Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  Gordon, Joss, and—God help her, Annabelle—all took after their father. Tall, strapping builds with big features and muddy colored eyes.

  At least Joss had inherited his mother’s thick brown hair. Both Gordon and Annabelle had wispy dusty-colored locks which, in Gordon’s case, had given way to a naked pate at the age of thirty. Thankfully the same had not happened to his poor sister, who had enough to contend with without losing her hair.

  Joss realized his mind had drifted around to Belle and forced it back to the errand at hand.

  He loathed Viscount Byerly and would have done so even had the man not been bedding Lady Selwood. Byerly represented everything Joss hated about the aristocracy. He was effete, useless, ornamental, and he had everything Joss did not: money, power, respect, and Alicia Selwood in his bed. Although he doubted Byerly would have her for much longer.

  Joss’s mouth curled into a tight smile at the thought.

  Byerly’s house was on Berkeley Square, a great block of a place that was directly across from Selwood House. Joss knew the current earl lived there when he was in town—which apparently was not right now—and he also knew from listening to servant gossip that Lady Selwood did not get along with her stepson, who was apparently something of a high stickler.

  Joss doubted Lord Selwood would take kindly to the knowledge that his father’s widow was fucking the man who lived across the square from him.

  When he reached Byerly House he went round back rather than to the front entrance, where he usually went if he had a message for somebody in a grand house. But Byerly’s house was so poorly staffed there was rarely anyone near the front door.

  He knocked, waited, and then knocked again. A maid answered just as he was about to try the front door.

  Her mouth tipped into a wicked smile as she assessed him. She appeared to be his age, her cap and gown grubby, her neck unwashed.

  Joss handed her the message. “From Lady Selwood. I’ve been instructed to wait if there is a response.”

  Her smile grew and exposed a row of teeth with several blackened. “Sure ducks.” She opened the door wider. “We’re just havin’ a cuppa.”

  Joss followed her swaying form into the kitchen. The difference between the kitchen he’d just left and this one was extreme. Slatternly looking servants of both genders surrounded the servants’ table, which was cluttered with dirty crockery and spills and stains. Joss abhorred dirt and filth; in fact, he had something of a mania for cleanliness. This kitchen made his skin crawl.

  “’Ave a seat, ‘ansome.” The maid leered up at him and handed the message to a footman wearing the dingiest livery Joss had ever seen.

  Joss glanced down at the chair in question, crumbs and other unidentifiable bits of food sticking to the hard wood seat.

  “Thank you, I’ll stand.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Ohh, crikey! I’ll stand, thank you.”

  The others chuckled at her mockery and even Joss had to smile at the apt imitation.

  She slumped into her seat and gestured to the steaming pot.

  “I just had tea,” he lied.

  She smirked, knowing his words for a lie, but not challenging him. “’Imself is in quite a taking,” an older woman said, the words an obvious gambit.

  “Is he?” Joss glanced around the dank, dimly lighted kitchen, grateful he didn’t have to eat any food that came out of it.

  The maid poured herself some inky black liquid. “Aye, ‘ee ‘ad ‘is ‘opes up for yer lady, dint ‘e? As did we all.” The others grumbled at her words and Joss could only assume wages were in arrears. He could sympathize, although he’d never been in such a situation himself. Both Lord Easton and Lady Selwood paid their servants well and on time.

  The door opened and the scruffy footman slouched back into the room. “He wants you.”

  Joss’s eyebrows shot up.

  The footman gave him an annoyed, impatient nod. “Aye, you. Now.”

  Joss followed him down the ill-lighted servant corridor and up to the second floor. The master’s hallway was no cleaner or better illuminated than that of his servants.

  The footman opened a door and jerked his thumb toward it.

  Joss stepped inside a very dim room, a study, he guessed.

  “You may go, Thomas.”

  The door closed behind him and Joss saw Viscount Byerly’s form lurking in the darkness at the far end of the room.

  “Come here,” Byerly ordered.

