Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  Tonight, for some reason, her characteristic neutral shades left her oddly depressed. Perhaps it was the bruised skin beneath her eyes, which would not dissipate no matter how many of Maude’s remedies she employed.

  “The only thing for that is sleep, my lady,” her dour maid had said several days ago, staring pointedly at Alicia’s nightstand, where a copy of Persuasion lay. Only Alicia and Maude knew how long each page took to read, and how her eyes had burned and head had ached.

  But Alicia had done it—joined their group, even if just that one time.

  She’d told herself she was reading the blasted book to discuss it with Lizzy—to make her happy. But that was a shameful lie.

  Alicia closed her eyes and then opened them again when images of her servant immediately appeared.

  The situation had become ridiculous. She would wait until after New Year and then she would—

  The door behind her burst open.

  “I adore it, Mama!”

  Alicia turned to find Lizzy in the doorway between their rooms, Maude standing behind her chair, grinning.

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Alicia lifted a hand to her mouth: Lizzy looked just like a young woman.

  Well, she was a young woman—not a girl—as much as her brother tried to treat her like on.

  Maude had clipped Lizzy’s hair shorter, a fashion that was not for everyone, but which framed her sweetly rounded face to perfection.

  Lizzy ran her hands down the shell pink skirt of her dress. “I love it,” she said again, flushing. “This is my favorite color.”

  “It is?” Alicia gave her a look of mock surprise and Lizzy laughed. “I would never have guessed. Although it is the color of your room here, and at The Willows, and at Selwood House.”

  Lizzy laughed and Alicia grinned and waved her over. “Come, I have something for you. I didn’t put it in your shoe because I wanted Christmas to last all day.” She opened the drawer in her dressing table and took out a wooden box with an inlaid rose on the top.

  “Pretty,” Lizzy breathed, stroking the design with long, sensitive fingers. She glanced up. “What is it?”

  “You must open it to find out.”

  “Maybe I will keep it this way, to draw out the suspense, savor it. Keep it for a day when the sky is gray. A day when I am not with you.”

  Something hard and cold twisted in Alicia’s gut.

  Lizzy must have seen it because her cheerful smile was back in a flash. “But I won’t.” She grinned impishly and lifted the lid. Her gasp told Alicia all she needed to know.

  “It’s . . . it’s . . .” Lizzy shook her head.

  Alicia laughed and nodded at Maude, who said, “Here, my lady, let me fasten it around your neck.”

  The necklace was probably too old for Lizzy, even though she was almost seventeen.

  It wouldn’t have been an appropriate gift if Lizzy were to have a Season, but what harm could a pretty bauble do when she would only wear it around family and close friends?

  Indeed, tonight was probably the most exposure Lizzy would ever have to society. It was a shame there would be so few young people.

  It was also a shame that David had insisted on attending dinner.

  Alicia shoved away the disturbing thought. She would not allow it to interfere with her enjoyment of the evening.

  “There,” Maude said.

  Alicia smiled. “It’s perfect. Come look.”

  Maude wheeled Lizzy to the mirror and Alicia stood behind her. The necklace was a mix of pink pearls and topaz. It was an unconventional pairing and the hunched old man who’d taken the commission had looked skeptical when she’d described what she wanted.

  But he’d come around to her side when he delivered the necklace.

  “If you do not think me impertinent, Lady Selwood, you have an artist’s eye.” His own eyes had gleamed with respect.

  Alicia knew she had an artistic flare when it came to clothing and jewelry. That wasn’t much to be proud of when you had mountains of money to indulge your fancies.

  She was elated that the necklace looked just as she’d hoped, the golden-brown stones brought a richness to the pink dress, making it appear a more subtle rose shade, and the creamy pink pearls added a touch of elegance.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Lizzy marveled, her eyes on the necklace. Alicia’s eyes were on Lizzy, a girl who was her daughter for all that they shared no blood.

  “Yes,” she said. “You are.” She blinked away the gathering moisture in her eyes and became brisk. “Now, let’s get you downstairs and comfortable.”

