“A month of your time,” he repeated.
Outrage warred with something else. Interest.
She pinned him with a glare. “You said you weren’t suggesting something depraved.”
But Whitby only smiled. A devilish smile. A knowing one.
“I suppose that depends upon your definition of depraved. I promise you that it would be a very enjoyable month, Miss Lenox. Or may I call you Miranda?”
“You may call me Miss Lenox,” she said crisply, her fingers clenching in her skirts.
“I’ll be honest with you,Miss Lenox,” he said, taking his time on her name and drawing it out. “I desire you. But I want you to desire me as well. If, at the week’s end, you find yourself uninterested in pursuing an association between the two of us, you will be free to leave three thousand pounds wealthier. However, if you should desire to continue, in a discreet fashion, of course, you will receive ten thousand pounds in return for one month.”
Carte blanche.
The Duke of Whitby was asking her to be his mistress. Was offering her money to share his bed. What would that make her? A kept woman?
“No,” she bit out. “I will not be paid to be your…your strumpet.”
“You would hardly be that,” he said with a small smile. “But either way, I don’t want your answer to the latter portion of my offer now. Save it for the house party’s end. For today, all I require is your answer concerning the three thousand pounds and your heavenly cream ices and cornets.”
He thought her cream ice and cornets heavenly?
Miranda couldn’t deny the notion pleased her. For all her life, her true passions and aspirations had been repressed. Ladies did not toil in kitchens. Countesses did not work closely with their cooks and create their own recipes for ices. Nor did they dream of writing recipe books and giving other women the means of seizing their own independence.
A flush stole over her cheeks as he continued to regard her in that thorough, frankly sensual way. “If I were to agree to the first portion of your offer only, what promise do I have that you would honor my decision?”
He took one step closer, bringing their bodies nearly flush, and leaned down to murmur in her ear, “I only bed willing women.”
Her knees trembled. His breath was hot and sweetly scented of mint. Her body’s reaction was instant, longing unfurling deep within her. Her marriage with Ammondale had been a cold one, but that didn’t mean she didn’t remember what longing had felt like. Nor did it make her incapable of feeling now.
She jerked her head back, nearly cracking her skull on the plaster behind her. “Then I need not fear you will go back on your word.”
“Do you agree to delight the guests of my house party with your exceptional ices and desserts?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
Her common sense told her to cry out a denial and charge out of the room. To run far and run fast. But there was another part of her—the practical businesswoman—who knew she could not afford to turn down such a sum. She needed it. The school needed it.
Miranda bit her lower lip, then huffed out a sigh. “In exchange for three thousand pounds?”
He nodded, his gaze slipping to her mouth. “For the first week, yes.”
Why did his stare feel as intimate as a kiss?
“I’ll need half the funds at once, in order to keep the school running in my absence,” she demanded.
“Of course. You may have the other half at the completion of the house party. Or, you may have the full thirteen thousand at the month’s end.”
“Three thousand shall be sufficient, Your Grace.”
He grinned. “You seem so sure of yourself, lovely.”
Her lips thinned. “Because I am.”
“Excellent. I like nothing so much as a challenge. Half the funds will be delivered to you today, with the other half awaiting the party’s end. As for the rest—” here he paused, a wicked glint entering his eyes— “we shall revisit it when the time arrives.”
She gave a jerky nod, wondering what she had just consented to.
“You agree to my terms?”
