Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  The others laughed outright and even Alicia bit back a smile.

  Charles flushed and looked uncertainly from Alicia, to the banker, who was studiously avoiding the viscount’s eyes. Alicia could guess what that meant: Charles had already outlived his welcome—and his credit—at Lord Delmore’s tables.

  Charles stared at her, as if expecting her to offer to frank him.

  “Well, are you in or out, Byerly?” Beckingdon demanded testily.

  Byerly crossed his arms. “I believe I shall just watch for a while.”

  “Fine, see that you do so with your mouth closed.”

  Alicia continued to win, as did the duke, which helped to ease his frown. Charles, on the other hand, became more and more restless and when the table broke for supper he hovered, waiting for her. But Alicia had had enough.

  “I’m finished for the evening,” she told the duke, who appeared to be waiting to take her in to supper, also. How awkward.

  The older man shot Charles a filthy look and then nodded, taking her hand and bowing over it. “You are a superlative player, my lady and I enjoyed it. I shall see you at Christmas.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Alicia and Charles watched him walk away and then Alicia gathered up her winnings. Charles eyed her money with embarrassing desperation.

  “Here, Charles,” she picked up his hand and placed the roll of flimsies into the middle of his palm, closing his fingers around it. She collected her reticule and nodded to Gormley, who stood by the doorway, watching and waiting. She took a few steps toward him but Charles’s hand stopped her.

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and then puckered his lips and leaned toward her, as if to kiss her.

  She recoiled. “Never in public.”

  “I just wanted to thank you.” He looked as petulant as he sounded and Alicia knew he’d had far too much to drink to talk reasonably. She realized Gormley had crossed the room, his massive body taut and coiled, his eyes locked on Charles. She gave a slight shake of her head and he hesitated and frowned but stepped aside.

  “Good night, Charles.”

  She expected him to come after her and did not relax the set of her shoulders until she was again inside the carriage.

  As they rumbled down Delmore’s poorly maintained driveway Alicia asked herself why she had come.

  She ignored the answer her brain provided, but her willful eyes sought out her servant, catching glimpses of Gormley’s harsh features as shafts of moonlight flickered through the window.

  ∞∞∞

  At first Joss thought they might make the journey home in peace and quiet.

  He’d seen she was distracted, if not exactly upset, by the appearance of her current lover.

  Byerly had looked rough and ragged and he’d taken the money she’d offered like a man grasping at a lifeline. Joss rarely wagered, but he would place all the money he had on the odds of Byerly leaving Delmore’s house without a penny of Lady Selwood’s money left in his pocket.

  Her voice interrupted his internal wagering.

  “Was that your first journey to a gaming hell, Gormley?”

  “No, my lady. Although I’ve never been to one in an aristocrat’s house.”

  “Oh, where did you go?”

  He hesitated.

  “A brothel, perhaps?”

  Joss blinked. Now, why would she have said that?

  “I daresay there are not many differences between one hell and another,” she continued, apparently deciding to leave the subject of brothels alone. “But what did you think?”

  “The stakes were considerably higher, my lady.”

  “Oh, is that so?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yes, my lady.” At any given time there had been at least a thousand pounds on that table. She’d played as if they were pennies. He estimated she had won at least two thousand in the course of the evening. And then she had given it all to that louse.

  “You disapprove of me giving my winnings to Lord Byerly.” Her chuckle was velvety and mysterious in the near blackness of the carriage. “I could see it in your face. You are, in general, a difficult man to read, Gormley. But you were as open as … a book when I put the money in his hand. Tell me, what were you thinking at that moment? I would like to know.”

  Joss snorted softly.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t think you would like what I was thinking, my lady.” He wanted to take the words back, but of course he couldn’t.

  She leaned forward, until her face was only inches away. “You were angry—you are still angry.”

  “Very well, my lady. You are correct, I am angry.”

  She sat back, and he was again facing the darkness. “Why is that?”

  Joss rolled his eyes.

  “I saw that, Gormley.”

  He gaped. “It’s dark in here, how—”

  “I have the eyes of a cat.” He heard the smile in her voice. “But you were saying?”

  Fine, she wanted his opinion, she could have it. “There must have been almost two thousand pounds in that roll.”

  He heard the rustle of silk and knew she’d shrugged. “Closer to three. What of it?”

  Could she really not understand? “That is a fortune and he will lose it. All of it—and most likely tonight.”

  A sigh came out of the darkness. “Yes, I believe you are right. It is quite sad.”

  “Sad?” he demanded before he could stop himself.

  “What would you call it?”

  “I would call it foolish to the point of criminal.”

  They both knew he did not mean Byerly’s gambling, but her giving him the money. Joss knew he should shut his mouth, but the box had been opened and the contents could not be shoved back inside.

  “That is more than a well-paid servant will make in a decade, my lady.”

  The carriage was heavy with silence and Joss thought he had finally stepped over the line.

  He expected to be scolded—at the very least—but, instead, she sighed. “You are correct of course. There were many other better uses for the money.” Her eyes glinted in the darkness. “Tell me, how would you spend three thousand pounds, Mr. Gormley?”