  Maude left to go find Joss—Gormley, she mentally corrected. It would hardly do to blurt out Joss in the middle of some conversation.

  “You look lovely, as always, Mama.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  “That is a beautiful dress.” Lizzy sounded hesitant.

  “Why do I think you’re holding something back?”

  Lizzy’s short honey blond curls bounced. “I just wish you’d wear color more.”

  More? Alicia never wore color; it was all part of her Ice Queen façade.

  Lizzy glanced up at her. “I haven’t hurt your feelings, have I?”

  Alicia chuckled. “Why would that hurt my feelings?”

  “Good,” Lizzy grinned, the sunshine coming back. “You would look beautiful wearing a grain sack.”

  The door opened and Maude entered, followed by Gormley.

  Alicia had not seen him for several days. She’d hoped that some distance might have dimmed her yearning for him, but, if anything, her desire for him burned even hotter after evenings of self-imposed denial.

  She yearned to bypass dinner and run up to his room—to his arms—right this moment.

  That was not good; not good at all.

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. Gormley,” Lizzy said.

  “Thank you, my lady.” A slight smile curved his lips, transforming his harsh features into—well, they were still harsh, there was no romanticizing him, not that Alicia wanted to, of course—but his smile made him fiercely attractive.

  He was doubly appealing now that she knew he possessed an intriguing brain, a subtle sense of humor, and sexual prowess of mythical proportions.

  “Are you ready to go downstairs, my lady?”

  “I think the better question is are you ready?”

  Alicia shook her head at her stepdaughter, who had recently become obsessed by how plump she’d become. “Really, Lizzy.” She turned to Gormley, unable to meet his eyes when she gave him orders—yet another bad development. “She is ready. Please convey her to the Red Salon and return for her chair.”

  He scooped up Lizzy without any visible effort, his biceps bulging against his well-tailored coat.

  Alicia sighed and followed them down the stairs. When would she stop behaving like such a smitten fool?

  ∞∞∞

  Joss was grateful the hired servants would take care of table service. He’d never done such duty before and had no desire to start now.

  Even greeting people as they came in and taking their garments with the appropriate, servility didn’t come naturally to him. Fortunately, he was never long with any guest or group of guests before Lady Selwood came to the foyer, welcoming people personally.

  It was worth waiting on a bunch of arrogant toffs just to watch his secret lover.

  She managed to be gracious and reserved while still appearing warm. Joss barely recognized her as the hot, uninhibited lover who knelt before him and then shared precious bits of her past while lying in his bed.

  Watching her interact among her own kind made him realize why they called her the Ice Queen: she was serene, beautiful, and untouchable.

  Seeing her in her element also drove home just how far apart they were socially—the barrier between them forever insurmountable.

  Every day Joss reminded himself to be grateful for the little time he’d had.

  When she gained a bit of confidence and learned to demand what she wanted in the bedroom
—and discovered that there were men of her own station who could give it to her—she’d be on her way. He’d only had even this much time with her because Byerly had behaved like a fucking fool.

  Joss needed to remember his place.

  He thought back to Annie, who’d been shooting him angry, yearning looks all evening. Perhaps he should reconsider the girl. She was of his class, although not as well educated.

  Thanks to his mother, Joss and his siblings all spoke proper English and not the London cant, a fact that had gotten him and his brothers into endless fights as youngsters, when other children on their street accused them of being toffy-nosed.

  But proper speech and large vocabulary aside, Joss was nothing more than a shopkeeper’s son. And his ma, his only connection to the genteel, had run off and left him; left her five-year-old daughter, who’d barely survived a sickness that left her scarred for life.

  Sometimes Joss wondered if he’d bought into his mother’s foolishness more than he’d realized. After all, who was he to fantasize about bedding the rarified creature who owned this house but look down his nose at a young girl offering him the best and only thing she had: herself?

