The marriage settlement had made all the difference between a careful existence and a luxurious one. Thanks to Horace, her first husband, Alicia was one of the wealthiest women in
Horace’s most trusted men of business, a pair of bachelor brothers whom she’d brought to England to hammer out the marriage contract, had taught their English counterparts a thing or two about American ingenuity. They’d made sure that Alicia remained a woman of means—living largely on the interest from her investments—while the vast majority of her wealth was put in settlements for any future children.
The Earl of Selwood would get enough of her money to make marriage to an American mongrel tolerable, but the bulk of her fortune would remain tied in a series of clever knots, forever beyond his reach.
The rapacious brothers had done an admirable job securing her wealth, but her person would still be the legal chattel of her new husband.
Alicia, idiot that she was, hadn’t believe that taking Edward as her lord and master was anything to fear. After all, he was the consummate bloodless, emotionless aristocrat. Or so she’d believed.
“—and they say Byerly will remain there for the foreseeable future. Have you heard anything about it, Alicia?”
The sound of her name jarred her from her trancelike state. She saw she’d poured a cup of tea without realizing it and looked up.
“I beg your pardon?”
He waved an admonishing finger at her. “You were gathering wool! But I will repeat it, because it is a delicious piece of gossip. Byerly has fled the country.”
The cup and saucer rattled in her hand.
“Ah,” he said, leaning forward to take the cup and saucer, his long cool fingers brushing against hers. But not inadvertently. Never that.
“Oh, has he?” she said carefully, pouring her own cup with more care than was expended in the crowning of a king.
“Yes, it seems he is utterly below the hatches. He’s gone to Paris, of course, like so many others who’ve lost their shirts in the current environment.”
Alicia gestured to the biscuit tray.
“I’d better not.” He laid one hand on his flat abdomen, stroking it with a sensual gesture, the inappropriate motion designed with only one intention in mind: to draw her gaze to his lower body. But Alicia never let her eyes dip below his. “I’ve been putting on my winter layer of fat, I’m afraid.” He lifted his cup, his mouth a moue of self-reproach. “Lord knows how I’ll find a way to work it all off in the city.” He sighed. “Oh how I miss the vigorous exercise I am able to take while down at The Willows. You must recall those times? We did enjoy ourselves, didn’t we?” His teeth flashed. “I do miss those long, hard rides we enjoyed so often—until we were both lathered and sore.”
Acid surged up her throat, almost choking her. Her cup clattered as she set it down on the tray and she stood.
David was on his feet and beside her in an instant.
“Is everything all right, Alicia?” He gazed down at her with concern puckering his forehead. But his eyes glinted with barely suppressed glee. She’d forgotten how tall he was, almost as tall as Gormley, but nowhere as big or broad.
“I just remembered I invited Lady Constance to come over before dinner, to help Elizabeth settle in.” She swallowed, giving him a cool smile—or at least the best she could muster. “I’m having a dinner party to celebrate her arrival.”
He grinned, fully aware of her lie. “How charming—I haven’t seen darling Connie in ages. Perhaps I might make the time to come over and—” he hesitated and her heart stuttered. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, the only overt sign of the amusement he was deriving from torturing her. “But, no—I’m afraid I cannot make it today. Perhaps later in the week, if I should have a moment to come up for air?”
“Of course, that would be delightful.” It would never come about. That, at least, she could see to.
He caught her hand before she could snatch up her gloves and reticule. His skin was soft but the power in his long elegant fingers was latent. He raised her hand all the way to his mouth, lowering his lips to her skin, his eyes holding hers as his lips parted and the slick point of his tongued dragged slowly across the sensitive skin.
Alicia couldn’t help the shudder that wracked her body and his lips curved into a boyish—almost innocent—smile. But his eyes promised something else. Dark things. For her.
∞∞∞
Joss was staring out the sitting room window, absently watching the activity on the street below when he heard the door open. It was Lady Selwood, and her face was even paler than usual, her blue eyes huge, her pupils pinpricks. He strode toward her, his hands out, without thinking, only stopping when a man appeared beside her.
The stranger—Lord Selwood, obviously—smiled and glanced from Joss to Lady Selwood. He chuckled for some reason. “Ah,” he said, laying a hand on Lady Selwood’s shoulder, not appearing to notice how she flinched at the touch. “I can guess why you brought this strapping lad with you.”
Joss kept his face expressionless at the word lad, disappointed in himself that he would even allow such a thing to rankle. But that’s what came of entertaining thoughts above one’s self.
The earl turned a wide, jovial smile on him. “I gather you will serve as my sister’s trusty steed? Her valiant mount.” He grinned from Joss to the woman beside him, his amusement bearing an odd, uncomfortable edge.
Joss hesitated, unable to read his employer’s face. “Yes, my lord.”
Lord Selwood rocked back on his heels as if elated by his answer. “Excellent. Well, I shall say my goodbyes now, Alicia. Lizzy and I already had our parting last night, before her bedtime.” He bent down to kiss her cheek. Joss noticed how her body went wooden and wondered if the other man noticed it, too. But if he did, he didn’t appear to care.