  Joss looked away, unnerved now that he knew her vision was so keen. She could see him, but he could not see her. He did not like it. “I don’t know, my lady.”

  She chuckled. “That was a lie. But you do not owe me such confidences. I will make you a promise, Gormley.” She paused. “Don’t you wish to know what it is?” she asked.

  He couldn’t help smiling, even though he was still more than a little angry and frustrated.

  She spoke before he could answer, “The next time I gamble I’ll give you my winnings. But only if you confide in me how you will spend it.”

  “But what if you lose, my lady?”

  She laughed. “I shouldn’t worry about that if I were you, Mr. Gormley.”

  “Are you really that lucky, my lady?”

  “No, I’m really that good.”

  This time Joss kept his opinion to himself, not that it seemed to matter.

  “I can hear your skepticism.”

  It was his turn to chuckle. “Are you a mind-reader, my lady”

  “I know men.” Her tone was no longer humorous. In fact, she sounded sad. Sad and tired and resigned.

  Chapter Four

  Alicia looked at the long, pleading message penned on the heavy white paper and felt her eyes blur with the effort of reading it. Not that she needed to read it in order to discern the contents: it was the fifth missive he’d sent in as many days.

  Charles was behaving recklessly—foolishly—and she should end it. I

  She dropped the letter in disgust.

  You wouldn’t have these problems if you could just keep your knees together. It was her auntie’s voice, which seemed to have carved out a niche in her head and moved in permanently, even though her Aunt Giddy had been dead for more than two decades.

  Her
aunt had said the same thing dozens of times when she’d been alive, when Alicia had first understood how men looked at her. And that she liked their looks and the power it gave her.

  She’d been fifteen, but as tall and physically developed as she was now. More than once her aunt had threatened to tie her to a chair in the tiny room they called home.

  “A decent man won’t want a soiled dove, Allie.”

  Alicia had laughed. “I’m hardly a dove, Aunt Giddy.”

  “Oh, you’re so clever, aren’t you? Smarter than the three wise men all wrapped into one? Well let me tell you, miss, I know a sight more about men and what they want than you do. And the only thing most of ‘em are interested in is to scratch their itches with that thing you’ve got tucked between your legs. And once they’ve scratched it?” She’d shrugged, leaving the conclusion up to Alicia’s younger self’s active imagination.

  Alicia remembered wanting to ask her aunt about her itches and why it didn’t matter what Alicia needed scratching. Also, why could the itch only be scratched once? And why was getting it scratched so very bad?

  Of course she’d asked none of those things.

  Her aunt’s words had worried her enough to convince Alicia to keep her knees together—and she had continued to do so until the day she married. No decent man will want you if you are soiled. And if no decent man wanted her, well what would she have then?

  She looked up at the sound of knocking on her boudoir door.

  “Come.”

  Maude, stood in the doorway, pinched faced and disapproving. “You wanted Gormley?”

  “Drat.” Alicia had forgotten she’d rung for the man. “Have him wait in my study. I’ll have a message for him to deliver in a moment.”

  Her maid hmmphed and closed the door with a pointed click. Sometimes Alicia thought her life would be more pleasant if she discharged the sour-faced, judgmental older woman, but of course she never would.

  Something about Maude reminded her of her Aunt Giddy. She often couldn’t decide if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. Yet, here was Maude, still with her after almost twenty years.

  Alicia stopped dithering and avoiding the task at hand and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, picked up her quill, and began the laborious process of drafting a message.

  ∞∞∞

  Joss had been in this study dozens of times over the past months, but only rarely had he caught a glimpse into her inner sanctum. He didn’t know much about this side of rich, titled women, but Lady Selwood’s sitting room was unlike anything that he would have imagined.

  If he’d been led in here without knowing the owner he would have said it was a man’s room.

  The floor was an unusual milk-white wood that had been buffed to a glossy shine. Scattered on top were thick, plush rugs in hundreds of shades of rich brown; Joss hadn’t realized there were so many different types of brown.

  The furniture was heavy; no gilt, no spindly carved legs, no frilled skirts, no piles of cushions. Nothing but dark wood upholstered in rich blond leather the color of her hair. It was a man’s room, or at least a room Joss would have enjoyed lounging in, if he did things like lounge.

  The door across from him opened and Lady Selwood stepped inside. She was swathed head to toe in a dressing gown of heavy cream-colored silk, a shade remarkably similar to her skin.

  The complete lack of color should have washed her out and made her insignificant. But instead it made her look stark, compelling, and achingly untouchable—all of which she was.

  She held out her hand. “Here is a message for Lord Byerly.”

  Joss closed the distance between them in three strides and took the letter. “Very good, my lady. I will go directly.” He turned to leave.

  “Gormley?”

  Joss stopped and pivoted on one heel. “Yes, my lady?”

  Her full, bloodred lips twisted slightly. “His lordship will probably want you to wait while he composes a reply,” she hesitated, a flicker of indecision crossing her usually impassive face. Joss darted a look at her eyes and found they’d gone vague.

  “Do you wish me to wait for a response, my lady?”

  She inhaled deeply, teasing his eyes to look lower, which he prudently avoided. She nodded. “You will wait if he requests it.”