  Joss navigated the darkened room with care, the floor and table surfaces as cluttered as those below in the kitchen, before coming to a stop in front of the man’s heaped desk.

  Byerly looked rather worse for wear. He was, Joss had to grudgingly acknowledge, a handsome man, although the lifestyle he led was taking its toll. Lines radiated from his limpid blue eyes and deep grooves of dissipation ran from his fine, aquiline nose to his thin aristocratic lips. His skin was as pale as Lady Selwood’s, but splotched and pasty. His hair—golden blond curls that no man should have—appeared dry and brittle even in the poor light. He wore no cravat and his shirt was limp and sweat-stained, his waistcoat shapeless and grimy from too much wear.

  “You are the servant who usually accompanies Lady Selwood here.” The lord’s tone was sharp and the words were not really a question.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Byerly’s eyes flickered over him, as if searching for some sign of what he might be thinking. But Joss had been trained by the best to hide his true thoughts and Byerly’s sharp eyes found nothing.

  “Does she go to other houses—to see other men?” His voice broke on the last word. Joss should have been expecting this; should have devised a response. He hesitated, and Byerly rushed on. “I know you cannot be disloyal to your mistress, but—” he gestured helplessly with one long, pale elegant hand, the motion churning the air as if the words he sought might be floating somewhere just beyond his grasp.

  Joss stared straight ahead. “I am sorry, my lord.”

  Byerly’s jaw moved side to side, his left eye twitching. He gave an abrupt nod. “You are a good and loyal servant. I shall commend Lady Selwood on your discretion.” He motioned toward the door. “Go wait in the hall. I shall have something for you shortly.”

  Joss waited out in the hall for over an hour until Byerly summoned him.

  One of the candles had guttered out, leaving the room even darker. Joss could smell alcohol mixed with despair. He could almost feel sorry for Byerly, whose blond hair was tufted and clumped in greasy wads, as if he’d been tugging on it nonstop this past hour.

  For all the time he’d taken, he held out a single folded sheet, not bothering to seal it. No doubt he assumed Joss could not read, or at least not well enough to matter.

  Joss took the missive, bowed, and turned to leave.

  “Stop.”

  The word caught him with his hand on the door and he turned.

  “You will not tell her of my condition.” Again, it was not a question.

  Joss could have told the man that she would never ask such a question and he would never volunteer, but he didn’t.

  “I do whatever Lady Selwood tells me to do, my lord.”

  The other man snorted, his sneering lips twisting unpleasantly. “I’ll just bet you do. Now get the hell out.”

  Chapter Five

  Joss wished, for the hundredth time, he had not agreed to meet Annie at the Crown and Shield. He fisted his hands in his coat—not the black wool he worked in, but his far less elegant brown rough weave, which he’d been so proud of when he’d bought all those years ago—and hunched his shoulders against the blast of cold; it seemed winter was officially here.

  He’d enjoyed his afternoon at his father’s house. Belle had been cheerful and excited about the coming holiday, her homely face creased with a smile when he showed up on the doorstep.

  “Oh, Joss!” She’d thrown her arms around him, hugging him close. “I’m so glad you are here.” She drew back and looked up at him, her eyes—a dr
ab brownish green like his—sparkling and pretty. “You look good.”

  “And you, too,” he said, not needing to lie. She did look good, her fine hair skillfully dressed to soften, rather than hide, some of the worst scars on her jaws and forehead.

  “I brought these for Father.” He handed her the package of sugar plums he’d bought. Their father, who’d become more and more childlike, seemed to brighten up for sweets.

  “He will be so happy! Although I shall have to take care he does not eat them all at once.” She took his hat. “We were beginning to worry you might not come.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Belle. My hackney got held up behind an accident and I just decided to walk.” He shrugged out of his coat and handed her the scarf she’d knitted him for Christmas last year. It was a beautiful black and gray checked thing that he greatly treasured. Belle knew better than anyone how much he liked fine things.

