Charles hung her head lower.
“Therefore, I propose you work off your debt, over time, in service to me.”
She expelled a quick breath of relief. “My lord, you are most generous. I shall happily?—”
Wellesley stopped her with a wave of his hand, then stood up, walked over to her garments, and promptly dropped these into the bath. “It still reeks in here,” he grumbled, leaving her agape at his audacity.
He continued on, oblivious. “And, as I am in need of a mistress for the foreseeable future, I daresay you’ll do well enough.”
Charles nearly choked, her mouth opening and closing as each attempt to speak was overcome by a fresh wave of terror, shame, and sheer outrage. She could scarcely breathe for such tumult as now overwhelmed her, refusing to believe this man had just uttered that word. Her mind panicked, her heart raced, all while Lord Wellesley calmly watched her work to form a coherent response.
It took some time.
At last, her turmoil tamed, Charles steadied herself, drawing all the dignity her battered soul could muster. “I am not a whore, my lord,” she told him, “and so with all due respect I must decline your offer.”
“I realize you are not a whore, girl, else I would not have proposed you become my mistress. They are obviously not one and the same.”
“I am sorry, my lord, but I do not see the difference.” She willed herself to remain calm, to answer him rationally, without emotion.
He let out a sigh. “A mistress, Charles, is not paid outright, but is housed and cared for, given allowances and gifts, and in return, serves my bed how and when I should desire it.”
She bit her lip, wholly unconvinced.
“She beds onlyme, Charles, not other men.Thatis the difference.”
Charles desperately tried to overcome the panic she felt overtake her in earnest. “My lord, I am not . . .” She swallowed. “I fear you mistake the kind of woman I am, for I am not?—”
He cut her off, his irritation mounting. “You are not a lady, miss, for a lady does not climb into coops at night stealing chickens. Furthermore, no respectable young lady bathes naked before a man who’s not her . . .” He peered more closely at her. “You’re not married, are you?”
She dropped her head.
“I didn’t think so,” he scoffed.
“Lord Wellesley,” she attempted again to be meek, “I would beg you, please, consider my reputation.”
“Your reputation?” He nearly snorted. “Good God, woman, what tattered reputation would that be, pray, here in Cumberland?”
“My reputation in this community, my lord, remains more than intact, it is untarnished!”
“So you are intact.” His look made her blush all over again. “It appears you will need some educating in your duties then.”
“I have not agreed to your proposition!” she shouted, incensed.
With a flick of his eyes he tore her down. “It was never a proposition, miss, it is yoursentence.”
***
The fear that had been lurking beneath the girl’s pride burst upon her face, making Wells flinch a little at his own behavior, for she’d stood up to him admirably; he liked her mettle.
“Come now, don’t look so dismal,” he told her. “I daresay there are plenty of women in London who’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
“You flatter yourself, sir.” Her voice was cold. “Besides, if London women are so pleasing, why not return posthaste?”
He suppressed a smirk; she had both pluck and wit.
“Let us say I prefer the challenge of Cumberland’s decidedly more bracing climate.” His eyes locked onto hers, equally cool. “I do not wish to send to London for a mistress, and as you have conveniently presented yourself to me this night I see no reason why I shouldn’t sample morelocalflavors instead.”
Her fists clenched. “I am not a dish, my lord.” She gritted her teeth. “I am a free human being with the right to?—”
