A Taste of Desire(60)

“I’m not here for that. I’ve come to tell you I’m ending our arrangement,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone, while retaining his hold on her hand.

The force of the slap caught him unawares, causing a stinging pain in his left cheek. That was when he wished he’d captured both hands.

“You wretched bastard.” Fury contorted her features, turning what he’d always thought was a comely visage into something not quite as comely. Not with her pupils dark pinpoints of rage and her red mouth drawn into a feline’s angry hiss.

She sprang to her feet and commenced raining blows all over his shoulders and arms.

The instinct of self-preservation surged to life and sent Thomas to his feet to capture the small hands before she managed to do any real damage. “Good God, Grace, get a hold of yourself.” He held her hands firmly while she tugged in vain to free them.

“A year I have saved myself for you. An entire year when I could have had any gentleman in London. They all wanted me, you know. Do you know how many men offered their protection? Men I turned down waiting for you, and you could barely see your way to call on me in the last three months.”

In an abrupt and unexpected move, she stopped struggling, her body going limp. She dropped back down onto the sofa. Thomas released her and quickly positioned himself on the other side of the center table opposite her, well out of her arm’s reach.

A violent shudder wracked her body as she covered her face with her hands and began a noisy sobbing.

Thomas could bear almost anything but a weeping, distraught female. And it had been at least three years since he’d had to endure such a scene. One of the reasons he had chosen Grace was because she’d not appeared the sort of female prone to crying fits. She’d handled herself with the kind of aplomb he admired and wanted in a mistress. With her, there’d be no histrionics. She’d keep to fulfilling his sexual needs and being the model escort when he desired one. Or so that’s what he’d thought. Four months into their arrangement she’d dispelled that assumption when she began to complain as the frequency of their meetings began to wane. From that point on, Thomas knew the clock on their arrangement was winding down. But obviously the end hadn’t come soon enough, he thought, rubbing his smarting cheek as he flexed his jaw.

“You’ve known from the start these sorts of arrangements are temporary,” he said, shifting on his feet. He watched her body heave as she inhaled and exhaled long, shuddering breaths.

At his words, her head jerked up, her hands dropped from her face, and he saw red swollen eyes and tear-stained, mottled cheeks. “It’s that woman, isn’t it? She’s demanded that you give me up, hasn’t she?”

Thomas’s thoughts flew immediately to Amelia. How could Grace possibly know about her? “What woman?” he asked sharply.

“The bloody Duchess of Bedford. The one who was here three weeks ago. Oh, she went on as if she’d mistakenly called on the wrong house. Said she thought a Mrs. Franklin lived here. But even after I told her there was no woman by that name around here, she didn’t leave. She started asking me questions about you. Were we acquainted? She told me how you and she had been close.” Grace stopped to swipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not stupid. I knew why she was here.”

Shocked but careful not to betray his alarm, Thomas stated calmly, “I’m not involved with the duchess nor do I desire to become so.” Never, ever again.

“You’re lying.” Her statement was bitterly accusing.

“Why on earth would I lie to you? You are not my lady wife. I have nothing to hide.” The letters were naught but a small nuisance. Her temerity, however, in calling on his mistress was a different matter altogether. One he intended to put a stop to immediately.

“You have had no discussions with her in regards to me?” Still disbelieving.

“I’ve had no contact with the woman in well over seven years. I was barely a man when we became acquainted.”

Faint hope flared in eyes still glassy from tears. “Then why—”

“But that changes nothing between us.” He sighed a long weary sigh. “I made no promises, Grace. You are acting as if I offered more than what we had. I did not.”

“Yes, just someone to scratch an itch when the need strikes you.” Tears choked her voice.

“That’s what a mistress is for.” Thomas didn’t want to sound callous, but in that she left him little choice.