A Most Demanding Mistress (Fashionably Impure Book 2) (24 page)

Those
gorgeous blue eyes focused on Miranda, narrowing slightly. “Stand for me, Miss
Jones.”

Miranda’s
mouth dropped open.

She
was no slave on the block!

Aunt
Cassandra cleared her throat.

Miranda
jerked her gaze to her aunt’s.

Aunt
Cassandra nodded, ever so slightly.

Miranda
compressed her lips and tightened her fists, a silent protest.

Carrville
couldn’t protect her now. She would have to do what she must to gain entry to
all the best events. On her own. No matter the cost to her pride.

Anger
shot through her as she rose.

Lord
Danvers leisurely scanned her with his gaze, from the crown of her hair to her
hemline.

He
moved his head upwards slowly.

She
lifted her chin even higher as his eyes met hers.

He
immediately turned back to Cassandra. “There’s no denying she is a beauty.”

Aunt
Cassandra’s mouth dropped open slightly. “No denying…” She sputtered, apparently
shocked into stupefaction.

“There
are many, many beautiful girls available in London.”

“My
niece is not just any girl!” Aunt Cassandra lifted her hand and swept the
length of Miranda’s body, the paste emerald accents at the sides of her wrist
glinting like green fire. “Look at her breasts, her waist. Look at the way she
carries herself, just as graceful as any duchess.”

“Graceful
as a duchess, eh?” Cool amusement sounded in Danvers’ voice.

Aunt
Cassandra paled. Then two spots of bright scarlet flared in her cheeks. “She is
a diamond of the first water.”

Miranda’s
ears burnt, not so much to hear her physical attributes discussed so openly.
No, she’d become accustomed to the lack of modesty when her physical attributes
were being discussed by Aunt Cassandra and her circle of older courtesans.

But
having to stand here and be presented to this particular haughty, cold man, and
to have Aunt Cassandra suddenly begin to sound like a dockside madam selling
Miranda’s virtue to the highest bidder, was nearly too much to bear.

Danvers’
mouth twisted wryly. “
If
one fancies red hair.”

Miranda’s
cheeks heated with anger.

Aunt
Cassandra leapt to her feet and rushed closer to Miranda, clasping her waist.
“She is the best damned bit of muslin that Mayfair has ever seen!”

As
though seeking to emphasize her words, Aunt Cassandra gave Miranda a slight
push in Danvers’ direction.

Miranda
tripped on the edge of the carpet and clutched at thin air.

Danvers
caught her by the shoulders as she fell forwards.

His
grip was surprisingly strong. But then she knew him to be a consummate
horseman.

Heat
exploded within her. Delight. Anticipation. Shameful weakness to his appeal as
a man.

His
handsomeness.

Yet,
she could sense how rigidly he held himself, as though her scent, her appearance,
were so vile that he found it repulsive to touch her like this.

She
lifted her chin, regaining as much dignity as her near fall allowed and gazed
coolly up at him.

His
steely blue eyes stared back, emotionless.

Miranda
instantly shoved herself away from him.

Aunt
Cassandra took her by the shoulders. A cloud of roses and musk scent arose from
the woman, a telling sign of her rising body temperature, presumably from
vexation with Danvers. “Do you have any idea of the grand offers my niece is
receiving?”

Miranda
bristled. Not so much from Cassandra’s manner and handling. She was used to the
woman’s less-than-modest ways when speaking of sexual matters. Aunt Cassandra
was jaded from a lifetime of being kept by men and guiding younger women into
doing the same. She meant the very best. Even her little ploy to make Miranda
fall into Danvers, if it was a ploy and not a miscalculation, was well
intended.

No,
Miranda’s ire came from the way Danvers kept staring at her, as though he were
tearing her apart bit by bit. As though he were looking for a reason to reject
her.

He
folded his arms over his chest, turning his attention to Cassandra. “She cannot
be
that
good.”

“You
have eyes, you can see for yourself that she is.”

