Unmasking the Duke's Mistress. Margaret McPhee
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rose and moved away to stand over by the long black curtains that covered the window.
Arabella could not just sit there and let the questions continue, not when she feared where they might lead. Besides, Dominic had no right to question her. He had forfeited the right to know anything of her life when he had made his decision all those years ago. Let him think the worst of her if it prevented his questions and made him leave. Let him think she was the whore he had just made her. Better that than the alternative.
She could not bear for him to see how much she was hurting. And she could not bear for him to know the truth of her situation, of the desperation that had led her to this place. Better his contempt than his pity, and better still that he left knowing nothing at all.
The chink of night sky, between the edge of the curtain and the wall, was very dark. There were no stars, and the street lamps outside remained black and unlit and everything seemed to be waiting and edged with danger. And when she glanced round at Dominic he was sitting staring into the small flames that flickered amongst the glowing coals, the expression upon his face as dark and brooding as the night outside.
‘I cannot believe that I have found you here … in a damnable brothel!’ Dominic was still reeling from the shock of it. All these years he had imagined that one day he might find her. He had imagined a thousand different scenarios, but not one of them had come close to the reality. She was a lightskirt in an upmarket bordello. Miss Noir, in Mrs Silver’s rainbow selection for those men who had enough blunt to pay. He felt sick at the thought.
‘Then walk away and pretend that you have not,’ she said in a low voice, but she did not look round.
In the silence there was only the crack from the remains of the fire upon the hearth.
‘You know that I cannot do that, Arabella.’ It did not matter how aggrieved he was, she did not deserve life in such a place.
He glanced across at her standing there in the flimsy black silk that revealed more of her figure than it covered, and the nakedness of her back where the laces hung loose and, despite everything, he felt desire.
It disgusted him that he could still want her after her faithlessness with Marlbrook and after all he had already taken from her this night in such despicable circumstances. He was not proud of having treated her like a whore, even if that was what she was. And he swore to himself that, had he known that she was Arabella, he never would have touched her. But it was too late for that. He had done a great deal more than touch her.
‘Why not? It is what I want. For you to leave … and not come back.’
Dominic felt the stab of her words, but he did not retaliate, nor did he take his eyes from the fire. A section of the molten embers cracked and collapsed and in the space where they had been one small flame remained, burning hotter and more brightly than all the other.
‘For the sake of what was once between us, Arabella—’
‘I do not want your pity, Dominic!’ She swung round to face him, standing there with her hands on hips, her face proud and angry. ‘And whatever was between us is long dead.’
‘Oh, I am more than well aware of that, Arabella.’ Her eyes flashed with a fierceness he had never seen there before. Her lips were flushed and swollen from his kisses, and the creamy swell of her breasts rose and fell with the raggedness of her breath. His gaze dropped to where her rosy nipples were beginning to peep over the black silk.
She saw his gaze and, with a fury, wrenched the bodice higher and held it in place.
‘It is a bit late for that, Arabella.’
She might pretend otherwise but, unlike him, Arabella had known with whom she was coupling and Dominic had felt the spark in the response of her lips to his, an echo of what had once been. The love might be dead, but there was still a physical desire that burned strong between them.
His gaze dropped from her back to the fire.
He had not forgiven her, but he could not leave her here.
He could not forgive her, yet he wanted her still.
An idea started to form in his head, one that might finally allow Dominic to purge the demons that drove him.
She was watching him when he got to his feet and moved towards her. He saw the shiver that ran through her body and he found his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Her eyes met his and he saw the surprise and wariness and unspoken question in them.
‘You do not have to do this, Arabella.’
‘I’ve already told you that what I do is none of your concern.’ Her voice was curt and her eyes cold.
‘I could help you.’
‘I do not need your help, your Grace,’ she countered.
‘That may be, but you will hear me out just the same, Arabella.’
She stared at him, her expression closed, yet he could sense her caution and suspicion.
‘It would mean that you would not have to sleep with one different man after another, at the mercy of whatever demands they might make of you. You would not fear to be cast out into the streets. Indeed, you would never want for anything again.’
She frowned slightly and shook her head as if she did not yet understand.
‘I would give you a house, as much money as you need. You would be safe. Protected.’
‘Protected?’ She echoed the word and he saw her eyes widen.
‘We would come to an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial to us both.’
‘You are asking me to be your mistress?’ She gaped at him.
‘If that is what you wish to call it,’ he said.
The silence was tense. From outside the room came the sound of a woman’s giggle and a man’s booted steps receding along the passageway.
He saw the shock so stark and clear upon her face and knew that whatever Arabella had been expecting it had been nothing of this. And just for a minute he thought he saw such a look of sadness in her eyes, of a pain that mirrored the one he had carried in his heart all of these years past, but it was gone so fast that he was not sure if he had imagined it.
‘Arabella,’ he said softly and could not help himself from touching a hand to her arm.
He felt the slight tremor that ran through her body before she snatched her arm away.
‘You think it to be done so very easily?’ she asked. Her tone was cynical and when she raised her face to his again there was the glitter of some strong emotion in her eyes.
‘It can be done easily enough,’ he said carefully. ‘I would pay off Mrs Silver; she would give us no trouble, I assure you.’
He saw her swallow, saw the way she gripped her hands together as if it was such a difficult decision to make.
‘I have come into my father’s title, Arabella. I am a very wealthy man. I would rent you a fine town house, furnish it as you wished. Your every want would be satisfied, your every whim met. I am offering you carte blanche, Arabella.’
‘I understand what you are offering me,’ she said and her voice was cool and her expression unmoving.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Will you give me your answer?’
‘I need time to think,’ she said stiffly. ‘Time to fully consider your offer.’
‘What else can you have to consider?’ He smiled a cynical smile. ‘Have I not covered it all already?’
Her pause was so slight that he barely noticed. A heartbeat of time in which their eyes met across the divide. And there was something in her gaze that was contrary in every way to the strong cold woman standing before him. A flash of misery and hurt and … fear. But as quickly as it had