Her eyes flew open, and he saw alarm in the dark depths. “Nothing, monsieur.” Raising one hand, she wiped at the tears with the back of her wrist. “Please, just go ahead and do—whatever it is you are going to do.”
As Philip mentally reexamined the last few minutes, a horrible suspicion occurred to him. “Surely this isn’t your first time!”
She nodded, her expression a heartrending mixture of misery and valor.
Philip felt as if ice water had been poured over his head. While there were men who delighted in deflowering virgins, he and his friends had always preferred the practiced embraces of skilled demireps.
Now that he examined the girl more closely, he saw that she was definitely not of that company. Her demeanor more nearly resembled that of an early Christian trying to appear brave while lions entered the Coliseum. “Why on earth did those idiots choose you?”
“I was in Covent Garden and wearing a truly vulgar cloak, so they assumed I was the kind of female they were looking for,” Nicole replied. “Does it matter that I am inexperienced?”
“Yes, it matters,” he said shortly.
“My ignorance will reduce your pleasure. I’m sorry. I did not mean to cheat them. Or you.” Distressed tears trembled in her eyes again. While Nicole had steeled herself to accept passively whatever was done to her, she was unprepared for talk or explanations.
With some violence, the baronet slid off the bed and stalked across the room. Tall and powerfully built with the breadth of his shoulders emphasized by his white shirt, he was a daunting sight. Still, there was no denying that he was a fine figure of a man. In spite of what the redhead had said, Nicole had expected someone repulsive.
After muttering something under his breath, Sir Philip turned and leaned back against the fireplace mantel with his arms folded across his chest. His voice over-controlled, he said, “Why did you agree to do this?”
Perhaps there was a protocol for such a situation, but if so, it was not one Nicole’s mother had ever explained. When in doubt, use the truth. “For the money, of course,” she said in a small voice. “I am a seamstress, but I lost my position. Since I’ve been in London for only a month, I had no one to turn to. Even so, it did not occur to me to...to sell myself, but when your friends made the offer...” She shrugged expressively. “It seemed like providence.”
His brows drew together. “So it was a choice between me or starvation?”
“Well…yes,” she said uneasily, hoping he would not take offense.
“How wonderfully flattering,” Sir Philip said caustically. “Are you planning to take this up as a career?”
“Most assuredly not,” she retorted. “I will find another situation before the money runs out.”
He studied her face for a long moment, then sighed and ran one hand through his thick, light brown hair. “Taking advantage of desperate virgins is really not a habit of mine. Perhaps it’s best if you go now.”
He didn’t find her attractive. It was an oddly disconcerting thought, even though at the same time Nicole was so relieved that her knees were shaky when she slipped off the bed and went to the neat pile of possessions she had tucked in a corner.
She was sorely tempted to change into her own clothing and leave without saying more, but unfortunately honor insisted that she could not do that. She knelt and fumbled with her cloak until she found the bank notes in the pocket, then rose and walked to Sir Philip. “Here,” she said, her voice bleak. “Please return this to Lord Masterson, for I did not earn it.”
After a still moment, his hand closed around hers, locking the notes in her hand. “Keep the money,” he said gently. “Neither he nor Kirby would expect to be repaid, and your need is greater than theirs.”
Nicole bit her lip, wanting to cry again because of his kindness. Before she could become maudlin, the baronet said testily, “Now for God’s sake, put on something more opaque before I forget to be noble.”
Glancing up, she saw frank desire in his gray eyes. Warm color flooded her face, but there was satisfaction in knowing that he did admire her.
After collecting her clothes, she went to the dressing room so that she could change away from his intense gaze. However, she had forgotten who was closed inside. As soon as she opened the door, small furry feet roared across her bare toes and headed straight for the man by the fireplace.
After a squeak of surprise, Nicole raced after the cat and managed to scoop it up before it could assault Sir Philip.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered as she clutched the cat to her chest. “I forgot my cat was in the dressing room.”
Luckily he was amused rather than offended. “So it was to be aménage a trois. What’s her name?”
Nicole hadn’t chosen one yet, so she made an instant decision. “Merkle.”
“Merkle? An unusual choice for a cat.” He reached out to scratch the cat’s chin. As the little calico began to purr under his ministrations, Nicole was very aware that the baronet’s fingers were within an inch of her breasts, and that she wore only the sheer negligee that Masterson had provided. How would it feel if those knowing fingers caressed her with the same gentle strength that was enrapturing the cat?
Scandalized by the direction of her thoughts, Nicole stiffened and moved away. “Miss Merkle was very kind to me when I lost my position, and I wanted to honor her. Though I suspect she mightn’t be flattered to be remembered this way.”
“How did you lose your situation?”
Nicole stared down at the cat, not wanting to say, but unable to lie. “I was accused of stealing.”
