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‘Of … of course, Your Grace. She’s … in the boot-room down by the kitchen.’
Titus nodded and pulled open the green baize door which led to the servants’ quarters just as he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. Turning round, he saw a breathless ex-schoolfriend, his face bright red with excitement as he skidded to a halt.
‘For God’s sake, Titus—that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen! Who the hell is she?’
Titus opened his mouth to reply, his mind racing as much as his thundering heart. He was aware of Amy looking at him. Of the sensation of being cornered. Of the look of pure lust in the man’s eyes.
‘She’s nobody,’ he said harshly.
CHAPTER TEN
ROXY heard him. He must have opened the heavy green door which had been designed so that no intrusive sounds from the servants’ quarters would ever penetrate the hallowed portals of the big house. Which meant that his words rang out and reached her—like a verbal assault to her ears.
‘She’s nobody.’
The harshness of his assessment made her momentarily stumble and all she could think of was how unfair life could be. Couldn’t he at least have pretended? All that time and trouble to give him a birthday surprise—thinking she was giving him something which might make him smile—and he could ruin it all with two cruel words. Roxy scratched at her itchy forehead as she tottered towards the boot-room. But he was only giving voice to something she’d suspected all along, wasn’t he? And could she really blame him? If you let a man treat you like a nobody, then you could hardly act outraged when he admitted it to the rest of the world. She had leapt into this ill-judged affair without a second thought. The first touch of his lips had been enough to make her forget about her ambition and her hopes for the future. From being a jobbing cleaner who had worked to fuel her dreams to sing, she had become the furtive consort of her aristocratic employer. Like some kind of joke figure from the Victorian era, she had turned into a below-stairs lover, with no real status of her own.
She could hear footsteps behind her and she resumed her unsteady pace, but
it was a long time since she’d worn shoes this high and the dress was so tight that she couldn’t run. The servants’ corridors were like a warren—but as she heard his steps growing closer it didn’t surprise her that Titus must know them like the back of his hand.
She made it to the boot-room and yanked off the wig—pulling all the tight clips from her hair so that she could scratch her fingers through her unbearably itchy scalp.
And that was the moment he walked in, slightly out of breath—his grey eyes unfathomable as they met her gaze. For a moment they just stared at one another.
‘That was some birthday present,’ he said slowly.
Her mind was working overtime. She didn’t know how to play this. How best to get out of his life with the minimum of hurt and aggravation. Or was that asking for the impossible? Some lingering shred of professional vanity made her lift her chin to ask, ‘Did you … did you like it?’
‘Did I like it?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I’m not sure that it was entirely appropriate, but it blew me away. Or, rather, you blew me away. You were sensational, Roxanne.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said, but inside she could feel a sinking sense of disappointment. Appropriate? Couldn’t he forget his damned status for more than a minute?
Titus let his gaze drift over her. Without the wig, her head now looked like Roxanne Carmichael but her body was pure Marilyn Monroe and he felt the sudden rush of desire which made him want to throw caution to the wind. Wouldn’t it be best to brazen this out? To take her back into the ballroom and enjoy her beauty and her talent and to hell with the consequences? ‘Would you like to come back to the party, and dance with me?’
The unexpected question caught Roxy completely off-guard. She touched her messy hair, which was spilling untidily over her shoulders, completely at odds with the sleek, glittery gown. ‘You mean, like this?’
‘Any way you want,’ he said. ‘I can always wait for you to brush your hair out or put your wig back on. I don’t care. I just want to dance with you.’
For a moment, Roxy was tempted by a scenario she’d never thought could happen. She imagined going back in there as his partner. Imagined the thrill of being led onto the dance floor and taken into his arms. Because even though she sensed that part of him disapproved of her over-the-top gesture, she knew he was proud of her performance. She’d given him the ultimate in original birthday presents and now, in that very alpha way of his, he wanted to show her off.
For a moment she allowed herself to go along with the fantasy. She could picture the jealous faces of all the women who had been seeking his attention all evening. She could imagine the hard warmth of his body as they moved in time to the music. It would be very clear to everyone that they were lovers and she wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t wanted that. But what would be the point? Wouldn’t it only give her a taste of a life which could never be hers, no matter how many impromptu cabarets she organised in his honour? All she would be was a very shiny trophy on his arm.
‘Roxanne?’
His question broke into her troubled thoughts and as he pulled her into his arms she knew she had to give him an answer. She’d been so caught up in the fantasy that she’d forgotten one vital thing.
She was a nobody.
Playing for time, she tilted her chin up and he leaned forward to kiss her throat. ‘I can’t face going back in there among all those people,’ she said. ‘Or having to answer a million questions. I’ll just head back to the cottage. It’s going to be a long night here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Titus.’ But she knew that by the time he awoke she would be long gone.
Titus felt the thrust of her breasts through the sheer material of her dress and he closed his eyes as his body tensed with a desire so intense it felt almost like pain. ‘Or you could spend the night here,’ he suggested unsteadily.
For a moment, she thought she must have misheard him. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Here. Or, more specifically—in my ducal bedchamber,’ he said, his grey eyes glittering with humour as he deliberately used the outdated description.
Roxy wanted to laugh and yet she didn’t want to laugh. How dared he try to make her laugh when this was no laughing matter? When she’d never been good enough to take to his bedroom before and she still wasn’t good enough, not really. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
