5
Martin leaned back in the chair, sipping the tea the shopgirl had brought him. He had sat in this chair on more than one occasion, watching his mistresses try on gowns, flashing saucy grins or batting their lashes, hoping for extra boots or kid gloves. He had smiled back and given in, buying the lady whatever she desired.
Mrs. Benson was right. This was different.
Livvy was innocent and sweet, but not a woman easily pushed. He liked that. He’d never been attracted to women who bowed and scraped in deference to men.
His gaze turned to the changing screen when a flash of movement caught his eye. Mrs. Benson emerged, smiling broadly as she waved a coaxing hand at Livvy. As she exited the shield of the screen and stepped out onto the platform in front of the mirrors, his breath caught. H
