Chapter 2 #2
“I do not think that there is anything wrong with a little pleasure,” she said airily. “Not everyone wants to go through life without it, and you, with your low reputation, in your own words, should know that.”
She saw the tell-tale signs; the twitch around the eyes, the hesitation to respond, the slight movement of the feet.
He was an innocent, no matter what he tried to tell her about his lost reputation.
The Duke of Caershire had probably not even seen a woman nude, let alone touched her, caressed her, made love to her –
Teresa’s eyes widened as she tried to shut off the thoughts that were trailing into a place she would not let herself go. She knew plenty of men like Alexander, and she was wise enough not to lose her head around them.
He could not save her. No one could.
“I have money to make,” she said baldly, and saw with a hint of vindictive pleasure the wince that these words caused Alexander. “I have already experienced . . . well, shall we say a parting of the ways with another of my gentleman this evening, and – ”
“A parting of the ways?” He interrupted, taking a step towards her. “You do not mean – you cannot mean that one of your . . . your friends was the one who pushed you in?”
Teresa could not help but laugh, even though the situation was quite ridiculous. “Oh, Caershire, see this is exactly what I mean! You are not ready for my world, not in the slightest, and it would surely be best for you if you just went home, and forgot that you ever saw me.”
She was shivering now, shivering badly, and if she did not want to wake up with a large red nose, she would have to get dry. Her rooms were close, if she could just rid herself of this drenched Duke and change –
“. . . reprehensible,” the drenched Duke was saying, as Teresa smiled at her new epitaph for him. “No gentleman should treat a lady, not even an – ”
“Even?” Teresa said sharply. “Even? My word, do no tell me that you are one of those gentleman that separates out the good and the bad, us and the others?”
She saw a flush, confirming her suspicions.
“I – I think that there are rules,” he said eventually, bowing his head slightly, unable to meet her gaze. “Rules to follow, and those who do not – ”
“Deserve to be outsiders?” Teresa stared at him. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound? And on the subject of ridiculous, do you know what madness it is that we have been standing here for the last ten minutes, arguing in an alley?”
Spreading her arms, she looked around the place in mock horror.
“It cannot be ten minutes,” he said, pulling a golden pocket watch out of his waistcoat with some difficulty. “It was just after midnight when I rescued you, and now . . .”
His voice trailed off as a long stream of water poured out of his pocket watch as he opened it.
Teresa sighed, and shook her head. “And I had been so close to finding my – my friend, too.” Rapid calculations told her that she would need to find two gentlemen tomorrow night; that, or work on the one day each week that she gave to herself. “It has been a rather bizarre pleasure, my lord.”
She swept into a low curtsey, and as he returned it with a low bow, she took advantage of his lack of concentration and took off again.
The shivering was starting to get worse, and Teresa brought her hands to her lips in an attempt to warm them. All she had to do was get home, and then –
A stone, a rock, a loose brick: she did not know exactly what, but something caught her foot, and she fell, all her weight on her ankle which sparked in painful protest.
“Ouch!”
Teresa staggered to her left, and there was a strong arm there, one that caught her own and balanced her, one that took her hand and placed it on his arm.
“You need to get warm,” said Alexander’s voice, and it was filled with nothing but concern. “And you will not get far on that ankle now that you have sprained it. Lean on me.”
She may be proud, but she was not stupid. Teresa leaned gratefully on his arm, and was impressed at his strength. He did not waver at all.
“Thank you,” she said awkwardly, unable – or unwilling – to meet his gaze. “I . . . I think you are right. Home.”
“I will accompany you – not as protection, just as a crutch,” he said, pre-empting her immediate objection.
Teresa scowled. “Well, to think that you are going to get your way after all, Caershire.”
She chanced a look at him now, and was shocked to see the genuine concern in his face. There were some men, she knew – she had met many of them – who felt that giving a woman their protection, a little help, made them heroes.
Not Alexander, Duke of Caershire. One look at him and you could see that his heart was true, and his concern indisputable. He may consider her profession lowly, but he did not judge her by it.
He was a strange man, to be sure.
“I-I do not live in a respectable neighbourhood,” she said quietly, without shame. “I know that you jested about having a bad reputation, but I must tell you that being seen there – ”
“Who said that it was a joke?”
Fighting this amount of goodwill was starting to become exhausting – but Teresa was not completely fooled. This man wanted something from her, and if he was like any other man that she knew, it was one thing: her body.
Well, he was a Duke. He fitted well into her existing clientele, and far be it for her to turn her nose up at a potential earning opportunity.
“Come now, what street?”
He was speaking kindly to her; kindly, without presumption, without moving his hands over her body, without a question. Teresa smiled at him, and told him the address.
“Now, can you put any weight on your ankle?”
His words, calm and soothing, seemed to still something raging inside her. She could not take money from this man: he was too . . . good was the only word that she could think of to describe him.
If she was not careful, she could almost say that she liked him.