Beatrice dragged her fingertips along the edge.
“It’s pretty, I suppose…”
“You’ll wear it.Tonight,” Leith snapped.
“I am not sure,” she said, coming back up to standing, and turning towards him.“Do you think it suits?”
“You know bloody well that it suits you.”
“Do you think I’ll impress the women of theton?”
“Blast the women.”
She turned back to the glass and smiled.With teeth.Flashing the gap that had often made her insecure and which legend claimed marked out lascivious women from the others.Now that she was turning courtesan, she supposed she didn’t have to hide it any longer.
“That’s what I thought.”
He glowered but didn’t contradict her.
Subtly, he pulled at his cravat, as if his breathing had been suddenly restricted.
She stifled a laugh.
When she had changed back into her normal frock, for a brief moment, she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.She had forgotten, during her little masquerade on the dais, that she was not truly a courtesan.Not yet, at least.She had let it slip her mind that she was really the no-nonsense, practical Miss Beatrice Salisbury of Parkhorne Hall.Strange.She hadn’t thought herself capable of getting caught up trying on dresses.
Mrs.Warburton came back into the room.
“I will take the green dress,” she informed the older woman.
“No,” Leith said, suddenly standing.“We will take all of the dresses you showed us after my arrival.”
Beatrice started.“I cannot accept that.”
“You’re my mistress, are you not?”
“Well—yes.”Beatrice glanced at Mrs.Warburton.She was directing her attendants to wrap up the dresses, looking like they were discussing nothing more than the weather.
“This is how I treat my mistresses.”
“You buy them gowns?”
“Often.And jewelry—if that suits them.And whatever else they bloody need.That’s how it works, Miss Salisbury.”
Beatrice opened her mouth and then closed it again.She was used to the honest toil at Parkhorne, where what you put into the fields, the land, came out again, if you were lucky.This state of affairs seemed much closer to cheating.
But at the same time, she couldn’t think of one reason to refuse.
Not when she needed every bit of money that she had.
After all, when she found a real protector, a man who had not been arranged for her by a protective intermediary, he would presumably treat her thusly.She would bed him, and he would give her coin and presents.Presents she could sell and send to her father’s creditor.Perhaps she would be able to return to Parkhorne sooner than she thought.
“Very well.”She nodded.“I accept.”
He gave a small, bitter laugh.“I thought you might.”
She winced.Some part of her didn’t enjoy being treated like a doxy.
Leith was clearly used to dealing with demanding courtesans, who were trying to eke out what they could from their time with him.