  A blast of arctic air hit him and Joss realized he’d been wool-gathering. He looked up to find Byron opening the door for three people and cutting Joss a glare. Joss nodded and opened the door wider.

  “Good—” Joss’s lungs froze, and not with cold.

  “Yes, yes,” the first man muttered, not noticing Joss’s truncated greeting or even bothering to glance Joss’s way as he pushed into the foyer, still talking to the woman beside him.

  The same woman Joss was staring at.

  And she was staring at Joss, too.

  “—and so Selwood and I have a late session with Kettering, Ellen,” the man’s tone was abrupt and hectoring. “I’m relying on you to see that I shan’t be roped into any foolishness like Speculation or chicken-stakes whist.”

  Joss started at the name Selwood and he realized the third person in the party was Alicia’s son-in-law. And he was looking from Joss to the woman, his eyes sharper than freshly stropped razors.

  The first man—who looked vaguely familiar to Joss—paused in the act of shrugging out of his overcoat and frowned at the woman. “Ellen?” His eyes slid to what she was staring at: Joss.

  Joss immediately bowed. “Your coat, sir?”

  When he didn’t answer, Joss risked a glance up. The man’s attention was still on the woman. As was Selwood’s.

  She—Ellen—had come about, but was paler than a glass of milk, her eyes now swiveling around the room and looking anywhere but Joss.

  “I say. You’re not ill are you, Ellen?”

  Ellen, who Joss knew as Mrs. Ellen Fletcher, gave the man—her husband?—a sickly smile. “No, no, Beckingdon, I merely took a chill.”

  Beckingdon? The name gave Joss pause. Where had he heard that name before?

  Beckingdon glared at Joss, his bushy white eyebrows low over eyes that reminded Joss of a falcon, although he’d never seen a falcon this close up, of course. “It’s no surprise you’ve taken chill given how long we had to languish out there.”

  Selwood chuckled and handed Joss his coat. “Gormley, isn’t it? My, my, but you do serve a variety of functions in Her Ladyship’s household.” The words dripped innuendo and Joss’s face heated.

  “Eh?” Beckingdon grunted, not waiting for a response before thrusting his coat and hat at Joss. His piercing gaze flickered over Joss’s shoulder and a fatuous, smile transformed his cold, aquiline features.

  “Lady Selwood, you see who I’ve come with—your very own stepson.” He went to take Alicia’s hand, fawning over it.

  Ellen took the opportunity to stare at Joss, who gawked right back.

  Selwood stared at both of them and rocked back on his heels, his expression almost gleeful.

  Alicia’s eyes flickered over all the faces, hovering on Selwood, who was gazing at Joss.

  It was a bloody French farce.

  “Welcome, Your Grace,” Lady Selwood gave a low curtsy, turned to Ellen, and dropped another. “And Your Grace, what an honor you both do me. Good evening, David. Won’t you all come in?”

  Your Grace? Christ! That’s where he’d heard the name—at the gambling hell! The man was a bloody duke!

  “Thank you, my dear.” Selwood took Alicia’s hand and when he bowed over it, his tongue flicked over her skin.

  Joss thought his eyes would roll out of his head. What. The. Bleeding. Fuck?

  His body clenched, preparing to launch itself on Selwood and pound him to a pulp—right after Alicia slapped his smirking face.

  But the Ice Queen gave no sign that anything was untoward.

  Selwood grinned at Joss. And then the bastard winked.

  Rage as hot and thick as lava oozed through him and he took a step toward the other man, envisioning violent, painful things.

  “It’s horrid out, is it not?” Alicia’s voice, unnaturally loud, jolted Joss from his fury. She gave him a quick, speaking look before turning to the others. “Perhaps you’d enjoy something to warm you before dinner?”

  “Yes, yes, deuced unpleasant.” Beckingdon rubbed his hands together. “A nice glass of that exquisite cognac you had last time—if you’ve still got any.”

  And then he remembered what the Earl of Selwood’s behavior had forced from his mind: this man was a duke and Ellen was the Duchess of Bloody Beckingdon.

