Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  He propped himself onto his elbow. “Good God, my lady. I’m—I’m sorry.”

  But the tears kept coming faster.

  She shook her head back and forth, chuckling, a watery embarrassed sound. “No,” she said, her eyes opening, tears still falling. “It is I who should apologize.” She grabbed his hand and lifted it to her cheek. “That felt lovely; please don’t stop.”

  Joss could only stare.

  ∞∞∞

  Alicia felt like a bloody fool. But his kindness had undone her, had unlaced her control like stays that had been too tight for too long. And now she could not lace herself up again.

  How could she ever have believed that she shared a background with this man? His poor background had somehow made him kind, gentle, and good while hers had made her manipulative, greedy, and suspicious.

  “Have you ever thought of going to America?”

  He looked as surprised as she felt at the question, his eyebrows lowering, forehead furrowed. “No, I’ve not considered it,” he hesitated. “Which is not to say I would not consider it.”

  She saw the question in his eyes and cursed her impulsive question.

  “Are you thinking of returning?” he asked.

  Right now she was. She was thinking of grabbing Lizzy and this man and running as fast and far as she could. With her money their lives would be luxurious wherever they went. But such an action would make her a criminal—and she knew David would come after Lizzy. She couldn’t do that to her daughter, the only person she loved.

  So she said, “Not now, maybe someday.”

  “Do you miss it? America?”

  “Sometimes I do.”

  His hand gently stroked her throat, her shoulders, and then settled on one breast. “Tell me something about it,” he said, his big thumb caressing her nipple and making it tight and hard.

  Oh, the things she could tell him.

  “It’s difficult to convey the sheer overwhelmingness of it. It is the opposite of Britain, in which every square inch has been struggled over, marked, owned, and known for generations.

  “In America the frontier is immense and unknown. At least by Europeans. England is like—” Alicia struggled to describe the sense of weight, expectation, and restraint she felt in this country. “England is like a very old painting, darkened by age, heavy with years. America is an unfinished sketch.”

  He pulled her closer. “You’re a poet.” He was smiling at her and it made her smile in return.

  “What happened to your tooth?” he asked, and then flushed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

  She took his beard-roughened jaw in her hand. “We are lovers, Joss. Lovers should ask each other things.” Not that she would answer all his questions. “Besides, it’s nothing deep and dark,” not like so many of her other secrets. “I was playing with other children—they were all older than me and tried to leave me behind. But I followed them. They’d built themselves a fort, the way children do, and it was in a rickety old building. I was climbing the rotting stairs when one broke.” She shrugged. “I was lucky to do no more than chip a tooth.”

  “You grew up in the city?”

  “Yes, in New York City.” Flashes of two New Yorks flickered through her mind: the grim streets of her youth and the gilded mansions of her married life. Two different worlds entirely.

  “You said you had no siblings. Did you have other family?”

  “My Aunt Giddy raised me.” She hesitated, sorely tempted to tell him the truth—to let him know her: Allie Benton. But then she looked into his eyes—eyes unshadowed by disgust—and knew she couldn’t.

  “My parents died during a typhus outbreak when I was a baby.” That was the story she’d always told because it was unbearable to admit the truth: her mother had been a whore and she’d not known who her father was.

  “Giddy?” His big warm hand slid up and down her side in a way that was beginning to heat the rest of her.

  She leaned into his touch. “Yes, her name was Edith—she went by Edie, which I somehow changed to Giddy.”

  “Is your aunt still in New York?”

  “No, she died. A long time ago.”

  He nodded, his lips pursed, as if he regretted asking the question. She rolled closer to him, until their bodies were pressed tight, hot hardness thrusting against her belly.

  She slid her hand between them. “I’m tired of talking, Joss.”

  ∞∞∞

  The few days before Christmas passed quickly.

  ​Joss had to admit this was the best job he’d ever had. Who wouldn’t like getting paid to dress in fine clothing, sit in a wonderful library, and discuss literature with an intelligent and enthusiastic woman?

