“No.”
Stilling at the sharp command, balancing halfway out of the bed, he looked over his shoulder at her. She stood there, straight and proud, the woman who beguiled half of London and infuriated the other half. A woman who could command a room of men and took no rubbish. A woman every man wanted to fuck, yet no man touched without permission. She had managed to become every man’s ideal of what he wanted between the sheets, in the bedchamber. His equal when it came to carnal sin.
But few understood she carried all of that beyond the bed. It encompassed all of her, was part and parcel of the whole of her. She could command the wind, ride it through the sky. She could touch him and make him almost feel that he was once again whole.
“You’re not to touch me. I want a maid. Call for one or I shall.”
Slowly, as if she were a dangerous viper that would strike if he moved too quickly, he extricated himself from the bed and stood. “Marlowe, I apologize for my anger. I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”
“Do you think it’s what I want?” She shook her head. “Of course, it’s what I want. I wouldn’t do it otherwise. No one forced me into this life. But it comes at a cost. At nineteen, I was willing to pay it. I can’t now begrudge or hate myself because I like having a nice residence. I like fancy clothes. I like having an abundance of food. I like being squired about. I like being given an allowance. I like that each month I can use a portion of that allowance to pay off a little bit moreof my father’s tremendous debt. It’s not fair to the shop owners or tradesmen that they provided him with goods or services and they are the ones paying the price for it. That some may be going hungry or having things rough because he didn’t pay what was owed. I’ll be thirty-six and a half years old by the time I pay it off. I’ve calculated it down to the penny.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath.
He wanted to cross over to her, take her in his arms, and hold her tightly. He wanted to find her father and beat him to a bloody pulp. He wanted to pay off that damned debt. He wanted to give her everything sheliked. “Marlowe—”
Her hand flew up, palm out, stopping him. “I’m not done. My mother will not leave her house.” She shook her head, visibly trembled. “Before I could return to London, I had to hire someone to care for her. To stay with her, to go to the shops for her.
“I know I was fortunate with Hollie. So many mistresses live in the area where I do. We visit with each other, chat, complain. I know some never go anywhere with their gents. They’re wanted only for the bedchamber. It was never like that with Hollie. We’ve become good friends. And, yes, we... tumbled into bed on occasion. Was it like when I’m with you? God, no. It’s a more quiet coming together. With you I feel like I’m being burned to a cinder and then I rise from the ashes and I feel so bloody marvelous and happy... outside of pleasure, I expect nothing from you and you expect nothing from me. And there’s a beauty to that and what is between us which I think we will lose. Because I will feel I owe you what I am nowgiving you freely. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Langdon. Perhaps I’ll go back to being a seamstress, and it’ll take me the rest of my life to pay off my father’s debt.” Another long, slow sigh. She held out her corset. “You can help me dress.”
It felt like a victory, although he couldn’t take it as her offering a white flag. He couldn’t imagine her ever surrendering.
They didn’t speak as he assisted her with her clothing. She’d given him a lot to contemplate, and he suspected she was worn out from all the emotions that had been roiling through her. It was never easy to face regrets, fear, or uncertainty.
Later, in the carriage, he sat across from her, giving her space, watching as the glow from the streetlamps washed over her and disappeared. Washed over her and disappeared. Again and again. He knew that at some point in the future, he’d watch it disappear for the final time. If he married, he wouldn’t be unfaithful to his wife. And he knew Marlowe wouldn’t expect him to be. But if he never married...
He supposed the audition, which he’d referred to as a joke, never thinking he was actually auditioning, wasn’t over. He had to prove he could provide for her without making her feel like a whore.
The carriage came to a stop in front of her residence. He pushed open the door, leapt out, and reached back for her. He’d never grow tired of closing his fingers around her hand.
He escorted her along the short path and up the steps. He started to reach for the latch to open thedoor for her and stopped. He was angled toward her while she faced the building. “Lovers, then,” he said quietly.
She turned slightly, and he read relief in her eyes.
“Until you say no more,” he finished.
Her smile wasn’t as brilliant as the one she’d given him at the club, but it was a smile nonetheless. “I’d like that but I don’t know how long—”
“I’ll take however long you’re willing to give me.”
She nodded. “I’ll study my finances.”
He truly didn’t understand her reasoning for not accepting assistance from him when she had from Hollingsworth and would from someone else. It would kill him when she did.
“We can argue about it later,” he told her, “but I want to cover the costs for the repairs needed on your balloon, including the basket—”
“The car.”
He hitched up a corner of his mouth. “The car. Not in exchange for anything you’ve given me, but as a gift and because I want to take a ride in the bloody thing.”
Another nod, a hint of a smile. “I appreciate the generosity and I won’t be stubborn about it. Because I want to take you for a ride in the bloody thing.”
Some of the tension he’d been carrying left him with her acquiescence. If he were patient and subtle, perhaps he could over time convince her there was no difference between him and Hollingsworth. And she would allow him to provide for her.
“I very much want to kiss you, Marlowe.”
“I very much want you to kiss me.”
He took her into his embrace, slashed his mouth across hers, and reveled in the eagerness with which she met his advance. He’d never have enough of her tongue parrying with his, of her sighs and moans, the manner in which her arms tightened around him, as if she’d cling to him forever, never relinquish her hold.
