brows arched in surprise.
She swallowed hard. It was not only that she could not go back to London. The truth was, she didn’t want to search for
another
protector. She liked the duke. He was far more gentle and kind than any man she’d known, other than Father and Grandpapa. “I don’t want to accept charity, Your Grace. I propose a straightforward arrangement.”
“I can’t take a mistress, love. As delightful as you are, the idea is impossible.”
“But I liked … giving you pleasure.” Even as she said the words, she knew it wouldn’t work.
“Angel, I don’t want to send you back to London to danger. But I want the truth from you. I think that’s the best way to start. Tell me everything.”
“What sort of everything do you want?” she hedged.
He made a low growl in his throat. “What brothel did you work for? What’s the name of your madam? And what exactly did you do to make her determined to kill you? It couldn’t be simply because you escaped, love. Did you steal from her?”
“No!” Heavens, wouldn’t her life have been much easier if she could have
“What of the payment Ashton promised?”
She’d forgotten that, because, of course, it didn’t exist. Lord Ashton had no idea she was here. “Lord Ashton won’t pay me now. Not if you’ve rejected me.”
“I’m not rejecting you. I have no choice but to send you away.”
“I wish to do what Lord Ashton asked of me. But what I really wish, Your Grace, is to prove to you I would make an excellent mistress.”
Before she could argue further, her belly rumbled, then made the most embarrassing growl.
His brow lifted. “Did you eat any of the breakfast tray I sent?”
“No, Your Grace. I wanted to speak with you, and I was too nervous to eat.”
He sighed. “Well, angel, you must have some breakfast.”
There, she had done it.
Breakfast had arrived almost instantly after Anne tugged on the bellpull and the duke gave instructions to his nervous footman. After that, the duke had carefully avoided addressing her bold request. She had very little hope he would let her prove she could become his mistress, but at least he had not given her an outright refusal.
In the brothel, she’d learned all about waiting. Waiting for her next client. Waiting to escape. She’d never been patient when she was young. Whenever she had to wait, she was always frustrated and thoroughly unladylike—tapping her feet, pacing in circles, wringing her hands as though she wouldn’t survive.
That was how she felt as three footmen had brought enormous trays, a carafe of coffee, gilt-rimmed plates, and silver utensils.
She jumped up to pour coffee for the duke. “What do you wish on your plate, Your Grace?”
He waved away the idea of food. Apparently the ham, sausages, bread, and kippers were intended for her. She put the coffee cup in his hand, and he gruffly said, “Eat, love. Your poor stomach sounded hungry.”
It was true but embarrassing. Kat had tried to feed her, but even at Kat’s home she’d been too nervous to eat. The sight of food, the wonderful smells waftingfrom the dishes, made her jaws ache in anticipation. She tentatively took a mouthful. The instant the sweet and savory taste of the ham registered on her tongue, her hunger exploded. The duke stayed quiet and still, and she looked up to realize he was listening to her eat. To ensure she
was
eating, she suspected.
Finally she set down her knife and fork and picked up her coffee. Accidentally, she made an unladylike slurp. It brought a smile to the duke’s beautiful mouth.
“All right, Cerise, how can I help you? If you believe Ashton won’t pay you, I am willing to give you a gift. Something to help you until you find another lover in Town. With money, you should be safe from your madam—”
“No!” she cried, far too vehemently, for his brows arched in surprise.
She swallowed hard. It was not only that she could not go back to London. The truth was, she didn’t want to search for
another
protector. She liked the duke. He was far more gentle and kind than any man she’d known, other than Father and Grandpapa. “I don’t want to accept charity, Your Grace. I propose a straightforward arrangement.”
“I can’t take a mistress, love. As delightful as you are, the idea is impossible.”
“But I liked … giving you pleasure.” Even as she said the words, she knew it wouldn’t work.
“Angel, I don’t want to send you back to London to danger. But I want the truth from you. I think that’s the best way to start. Tell me everything.”
“What sort of everything do you want?” she hedged.
He made a low growl in his throat. “What brothel did you work for? What’s the name of your madam? And what exactly did you do to make her determined to kill you? It couldn’t be simply because you escaped, love. Did you steal from her?”
“No!” Heavens, wouldn’t her life have been much easier if she could have
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