“No, I had no right.” He wasn’t smiling now. He drew back a little but, as the carriage rounded the corner to Albemarle Street, he leaned forward and tentatively extended his hand though he didn’t touch her. “Why Violet, that’s surely not a tear? Have I offended you so much?”

“I don’t know why I should be crying, and please don’t say that it’s beyond you why a woman like me should cry over such a matter.”

“Good God, so that is the reason you’re crying. Because I pushed myself on you?”

“You hardly did that, Max.” Violet closed her eyes as she leant her head against the cushioned squabs of the carriage interior. “Pay me no mind. I’m being very foolish. Thank you for a lovely evening.” With an effort, she stirred but as she shifted towards the door, the horses sprang into motion and she was pushed back against the seat again and Max’s voice was intruding, loud but anxious, “Don’t look so frightened. I’m not kidnapping you, but I can’t possibly see you leave when you’re clearly upset. We can drive about while you tell me exactly what’s troubling you. Is it me? Have you lost your heart for this charade? Are there better fish to fry? Men who’ll pay you more money?”

“How dare you!?”

He nodded. “Good, I was hoping to see your fiery spirit return by such a caddish remark.” He crossed his arms and regarded her steadily. “So, out with it. Why are you upset?”

She shrugged and shook her head, not knowing how she could even explain it to herself.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No, you’ve behaved with honesty and transparency. I’m not used to that. Perhaps I was crying because I don’t know when I’ll next meet a man who offers me something with no hidden caveats, or broken promises.”

“Ah.” Despite the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the creak of harness, it was suddenly very quiet inside the carriage. “And you don’t expect anything beyond that?”

“Of course I don’t! Surely you don’t imagine that I do.” She was upset he might attribute hidden designs to her.

“I don’t. Most women in your position would, I imagine.”

She shrugged. “It’s so easy to imagine that would be the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think we’re all the same. That prostitutes are all motivated by the same thing.”

Max blinked. “I haven’t thought much about it at all, I have to be honest.” He looked concerned. “That paints me in a very entitled light, doesn’t it?”

“You are entitled. That’s all right. I understand. We are all who we are because we’re shaped by our circumstances. I don’t expect enlightenment and compassion from the men who pay me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. You could have found a better way of phrasing it without demeaning yourself. Besides, it makes you sound far too intelligent for the work you do. If you want to know the truth, the only time I ever think of you as a—”

“Prostitute.”

He sighed and repeated the word grudgingly, adding, “Is when you say it yourself. So, tell me, why did you choose this path?”

She burst out laughing. “No woman chooses this path. It chooses them! Now, the carriage has gone around the block twice; we’ve had a lovely conversation; you’ve told me all you need to in order to satisfy myself as to the kind of man you are, and you are in no doubt as to the kind of woman I am. All pretences have been laid to rest and now I must claim mine.”

“I’m not delivering you to Madame Chambon’s just yet. I’m worried about you, Violet.” He rapped on the roof and gave the coachman directions for his own home. “Now, before you object,” he said, holding up his hand for silence, “let me assure you that I am paying you for your time, not the services you’ll feel duty bound to render me.” His determined expression was softened by a smile. “Yes, we have a contract, but that contract was quite specific in terms of you upholding a well-motivated charade that’ll keep my aunt happy.” He paused. “Not me. Last time I lapsed, but I’ll not do it again. For fear of repeating myself, I am not in the habit of paying women for sex. I can find my own willing dalliances for free, thank you very much.”

Violet managed a watery smile. “Much too noble, aren’t you, Lord Belvedere? So now you propose to take me somewhere to talk to me because you’re concerned that I’m unhappy.” She paused and raised an eyebrow. “Yet you have no intention of doing anything else, even though you’re paying for my time because that was not in the contract.”

He nodded. “Exactly. You’re my greatest challenge all of a sudden, lovely Violet. See, we’re at my townhouse. The servants are asleep, including the butler and manservant. There is no danger of anyone’s reputation—including my own—being compromised provided you stay quiet.”

“Stay quiet?” She managed a sceptical laugh. “Despite the onslaught of delights with which you’ll no doubt shower me?”

“I told you. That’s not my intention at all. We shall repair to my sitting room for a glass of champagne while we play draughts—at which I’ll allow you to win this time. And we’ll chat. Isn’t that what you women love to do?”

She deliberately narrowed her gaze, and he raised his hands in the air in a gesture of supplication. “Yes, I’m humouring you, but if you must know, it’s only to prove to myself that I can behave like a gentleman of honour under any situation.”

“I hardly think there’s any reason to feel embarrassed by your lapse last time.” Violet studied her fingernails. “I enjoyed it more than I usually do.” There, that should underscore the way it was between them even though it cheapened what had been, to her, a surprisingly rare and poignant intimacy.

Instead of meeting this with bluff good humour as she’d expected, he considered her a moment. Something indefinable flashed across his expression. If she didn’t know better, she might have identified it as hurt.

But then his smile was

Tags: Beverley Oakley Fair Cyprians of London Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net