  “Is there anything else, my lady?”

  Her pale eyes sharpened and focused on his. Like a moth held by a flame he could not look away.

  “Yes. Before you leave tell Cook I shall be eating at home tonight.” She turned without waiting for a response, the door closing soundlessly behind her.

  The room felt as if it had dimmed.

  “You bloody fool, Gormley,” he muttered under his breath.

  Joss took the back stairs to the first floor, deciding he would walk the distance to Lord Byerly’s house rather than take a hackney.

  In the kitchen he found a scattering of servants gathered around the battered wooden table where Cook held court when she was not laboring over the massive stove—which was most of the time since the mistress of the house was rarely at home for dinner. And when she was, she ate “barely enough to keep a bird alive” as Cook phrased it.

  “Off on a mission for Herself, are ye?” Cook always behaved more freely when Feehan was not in attendance.

  Joss nodded, looking from Cook to Annie, who sat sipping her tea, her cap on the table beside her, her brown curls mussed in a way that reminded him of that night. The way she was staring at him told him that she was thinking the same thing.

  She’d come back to his quarters again, two nights after their tussle, and he’d sent her away. The last thing he wanted was her thinking they were a couple. Judging by the yearning looks she was cutting him; he was already too late.

  “Her Ladyship will dine in tonight,” he said.

  Cook’s heavy face lightened. “Ah, good, time to earn my keep. It’s been two weeks since her last dinner. I sometimes wonder why she keeps me at all,” she muttered.

  “I’ve got a message to deliver. I’m going to walk rather than take a hack, if anyone should ask,” he told the room at large.

  Cook heaved herself to her feet. “Aye, ‘tis a beautiful day for a walk, Gormley.” She cast a glance around at the others. “Best be getting’ on with youse. Annie, you know ‘is Nibs wanted them curtains done. Hiram, that marble won’t polish itself.” She gestured to her three lounging kitchen helpers and clapped her meaty hands. “Up and ready, lazybones, we’ve got a dinner to prepare.”

  Joss left them to it, taking his overcoat from the hook by the door.

  A hand on his sleeve stopped him and he was not surprised to find Annie smiling provocatively up at him.

  “I’ve my half day tomorrow,” she said, her hands deftly tucking and pinning on the mobcap that covered her crowning glory.

  Joss knew she had a half day because they all had a half day.

  “I’m going to see my family,” he said, buttoning his coat. He could see she was struggling to say something. He sighed and picked up his hat from the table before taking her arm and leading her away from the bustling entrance to the kitchen.

  “Annie, that was one time. I never said it would be more.”

  She pressed closer, her breast soft and warm on his arm. “But you never said it wouldn’t, either.”

  Joss couldn’t help smiling at her persistence, a mistake, because she took his rare smile for encouragement. She caught his sleeve. “A few of us are meeting up before coming back here. You know, just a friendly pint or two.”

  Joss knew. He’d been avoiding servant socializing since he’d been hired. It had taken a few weeks, but finally the men had stopped asking him. He knew they thought he was high in the instep because he didn’t gossip about his mistress, wouldn’t meet at a pub, wouldn’t talk about his past.

  “Please?”

  He looked down and wanted to curse at the pleading expression in her eyes. It was the same look women always got. Well, the same look unmarried women always got, at least: that
marrying look.

  “Just an hour? What could an hour hurt?”

  Joss worked his jaw from left to right, willing his lips to form the word no.

  “Fine,” he said, gently tugging away his sleeve. “An hour.”

  She grinned as if he’d just promised her the crown jewels with the moon and stars to go with them.

  “Now, I’ve got to go—and so do you or you’ll get a proper raking.”

  She giggled but moved away.

  Joss shook his head and headed for the door. It wasn’t that Annie wasn’t a nice girl, it was that he had a rule. One woman, one night. Never twice. He couldn’t risk becoming entangled with a woman who would resent the care his sister would require—that was a promise he’d made to himself years ago, when their mother had left them.

  So he’d lived by his “one night” rule for years, ever since leaving Melissa’s and taking a proper job.

  The rule had worked well for him at Lord Easton’s London house, a position he enjoyed greatly—until Lord Easton’s daughter had begun casting languishing looks in Joss’s direction.

  He snorted; he’d escaped from adolescent infatuation and tears by the skin of his teeth and now he’d jeopardized his new position with his own foolishness. Not that Annie was seventeen or a viscount’s daughter. She was in her early twenties for all that she was behaving like a schoolroom chit.

  Joss pushed the aggravation from his mind and enjoyed the weather, which was sunny and unexpectedly warm for this time of year.

  He tossed a penny to a street sweeper and turned left on North Audley Street.

  He’d not thought to still be in London at Christmas, but it turned out Lady Selwood would not go to the country this year.

  That meant Joss would be able to spend some part of the holidays with his family.

  Of course Michael and Gordon had families of their own, but Belle was tied to home by both their father and her condition. Thinking of his sister’s unmarried state brought Annie back to mind.

  Joss had never understood what it was that women saw in him. He was not a handsome man, he knew that. His only attractive sibling was Michael, who’d inherited their mother’s green eyes and slight build.