Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,77
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“Very obliging, Megs,” he said. “I’m glad we’ve rekindled our relationship.”
Titan looked up at him, lips curled in a snarl. Meggie picked the pug up and cradled him in her arms.
“That concludes our business,” she said.
“Oh, Megs!” He clutched his chest in mock hurt. “Leaving so soon? Would you abandon an old friend?”
“We were never friends,” she said. “I was an innocent, and you a seducer.”
“Oh, you wound me!”
“You knew what you were about,” she said. “You flattered me into your bed, and I believed your lies.”
“You said you loved me, Megs,” he said. “That’s the vocal equivalent of offering up your cunny.”
She winced at the profanity. “You disgust me!”
In a blur of movement, he grasped her elbow and propelled her off the path.
“Let me go. You’re hurting me!”
He brought his face close. “It takes two to fuck, Megs. Have you told Dexter that you love him? Perhaps I should ask him myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Would you wager your marriage on it? I’ll be writing to him to offer my services, and could ask him then.”
“I’ve told you before, my husband has a valet.”
“Poor James isn’t so steady on his feet,” he said, “He’s forever running back and forth to Savile Row to add to his master’s ever-expanding collection of cravats. What if he were to trip and break his ankle?”
He released her, and she stepped back and rubbed her arm.
“You see the harm that can arise from you not obliging me, Megs?” He shook his head. “Let’s say one hundred next week, shall we?”
“One hundred? We agreed on fifty a week.”
“I underestimated my needs.”
She longed to slam her fist into his face and wipe off the self-satisfied grin, but she had no wish to draw attention to herself with so many people milling about the park.
“Very well,” she sighed. “I’ll find you another hundred.”
“Of course, if you’re disposed to present me with a thousand, then we can conclude our relationship.”
“A thousand?” she asked. “But I’ve given you a hundred already—there’s nine hundred left.”
He tutted and wagged his finger at her. “Oh, Meggie, Meggie,” he said. “You have it all wrong. As your beloved Dexter would say, think of the thousand as the capital sum, representing your debt to me. What you are paying me now merely represents the interest on that capital.”
“That’s not what…”
“Hush,” he said, silencing her with a raised hand. “If you struggle to understand the concept of capital and interest, I could ask Dexter to explain it to you.” He blew her a kiss. “In the meantime, I’ll bid you adieu, and shall look forward to our next—liaison.”
He curled his tongue round the final word and licked his lips. She fled, her cheeks flaming. He’d always had the ability to discompose her. When they were younger, his gallant attentions had caused butterflies in her stomach. But now, her skin crawled at the thought of him.
Before she reached the park gates, she caught a glimpse of Anne Pelham and her husband. The epitome of the loving couple, they walked arm-in-arm while Anne held her free hand over her belly. Mr. Pelham raised his hand in salute, but Meggie forged ahead, pretending not to see them. Anne Pelham was a dear friend, but she was unnervingly astute. She had recognized Meggie’s distress the day she’d first spotted Georgie in the park and would unearth her secret in no time.
***
Dexter was waiting for Meggie as she arrived home.
“My dear, where have you been?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
“Must I obtain permission before venturing out?”
“Of course not,” he said, “but we have a guest for dinner unless you’ve forgotten?”
Guilt needled at her, and she took his hand. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’ll be ready long before Mr. Peyton arrives. Might I ask a favor, first?”
“Anything.”
“I-I wondered if you might oblige me with a little more pin money.”
“Have you already spent what I’ve given you?”
She averted her gaze. “I want to send a little more to Daisy,” she said, “and Mrs. Preston’s always in need of new books at the school.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Meggie,” he said. “Will fifty pounds suffice?”
“May I have a hundred?”
“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, laughing. “Don’t tell me my frugal little wife is turning into an extravagance! I trust you don’t intend to follow Elizabeth’s example and bleed me dry as she has done her father.”
She blinked back a tear, and he squeezed her hand.
“Meggie, my love,” he said. “I jest.”
She looked into his eyes and saw the longing.
“I-I could wear the orange silk