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” she’d said, casting a furtive glance toward the kitchen.

  Joss grimaced. Their brother Michael’s wife, Susan, could be a chore. Especially toward Belle, whose position as mistress of the house she would take once their father died. “Is she—”

  Belle shook her head. “Nothing I cannot manage,” she said, smiling.

  Joss knew there were no doubt countless petty slights his sister endured without complaint, but he could see she did not wish to discuss it. “I’ve got to leave a bit early,” he warned, following her toward the sound of his family’s voices.

  She grinned up at him. “Oh? Someone special.”

  “No, just a drink with the mates.”

  “That’s not like you, Joss.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m making an effort; they’re thinking I’m top-lofty.”

  “Then they’d be right, wouldn’t they?”

  “Cheeky wench,” he muttered.

  She chuckled and he opened the door to his family’s warm, cozy kitchen.

  “Joss!” Michael, his most demonstrative sibling, came to embrace him. “You’re looking as ugly as ever,” he said.

  “Aye, and you as pretty.”

  After that, Joss had been swept into the fold of his loud, boisterous family. He kept busy dandling nieces and nephews, listening to the mild marital squabbles, mostly good natured, between his brothers and their wives, and answering his father’s polite questions about who he was and why he was there. The hours had passed quickly and all too soon it was time to leave.

  Now, as he approached the glowing, fogged window of the Crown, he wished he had the bollocks to just head home. If he went back to his room now, he’d be able to relax and enjoy some peace before changing back into his work clothes. His half-day was over at ten o’clock. Most weeks Her Ladyship did not need him on Sunday night, but he was to be prepared in case she summoned him.

  He hesitated and had just taken a step back from the heavy oak door when a voice came from behind him.

  “Gormley, ye bastard!”

  Joss started and turned to find Mr. Carling approaching.

  His lips curved into a smile. He liked the bluff, older man, who was his superior in the hierarchy of Lady Selwood’s household, but never made a point of it.

  “Good evening, Mr. Carling.”

  “Come to rub shoulders with the likes of us mortals? Or to rub other things with the likes of Annie?”

  Joss’s face heated just like a boy at the other man’s good-natured ribbing. He sighed, shook his head, and opened the door to the pub, the Carling’s laughter booming around him as they entered the heat and noise.

  ∞∞∞

  “It’s been an age since I saw you, Alicia. Tell me, you secretive wretch, why are you staying in the city over Christmas?”

  Alicia looked away from her reflection at the sound of Lady Constance de Veaux’s question. They were in her dressing room, where Alicia was running late thanks to yet another urgent message from Byerly.

  “I’m staying because Selwood sent me a letter last month saying he was bringing Lizzy to town for the first time.”

  Connie’s rather plain face lit up at the news. “How wonderful! When? You must be thrilled to pieces to see her.”

  “I am. I’d thought we’d be forced to interact only by letter until next summer. Selwood has not said yet when they will arrive.” Just another way to bait and torment her.

  “I’m thrilled for you, but why is he bringing her here in winter of all times?”

  “Selwood has come early for some session-related business and the countess is spending the holidays with her family. There was water damage to The Willows from that dreadful storm last month and Selwood decided the workmen need Lizzy out. You know I’ve not had many opportunities to see her since the earl moved into the house.”

  Connie did not need to have the matter spelled out. She knew that Lizzy lived at the country seat of the Earls of Selwood and Alicia could hardly visit the house unless she received an invitation. And of course her stepson, the current earl, delighted in depriving her of one.

  “And he will let you see Elizabeth on Christmas?”

  Alicia screwed the pearl-drop earring into her left lobe and sat back. Yes, these would do quite nicely. She liked the bold look of the onyx and pearl together and the way they complemented her gown, a cream and black confection Madam Silvi had fought tooth-and-nail, until she’d finally seen the unusual design made up to Alicia’s specifications. The earrings were inexpensive but she liked them because she had chosen them for herself. Buying her own jewelry might seem unimportant, but it was one of the things she enjoyed about being her own woman. No longer did she have to tolerate a man branding her with his choices.