  As planned, they read Persuasion once Lady Elizabeth provided them both with copies—which he assumed she must have bought. How nice must it be to afford to buy all the books you needed or wanted, and even duplicates to spare?

  They read to a certain point during the days—or evenings in Joss’s case—before Alicia came to him—and would discuss it the following day. By the end of the week, they’d finished it.

  They were in a heated debate about Mrs. Russell’s role in Anne Elliot’s life when the door to the library opened.

  It was Lady Selwood—he forced himself to think of her by that name, except when they were in bed. There was a maid with her—Joss grimaced, Annie, of course—bearing a tea tray.

  “I thought I’d better bring some tea to put out the flames,” Lady Selwood said, smiling at her daughter.

  Lady Elizabeth laughed. “Oh no, were we being dreadfully loud? That would’ve been me, I’ve been abusing Mr. Gormley dreadfully, I’m afraid.”

  ​Lady Selwood’s gaze rested on him for a long moment, a smile in her eyes. Annie looked from the countess to Joss in a way that was far too curious.

  ​ “That will be all, Annie.”

  Annie dropped a curtsey and shot Joss a venomous look before leaving.

  “Will you pour, darling?” Lady Selwood was speaking to her daughter, but her eyes were on Joss, and the look in them was speculative. He returned her stare with one of his own, and she flushed and turned away.

  Seeing her fully clothed and wearing a guarded expression just made thinking of her naked with his cock in her mouth even more arousing. He began to harden.

  It was time to go.

  He closed his copy of Persuasion and stood.

  “Where are you going, Gormley?”

  He froze, looking from the countess to the younger woman. “I thought you wished to take your tea, my lady?”

  “I do. But I have also come to join your book club. At least for today.”

  ​Lady Elizabeth was even more stunned than Joss and didn’t notice his reaction.

  ​Lady Selwood’s daughter was one of the topics they had not discussed over the past seven nights together, so the subject of book meetings had never been raised and he had no clue she’d been planning to attend.

  Lady Elizabeth clapped her hands. “I’m so pleased.”

  Lady Selwood flushed and gestured for Joss to resume his seat. “I didn’t want to promise anything just in case I wasn’t able to finish the book. Have you been discussing it all week?”

  “Yes, but we can talk about anything you like.” She turned to Joss. “How do you take your tea, Mr. Gormley?”

  “Black with three sugars,” Lady Selwood answered, and then froze.

  But Lady Elizabeth didn’t notice the slip. Instead, she turned to Joss and laughed. “Oh, I see I’ve found your weakness, you have a sweet tooth. We can go on with our discussion while I do this.” She turned to her stepmother. “Mr. Gormley insists that Mrs. Russell was no true friend to Anne. But I differ. What do you think, Mama?”

  Instead of answering, Lady Selwood turned her pale, penetrating gaze on Joss.

  “Oh, and why is that, Gormley?” she asked, her cool stare as distant as ever—even though Joss knew he would make her eyes spit blue fire tonight in his bed.

 
“Mrs. Russell does not put her friend’s concerns and needs first, although she claims to,” he said.

  “But she knows Anne’s circumstances and understands that she would have been unhappy married to an impoverished sailor,” Lady Elizabeth answered before Lady Selwood could speak.

  “That is true, but those were not Anne’s only choices: marriage or no marriage,” Joss pointed out.

  Lady Selwood laughed. “Pray, what are her myriad other options? I don’t think you understand a woman’s choices, Gormley.”

  The words stung, as he believed she’d meant them to do.

  He bowed his head but was far from feeling bowed.

  “You are correct, my lady: I do not understand many things when it comes to gently born females.” He cut a quick glance at Lady Elizabeth and smiled. “Or women in general.”

  The younger woman laughed, having teased him about his relationship with his sister earlier in the week.