He turned to Joss and gave him a brief nod. “Have a care with my sister, er—”
“Gormley, sir.”
The tall lord nodded, his handsome face wreathed with good humor. “Ah, yes, well, be careful with my sister, she is very precious to me.” He cut one last look at Lady Selwood and was gone.
Joss risked a quick look at his mistress’s face, but she had already turned to go.
Outside, standing in the hall, was the butler.
The three of them went up one more flight of steps and to a door at the very end of the hall.
Beamish opened the door without knocking and Lady Selwood went inside, Beamish behind her. Joss hovered outside in the hall, listening to sounds of female excitement, laughter, and raised voices.
He was wondering what he was supposed to do when Beamish’s head popped around the door jam.
“Inside, man, inside,” he hissed.
Joss entered the room and saw Lady Selwood crouched low in front of somebody in a chair—a young girl, by the look of it.
The girl saw him first, and then Lady Selwood turned. Joss stopped as though somebody had hit him in the head with a plank. He had always thought his mistress the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but he had never before seen her smile, at least not like this, an open, joyous grin, her pale blue eyes sparkling her white skin flushed with pleasure, her red lips curled into a smile. Some part of his brain noticed her teeth, which he realized he’d never seen bared so openly. One of her canines was chipped and shorter than its partner.
A charming imperfection.
“Gormley, this is Lady Elizabeth, my daughter.”
Joss saw the girl was staring at him and dropped a hasty bow.
“Hello Mr. Gormley. Mama says you are to have the arduous task of carrying me about during my visit?” Brown eyes sparkled up at him and Joss realized the girl bore a striking resemblance to the man he’d just met. Like the earl she was tall and fine-boned. But she had an unhealthy puffiness around her face that spoke of a sedentary lifestyle, or perhaps illness.
“It will be my pleasure, Lady Elizabeth.”
The girl had a delightful, infectious laugh that made his lips twitch.
“Oh, you did not mention how gallant he was, Mama.”
“He is, isn’t he? Perhaps that is because Mr. Gormley is a fan of reading plays and poetry and always keeps a volume in his pocket.” Lady Selwood gave him an amused arch look—as if daring him to deny it or expecting him to look ashamed.
Lady Elizabeth clapped her hands. “But that is delightful! I adore plays and poetry but Mama will have none of it.” She smiled shyly. “Tell me, what have you been reading today?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t bring anything with me, my lady.”
“Well, it was very wicked of Mama to share that information, for now I shall be ringing for you to haul me up and down the stairs all day, just to discuss books.”
Both women laughed at whatever they saw on his face—which had already heated at all the unexpected attention.
“We are embarrassing him,” the girl said, her tone one of exaggerated confidence.
Lady Selwood stood. “Yes, we are. And it is also time to go.” She turned to Beamish. “Her trunks have been loaded?”
“Yes, my lady, as well as Her Ladyship’s spare chair.”
Lady Selwood turned to Joss. “Lady Elizabeth’s condition makes it difficult for her to walk but she can still feel pain. Do be careful.”
The girl shook her head. “Don’t let her frighten you Mr. Gormley, I’m not a piece of fine china.” She pushed the wheels of her chair and rolled toward him, smiling her sunny smile. “I am ready, sir.”
Joss felt humbled by her good humor in the face of her condition. He slid an arm beneath her knees and another between her back and the chair and lifted her.
She looked up at him, sliding an arm around his neck to steady herself, obviously accustomed to being carried this way. “I am terribly sorry, I know I am not a feather. Am I too heavy for you?”
“You are not heavy,” he said. She was no lightweight like Lady Selwood, but certainly nothing Joss couldn’t manage.
“You are too kind.” She had a smile that made him want to smile.
By the time he’d gone down two flights of stairs and out to the street he was perspiring a little and the freezing wind felt good.
The footman had the door to the carriage open.
It was a bit of a trick to get her through the narrow door and into the carriage without jostling her, but when he’d finished, she gave him another smile and the carriage seemed to warm. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, my lady.” Joss realized after he said it that he wasn’t lying.
He handed in Lady Selwood.
“You will ride on the box, Gormley,” she said, coolly.
Ah, dismissed.
“Yes, my lady.” Joss closed the door, her words putting him firmly back in his place.
Chapter Thirteen
Joss immediately learned that Lady Elizabeth was serious about discussing books..
He brought her down to dinner her first night but the youngest footman, Hiram, transported her to her quarters afterward. The girl was not as heavy as she liked to believe and any of the male servants could have carried her the short distances she required. But, it seemed she had decided it would be Lady Selwood’s prose-and-poetry-reading groom she would call on most often.
When she rang for him the following day, he was helping Carling with one of the new carriage horses and, as a result, was covered in hair and sweat.
“Hurry up and go change, Gormley,” the older man had said, “I’ll get Byron to finish this. Go on,” he’d urged when Joss hesitated.
Even changing quickly and washing only his hands and face, it still took him half an hour to answer her summons.
When he arrived at her chambers it was to find not the girl, but Lady Selwood waiting for him. Judging by the expression on her face, she was not pleased by the delay.
