The Miss Education of Dr. Exeter by Jillian Stone Read Free Book Online Page A

indecision, storm clouds gathered behind those lovely ice-blue eyes of hers. “Yes, why not?” He shrugged in surrender and gestured up the stairs.
    Inside her rooms, she turned up the gaslight and moved to a breakfront. “Whiskey or cognac?”
    Esmeralda’s boudoir was inviting, familiar—filled with books and art. Looking around at the furnishings, he could not think of a sofa or chair they had not . . . taken pleasure on.
    Exeter set his hat down on the side table. “Nothing for me.”
    She turned away from him, and poured the whiskey. “One for me.” She poured another. “And one for me.”
    Exeter moved closer, so close he nudged the back of her bustle.
    “Your charge is lovely, Jason.” Sweeping her skirt to one side, she turned to face him.
    Slowly, without taking his gaze away, he reached around her. “I believe I’m thirsty after all.”
    “I shall try a third time. Your ward is love—”
    “Mia needs me.”
    She inhaled a breath and spoke on the exhale—barely a whisper. “I need you.”
    He tossed the smoky spirit down his throat, savoring the liquid amber burn. “We do not need each other, Esmeralda—we enjoy each other.” The whiskey loosed a slow smile.
    Though her lips remained pressed together, she responded in kind. “A good deal of enjoying . . . as I recall.”
    “I assume you and Mia spoke.” He gentled his voice. “This is going to sound terribly intrusive, but I must know what you discussed.”
    “Besides you, or including you?”
    Studying her, Exeter exhaled. “Naturally, Mia is curious . . . about us.”
    Esmeralda pushed away from the breakfront, bringing her lips to within inches of his, but she didn’t move to caress him. At the last second she moved away. “Among other things, she asked me for the address of Etienne Artois, a well-known male prostitute—a young amoureux des femmes in Paris.”
    Exeter pivoted toward her slowly. “And your reply?”

Chapter Five
    T HE SLICE OF CHERRY TART DID NOTHING to soothe the tempest in Mia’s roiling stomach. She gathered her napkin and set it beside the slice of barely touched dessert. If she was not mistaken, Exeter appeared to be rushing dinner along.
    For a time, conversation had been lively at the table, what with talk of tomorrow’s travel itinerary—trains, the channel crossing, and a hotel suite in Calais. Even Exeter’s packing instructions caused a stir of excitement. He had advised Mr. Tandi to have several empty trunks shipped separately for the new clothing items they would return with. “At this point it is hard to estimate the length of our stay—though I suspect we will be there long enough for you to have at least one fitting, Mia.”
    Somewhere between the turtle soup and rib roast, she had caught him staring at her across the dining table . . . with angry eyes. In her youth, she knew what that coal-black stare meant. A strongly worded lecture or worse—a paddling. Oddly enough, a vivid recollection of one of his paddlings caused a flush of heat to rise from her chest to her cheeks. Good Lord, the thought was—titillating.
    As shocking and disturbing as the changes taking place inside her were, something else had shifted these past few months. Her feelings for Doctor Exeter had transmogrified, as well. She no longer thought of him as her guardian—far, far from it.
    Exeter was the first to stand. “Brandy in my study.” He nodded briefly to the ladies at table, yet his gaze lingered on her. “You may join us, as well, Mia.”
    The pounding of her heart doubled the pace of her footsteps as she was escorted down the polished parquet floors leading to the doctor’s study.
    What was this all about? Exeter had stayed behind to talk to, or have relations with, his mistress. She had a sneaking suspicion it was the former. One, because that was the way Exeter was, controlling to a fault. It was his forte, as well as his favorite pastime, to nose about in her business. If it was possible to huff or harrumph