Mary And The Marquis

He wants me as his whore. He is no better than Simon. As his grip loosened, Mary snatched her wrist free and backed out of his reach. She whirled to face him.

‘Just because I am a widow you gentlemen seem to believe I exist simply to slake your thirst. Well, I don’t! Do you hear me? I shall never...’

She paused, willing her voice not to wobble. ‘I am a respectable woman and I beg leave to inform you I resent your...your...insinuation...that I might have behaved immorally with Mr Wendo— with my employer. He was a lovely gentleman and extraordinarily kind to me and my...my...Michael. I...’

To her horror, tears blurred her vision. She had never imagined Mr Wendover’s kindness to her could be so badly misconstrued. Her breath juddered, loud in her ears. She must get out of here. She ran to the door.

‘Mary...wait...’

She ignored him, slamming the door behind her.

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