“When Lady Elizabeth summons you, you will come immediately.” She didn’t raise her voice, but her accent seemed to subtly change, to become more . . . foreign.
Joss bowed his head. “Of course, my lady. I apologize.”
He could hear something tapping and realized it was her foot. “What took you so long?”
“I was in the stables helping Mr. Carling with the horses. I had to, er, change out of my leathers.”
The tapping stopped. “Oh, I see,” she said, her tone both embarrassed and grudging. “Well, for the duration of my daughter’s stay you are to place yourself at her service. That means you are to dress accordingly and present yourself to Mr. Feehan every morning—I doubt Lady Elizabeth will want you before ten o’clock, but be ready, all the same.” She hesitated, her jaw working slightly and the telltale flush that colored her cheekbones told him she was not entirely comfortable. And why would that be, he wondered? Did she not like chiding him—disciplining him—after what he’d done to her body?
The thought almost made him smile. He was so pathetic that even being scolded by her was enough to make him harden.
She met his gaze, her cheeks almost fiery. “In fact, I would have you tell Mr. Carling he should not count on your services for the foreseeable future. Is that understood, Gormley?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She stared up at him as if waiting for something.
Joss stared back.
She cleared her throat. “Very well, then. She is in the library, where Hiram has carried her. Go to her and see if she has need of you.” She turned on her heel, not waiting for his response.
Joss could not resist watching her receding figure. Her anger seemed excessive to the occasion and sometimes he felt there were emotional currents at work that he couldn’t see.
Joss snorted. She was a woman, there were always emotional currents.
“Well, didn’t you get a right bollocking.”
Joss turned at the sound of Annie’s voice.
She was dressed in her maid’s uniform and wearing a smirk. “I guess being Her Ladyship’s pet means you get the lash more often than the rest of us lowly mortals.”
Joss ignored her digs. “Which room is the library?”
She stepped closer and took his hand.
Joss pulled away and glanced around. “What the devil are you about, Annie? Trying to get us both sacked?”
“I was only going to take you to the library,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence.
She hardly needed to take his hand to do that, but Joss forbore pointing that out. “Will you show me or do I need to find somebody else?”
She huffed but started walking. “You’re no fun, do you know that Mister Jocelyn Gormley.”
“I know.”
She made a disgusted clucking sound. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
She spun around and slapped his face—hard—the motion so fast it was a blur. Joss was momentarily ashamed by how poor his reflexes were now that he no longer boxed.
“You’re a bastard!” she hissed. “Always thinkin’ you’re so much finer than the rest of us just because you wear those fancy clothes and do whatever you like.”
Joss wondered if he had a handprint on his face. “I’m sorry, Annie, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know I’m a servant.” Did he ever. “I also know this is my job—my livelihood, and yours. We’d best not be seen chattering or holding hands,” his lips twitched, “or slapping each other.”
She narrowed her eyes, turned with a flounce, and resumed her journey.
The library was on the second floor and seemed to take up one side of the long hall.
“You wait here,” Annie said. She knocked, opened the door, and stepped inside, dropping a curtsy. “Gormley to see you, my lady.”
“Oh, good. Tell him to come in—thank you Annie.”
Annie motioned Joss inside, rubbing her body against his on her way out.
Lady Elizabeth sat in a chair beside the fireplace and was smiling at him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gormley.”
“Good afternoon, my lady.”
She made a beckoning motion with one hand
. “Come, sit down beside me and help me with my list.”
Joss took the chair she indicated.
“Here,” she handed him a piece of parchment.
It was a list of titles, some novels, some books of verse. Joss looked up. “I don’t understand, my lady. How can I help?”
“You could give me some of your own suggestions.”
Joss stared.
“Oh.” She sat back in her chair, her smile dimming a little. “You think me odd.” He opened his mouth to deny it but she shook her head. “No, it’s quite all right: I am odd. I’m afraid being in the country by myself most of the time has made me that way.” Her mouth pulled into a lopsided smile. “The only people I see every day are servants.” Her round cheeks tinted pink, making her look younger. “They are my only friends. I spend time in the kitchen with Cook, Mr. Higgins takes me to the stables—or at least he used to, before my special gig went in for repairs, and—” She stopped abruptly, her expression momentarily stricken before she shook her head.
“In any case, most of them have known me since I was born, so they tolerate my foibles—if they even notice them.” She bit her lip, her brown eyes imploring. “Ever since Miss Tate left—my governess—I’ve had nobody to discuss books with.”
Joss couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Does Lady Selwood not like discussing books?”
Lady Elizabeth’s sandy eyebrows descended. “You know, she is not a great reader.” Her gaze flickered to Joss. “I know there are many people who do not enjoy reading, but . . .”
“But you are not one of them,” Joss finished for her.
“No.” She grinned. “And neither are you, I think.”
This conversation—sitting in this room, surrounded by books—was beyond anything Joss had ever experienced as a servant.
Well, except for those two nights with the mistress of the house, of course.
So, it was now part of his job to discuss books with the sister of an earl? What if he said the wrong thing—disagreed with her? Or mentioned something. . . inappropriate?
“You needn’t, you know.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2) Page 13