The
barest smile bent the corners of his mouth, such a smug expression, and it sent
fresh bristles through Miranda.

“I
don’t mean her appearance,” he said. “I mean in the bedchamber.”

A
rage she thought herself long past swept through Miranda. The suggestion was far
past impertinent, even to someone of her position. She wasn’t a streetwalker,
or a woman in a lowly brothel. As much as she might despise her path, she was a
mistress. How dare he pretend that the sole measure of her worth was vested in
how well she jogged her hips for a man. Moreover, Danvers knew very well how
the game was played. No, this felt personal.

The
realization didn’t do anything to tamp down her outrage. Even the tips of her
ears burnt with it.

He
stood before her, regarding her with a speculative glint.

Ha!
Let him speculate all he wanted. He would certainly never find out for himself!

Aunt
Cassandra’s eyes appeared to bulge. “I beg your pardon, Lord Danvers, but there
is more to being an excellent courtesan than how well one warms a gentleman’s
bed.”

Again,
that self-satisfied, amused, little smile curved his mouth. “True; however, she
couldn’t have been all that good at the breakfast or dinner table either.”

“What
makes you say these things?”

“Carrville
didn’t provide for her security.”

“Carrville
was a man in his prime. He didn’t expect to die so soon. Perhaps he was
careless in holding such a belief. Is that any reason to judge my niece so
harshly, especially when everyone knows how happy she made him?”

“If
she is all you say she is, she should have been able to work her way into his
affections and secure her future.”

“He
was mad for her.”

“He
may have fancied her a little.”

“
Fancied
her a little?
He had eyes for no one else.”

“He
did not fancy her enough to leave her a townhouse and a fat account.”

“She
was young, inexperienced. She didn’t understand how to best handle Carrville.”

“Aren’t
you women born knowing how to wheedle jewels from a man?”

“She
was inexperienced in that way. Should there be a penalty attached to being
young?”

“Ah,
now we have reached the crux of the matter.”

“The
crux?” Aunt Cassandra gaped at him dumbly.

“Her
age is probably the strongest mark against her. She would be the youngest girl
at our gathering.”

Hot
words rushed to Miranda’s tongue. She had to compress her lips and curl her
fists at her sides to hold back from speaking out of turn.

“She’s
no girl. She is almost twenty-two.”

“Hmm…”
He rubbed that square, elegant chin a moment, a gesture of affected
thoughtfulness. “There’s something about a courtesan who has reached thirty
years of age and yet is younger than fifty. That’s a very fine age for a woman.
Seasoned, ripe but not overly so.”

Again,
Aunt Cassandra gaped at him. “What earthly purpose can it serve to reject her
based on her age?”

“It
takes more than youth and beauty to serve as a good companion to a gentleman.”

“Does
it indeed, my lord?” Aunt Cassandra asked, her anger showing to a dangerous
degree.

Danvers
nodded, his expression astute, as though he were an older man than he was.

“These
young, spoiled girls can be so emotional. So over-dramatic. They have squeamish
and missish sensibilities that can quite ruin an otherwise lovely time. And
some of my guests have sophisticated tastes. No gentleman wants to be reminded
of the high-strung wife and female relations he’s left at home. My gathering is
meant to provide my friends with a time of escape and release. I certainly do
not wish to have any spoiled chits with sour faces, bewailing how neglected
they are because of all the time the gentlemen are spending out hunting.”

“I
hear and understand, all too well, what you are saying, my lord, but I assure
you that Miss Jones is not that kind of young woman. She will cause you and
your guests no trouble.”

Danvers
lifted his hands in front of him, palms up, an eloquent gesture that drew
Miranda’s attention to how long and large his hands were, how finely made yet
masculine. He turned his attention from Aunt Cassandra back to Miranda.

“I
am sorry, Miss Jones.” Those striking blue eyes bore into hers. “I am afraid I
can’t take the risk of upsetting the harmony of my upcoming gathering. I must
invite only the finest in female companionship.”