  Joss turned back to Lady Selwood, who was watching him with the intensity of a hawk.

  “But I do know it would have cost Anne nothing—yet given her and Captain Wentworth the time both of them needed—if she’d been allowed to commit to a long engagement. The only reason to cut him entirely was Lady Russell’s belief that an association with such a man would naturally lower Anne’s standing in society.” Joss took a sip of tea.

  Lady Elizabeth clapped her hands. “Bravo, Mr. Gormley!” She looked pointedly at her stepmother, who, Joss saw, was nodding slowly, her expression as guarded as the crown jewels.

  “Yes, Bravo. Tell me,” she said, turning to her stepdaughter. “What did you think of Mr. Elliot, Lizzy?”

  Joss slowly released the air he’d been holding, feeling like he’d just gone a round against a brutal opponent.

  ∞∞∞

  That night, as they laid hot, slick, and sated beside one another, staring at the ceiling, Alicia brought up the afternoon.

  “I enjoyed joining your book discussion today.” She turned toward him. “Did you?” she asked.

  His eyes were dark, the pupils and irises very close in color in the low light of the room.

  “It was a spirited discussion,” he said, his guarded answer dodging her question.

  “You think I was too harsh—that I have a cold heart to condemn Anne and Captain Wentworth to years of loneliness.”

  They both knew what she really meant.

  “I think it is a novel, my lady.”

  She flinched at his use of her title—but really, wasn’t that what she wanted? To make sure he understood that she, like Lady Russell, had a healthy respect for position and convention—no matter how she might flaunt it during these nights together.

  “You are condemning me for my lack of romance.” She said, trying to lighten the heavy mood. It did not work. Instead of joining in with her playfulness, he turned to stare at the ceiling, giving her his harsh profile.

  “I think you were right in what you said, my lady—that I don’t really know what it is like for women of your class.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lady Selwood had given all but a handful of servants the entire day off at Christmas, not just half of it. Apparently it was her custom to give those who stayed to work Christmas Day all of New Year’s Day. Once again, it was a generous custom he’d never heard of in any other household.

  He’d not seen her since the night she’d come to discuss books with him and Lady Elizabeth. So, three nights without her.

  Joss told himself it was because she was busy with her daughter. That was true, but he also felt her pulling away, as if she were preparing herself for a more permanent separation.

  Why that should come as any surprise to him, he didn’t know.

  While she’d not paid him nightly, as the women had at the White House had done, she’d come to him for the exact same reason as all his other customers: the illusion of submitting to a cruel, brutish servant.

  Joss was an idiot, but then, he’d known that all along.

  Carling had consulted Joss on which day he preferred off. Joss thought of his family, all crowded around at Christmas, the noise, the fratching, the constant eating, the non-stop cooking, and—coward that he was—decided to take New Year’s. He would visit then and it would be far quieter, just Belle and Da, as his brothers had their wives’ families to visit.

  He could also see Melissa after having dinner with his family and he could spend the evening with her. It had been a while since he’d seen her and he missed her. All in all, he was looking forward to some time away.

  But first there was the holiday entertaining to be endured.

  The diminished staff meant Joss was pressed into a variety of duties in addition to waiting on Lady Elizabeth.

  There would be only Cook—who apparently never took any days off—Annie, whom Joss suspected of angling to work the day to be near him, two kitchen maids, a stable lad and the groom who was just below Joss, a young lad named Byron. That meant one of them would be pressed into footman duty and Lady Selwood indicated it should be Joss. Or at least Maude indicated that on behalf of her mistress.

  Once again, Maude had delivered her mistress’s message to his quarters.

  “How may I help you, Miss Finch.” He liked to call her that even though everyone else called her Finch. She was a little thing, but scrappy and somehow dignified. She was also a good two decades older than him and deserved some respect.