  Alicia realized Connie was waiting for an answer. “Selwood has promised to let me bring her here at Christmas and keep her until The Willows is again fit for habitation.”

  Connie’s eyes widened. “Goodness, that’s hardly like him, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Alicia didn’t say what she was thinking: that she’d believe her stepson would let her keep Lizzy when it actually happened.

  “Whatever have you done to make him so obliging?”

  Alicia clasped on her bracelet and stood. “There, I am finally ready. I’m sorry for being so dreadfully late.”

  Connie’s eyes flickered over her and she shook her head, forgetting that Alicia had not answered her question. “Lord, I should hate you.”

  Alicia laughed.

  “Oh, you can laugh, you don’t have to stand beside somebody who looks like you and watch men’s faces,” Connie said, pulling on her gloves.

  “And you don’t have to endure the constant snubs of their wives.”

  Lady Constance chortled. “Yes, well there is that.”

  Tonight the two of them were going to a dinner party at the Earl of Broughton’s house.

  “I do wish you’d reconsider and join us at the theater after dinner,” Connie said after they’d settled themselves into Alicia’s luxurious coach.

  Alicia smiled across at her friend. “Alas, darling, I’m not as youthful as you. I need my beauty sleep if I’m not to look a fright.”

  “Oh what bosh! You couldn’t look a fright if you tried. I know we are all younger than you, Alicia, but we are hardly children. Cynthia and Elinor will be there.” She hesitated, and then added, “Piers will be there, too, and I know you enjoy his company.”

  Piers was the young Duke of Sunderland. Alicia did enjoy his company; indeed, she’d considered accepting his bold advances when she’d decided to take a lover. But she had seen the occasional, yearning look Connie cast at the gorgeous aristocrat. Her friend probably didn’t even recognize her own attraction, but Alicia certainly did.

  The two young people were delightful and would make a charming couple. If Alicia stayed away from Piers then perhaps he might recognize the treasure that was right in front of him and see that his childhood friend was the woman he really wanted.

  And so Alicia said, “Maybe next time, Connie.”


  “You always say that.”

  “Tell me,” Alicia said, not-so-subtly changing the subject, “Do you believe the rumor that Lady Broughton is having an affair with that handsome blond footman?”

  It was the perfect distraction and the subject of Alicia and her evening did not come up again.

  ∞∞∞

  Joss grimaced. The night had been the mistake he’d known it would be.

  Annie had rubbed up on him like a bitch in heat from the moment he’d entered the pub. When he made it plain he wasn’t interested she’d become sulky and spiteful. And then she’d turned her attention toward the new footman, William, a boy a few years younger than Annie and star-struck by her sudden interest.

  When she’d understood that Joss was relieved rather than jealous, she’d become argumentative. He knew it was likely the alcohol talking as the girl had consumed at least two pints in his company and had been there before him.

  As the evening wore on, Joss felt guiltier and guiltier about bedding her. She might be only a year or so younger than Joss, but she was decades younger in experience. He wished she had some male relative to keep her from throwing herself away—or, even worse—getting herself pregnant and discharged.

  But that was hardly his business.

  When Carling threw back the last of his third pint and said something about her ladyship coming home earlier tonight, Joss leapt at the excuse to leave.

  The cold air felt good after the stifling, hot, sweaty pub.

  “You’d best stay away from that one,” Carling said as they both hunkered low and walked fast.

  Joss just snorted.

  “If she ain’t got a bun in the oven yet, she soon will have.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked, wondering if Carling had been the one to put it there—or was considering it. He’d thought the older man happily married, but people were a constant source of surprise.

  The stable master shrugged his bull-like shoulders. “I know it because I’ve seen it before. Girl comes from the country, loses her bearings, spreads her thighs, and then,” he snapped his fingers, the sound a loud crack in the frigid air. “She finds herself without a job and on the street. Happens all the time.”