  Lady Selwood turned to her. “Your Grace? Is aught amiss?” she asked the older woman.

  “I’m just a bit chilled, my lady.”

  Joss recognized her voice, although it was stiffer and more formal than it had been when he’d last heard it—when it had been rough from throating his cock and she’d begged him to do far from genteel things to her body.

  “Thank you for having us on Christmas, Lady Selwood,” the duchess said, not sounding very thankful.

  Joss didn’t know if that was because of his presence or because she didn’t like Alicia. He was sure lots of women wouldn’t like her—she made every female in her orbit pale in comparison.

  Lady Selwood bestowed a gracious smile on the older woman. “David will lead you in, he knows the way. I shall join you in a moment.”

  “Yes, please follow me,” Selwood said, his eyes glinting “We’ll let Alicia have a word with her servant.”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  She glanced behind her to make sure they’d gone and then asked, “Did something happen?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  “I was lax doing my duty and the duke and duchess were made to wait for longer than they should have in the cold.”

  “Oh, I see.” Her forehead immediately smoothed.

  Joss wondered what she’d thought had happened.

  “There are only a few more guests. You can go down to the kitchen afterward. Where it is warm.” A slight flush spread across her cheeks and she turned and strode from the room before he could answer.

  Joss waited until she’d gone and then slumped against the front door, his thoughts roiling.

  Good God—Ellen was a duchess?

  And then he recalled Selwood and what he’d done when he’d greeted Alicia and all thoughts of Ellen fled.

  Just what the devil was going on between the countess and her stepson?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alicia had not planned to go to him that night, but being around David made her anxious, as if she’d gotten something filthy on her skin and couldn’t wash it away.

  So, she’d taken a very late bath, ignored Maude’s judging expression, and made her way to the mews.

  It was the first time she’d encountered anyone while going to him. It was the girl, Annie, one of her maids. She’d stopped and stared at Alicia for a moment—the longest moment of her life—but obviously could not see past the veil. When Alicia passed the girl, it wasn’t recognition she saw in her face, but fury.

  What was she doing out here? Alicia knew there were other quarter
s but could not recall who lived in them.

  Joss’s door was closed and no light came from beneath it. She hovered; her hand poised above the wood. She’d just lowered it when the door opened and his face appeared in the gap.

  He smiled and she thought she saw relief as he opened it enough to let her slip inside. He’d dressed for bed—which meant his robe, with nothing beneath it.

  “I didn’t think you would come,” he said, taking her hat and reaching for her cloak.

  His jaw sagged when she removed it.

  Alicia bit back a smile. Well, it appeared the money she’d spent on her new negligee had not been squandered.

  “My God,” he breathed, blindly extending the cloak toward the table and dropping it onto the floor, unable to take his eyes from her.

  The gown was sheer lace—a deep green that somehow made her eyes appear almost violet in the low lighting.

  “Turn,” he ordered, the gruff command setting off the usual pulsing sensation between her thighs.

  She held out her arms and turned, the lace skirt swirling around her naked legs. She came to a stop when she faced him again.

  He was shaking his head, as if confronted with something that defied belief. “Color—it’s the first time I’ve seen you in color.”

  She smiled, so warm inside—so utterly happy and safe and satisfied at this moment that she hardly even recognized herself.

  “I bought it for you, Joss. Merry Christmas.”

  His smile grew slowly, taking over his face like the most spectacular sunrise conquering dawn. He laughed and scooped her up before she knew what he was doing, taking her toward the bed, where he laid her out.

  She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as he pulled the sash and shrugged out of his robe, leaving it on the floor—quite a statement of desire for a man she knew was almost pathologically neat and tidy.

  And also immensely hard.

  He took the hem of her gown and lifted it.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathy, her blood pounding in her ears.

  He grinned. “Unwrapping my present.”

  ∞∞∞

  Tonight she wanted to talk rather than sleep after they’d sated themselves. Joss banked the fire, which he’d lighted earlier because it was so damned cold, and slid back into bed.