  She just sneered at his greeting. “You’ll add yet another title to your duties tomorrow. Her Ladyship will have an evening of entertainment and she will require you to act as footman,” she said, even though Joss had already heard as much. “She has hired some extra help for the kitchen and dining room, so you won’t be run off your feet.”

  “Aye, ma’am.” He would handle all the carriages, mainly because he wasn’t sure Byron was up to the job, but it wasn’t his place to make those decisions. He probably could have asked Lady Selwood that in bed—had she come to him lately—but they’d steadfastly avoided topics of daily life. Particularly those which centered on him being her servant.

  “Take off your coats.”

  Joss blinked. “Excuse me?”

  She scowled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got no designs on your virtue, lad. I want to see your shoulder.”

  “My shoulder is fine.” He rolled it, as if to demonstrate, and winced.

  She gave a rude laugh. “I can see that. Don’t be a nervous Nellie.”

  Joss sighed and began unbuttoning his coat. Her eyes flickered to his hands as they worked and then away, sweeping his small room.

  “Somebody taught you to be clean and tidy.”

  “Aye, my ma.” She’d forbidden her children to call her ma. It had always been mother.

  Her gaze landed on the tiny fireplace, which was cold and dark. “You’ve got no fire.”

  Tonight was the first night he’d not lighted it; a sign that he’d given up on seeing the countess.

  “Can’t slip anything past your sharp eyes.”

  To his surprise, she laughed. A quick, rusty bark, as if she’d not laughed in a long time.

  Joss laid his coat and waistcoat over the chair and began to unbutton his shirt.

  “You needn’t strip all the way, I’ve already been thrilled,” she muttered. “Just pull it off your shoulder enough for me to see. And sit down.”

  He did so and waited as she tugged down the white muslin. She gave a few noncommittal grunts. “Raise your arm.”

  He did.

  “How does that feel? Does the skin pull?”

  “No, but the muscle is still a bit sore.”

  “And it will be. But I don’t think the scar will limit your motion any. You can get dressed.” She stepped away from his chair and headed for the door.

  “Thank you,” he called after her. “I know it’s due to your clever needle that I’m in such fine fettle. Thank you also for mending my coat.” He’d found it in his quarters the day after his bedrest. It had been almost impossibl
e to find the tear.

  She snorted and kept walking, slamming the door behind her.

  Joss smiled; he thought she might actually like him.

  ∞∞∞

  Alicia screwed in her diamond and sapphire earbobs, absently staring at her reflection in the mirror.

  She both loved and hated having Lizzy with her.

  She loved it because Lizzy was the only daughter she would ever have.

  But she hated it because she knew their time together would have to end—just like her time with Joss.

  Joss. The name caused a confusing flood of emotions to roll through her body.

  Christmas had curtailed her adventures with her far-too-interesting servant, which was just as well: Alicia needed to impose some order on the situation with Joss because it had begun to get out of hand. At least for her.

  They’d spent some part of every night together for over a week and she’d begun to look forward to seeing him far too much.

  It wasn’t only the physical satisfaction he gave her; she found him clever, dry witted, and interesting. He was more well-read and thoughtful than anyone she could think of—male or female.

  He was also kind and considerate and appreciative, making her feel like a young, hopeful woman.

  Yes, Joss was truly a treasure.

  He’ll make some fortunate, nubile young woman an excellent wife, Aunt Giddy said, her tone unnecessarily malicious.

  She knew that. She also knew that what she had with Joss could not last for long. It was like a rare plant that only bloomed for a short, glorious period.

  He was eleven—yes, she admitted it—years younger than her and would one day want a wife and children. Two things she could never give him.

  Alicia forced herself to face the pain that realization caused in her chest. Yes, it was best to distance herself now. The longer she let herself have him, the harder it would be to end things.

  She fastened on her matching diamond and sapphire bracelet and examined her appearance in the mirror: she was adequate.

  The dress she was wearing was a new one: a silver silk sheath with a black net overdress scattered with pearls, the array becoming more dense as it approached the hem.