Page 80 of Three Weeks with a Princess
She made a disgusted little snort and went to work on her other foot. “Truly, I don’t know how these poor women can bear to be touched with such lewd intent.”
He couldn’t help a rueful smile at her naïveté. “There are some women who are quite amenable, although I’m sure most would prefer not to be viewed as a commodity. But a number of the ladies—not all of them prostitutes, I might add—generally enjoy the evening’s activities as much as the men do.”
She dropped her shoe. “Really? Scampering about in public half-naked and letting men . . .” She waved a vague hand. “Well, I’m sure you know. The financial compensation hardly seems worth it.”
“For some it is. I think you already know that, given your family’s history.”
She shot upright, giving him an offended stare. “I can hardly imagine Granny or my mother participating in orgies. They have too much dignity.”
Jack had heard enough about Lia’s mother to know she’d probably taken part in more than one Cyprians’ ball in her younger years. That tidbit, however, he would keep to himself. “If you think it’s so bloody awful, what the hell are you doing here, Lia? What was the point of this misadventure?”
“We’ve discussed it a million times,” she said impatiently, “and I’m not getting into it again. Suffice it to say that I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
He dug his fingertips into the door’s wood panels. “You know very well you do have choices; we’ve discussed those a million times, too.”
Her full lips pursed, forming a pretty rosebud that nonetheless suggested a scolding was imminent. But then she blinked twice and her mouth rounded into a silentoh, as if something—an image or an idea—had surprised her.
Oh hell.He knewthatlook, too.
She folded her hands neatly in her lap and demurely tucked her feet under her skirts—or tried to; the bloody dress stopped several inches above her ankles. Still she made a game effort at looking as ladylike as she could under the circumstances.
His sweet girl was getting ready to pull something over on him.
“Of course you’re absolutely right,” she said in a cheerful tone.
“That you have choices?” he asked cautiously. “I’m glad you agree.”
She gave him a smile so indulgent it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “Not that, silly. You’re right about not wanting me to sneak around the demi-monde searching for a protector. Not only is it a disgusting exercise, it’s not a very efficient way of achieving my ends.”
“That’s not what I was talking about at—”
She held up a hand. “Please don’t interrupt, Jack. Whether you like it or not, this is happening. And instead of putting obstacles in my way, I would be most grateful if you decided to help me. That is what a true friend would do.”
He felt sure his eyeballs had just popped out to the end of their stalks. “Help you become a whore? Are you mad?”
Her smile wobbled a bit. “There’s no need to be rude. I don’t want you to help me become a whore. I want you to help me find a protector.”
“It amounts to the same thing,” he said incredulously.
“I do not agree. A prostitute has very little control over her circumstances and life. But if I can find a suitable protector, one who is both respectful and trustworthy, I believe I can negotiate an arrangement suitable to both of us. That will allow a degree of independence and control in my life that has been missing—as well as allow me to comfortably support Granny.”
“You want to find someone who is both respectfulandtrustworthy? Given what I know about most of the men in the Ton who keep mistresses, I’d say you have your work cut out for you,” he said sarcastically.
“Exactly my point. I never thought of you as dense, Jack, but I’m beginning to wonder.”
“Lia, what the hell do you want from me?”
“I would like your assistance in identifying potential candidates and establishing qualifications, pointing out what characteristics I should be looking for. Of course, I need to find someone who’s plump in the purse—”
“Which rules me out, of course,” he snapped before he could stop himself.
She looked taken aback. “You rejected me, remember?”
“I’m just trying to make a point,” he said, trying to recover his footing.
“Which is?”
It was no longer a question of him possibly losing his mind. He was now convinced it had gone permanently missing. “I’m not going to waste my time trying to explain something that should be perfectly obvious.”
