Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  Annie’s eyes were narrow and suspicious. Joss took her arm and resumed walking.

  “So,” he asked after a long moment of silence. “What’s ailing her?”

  “Nothing but a case of bottle fever.”

  “What?”

  This time she was the one to stop, pulling away her hand and staring up at him with a dangerous glower.

  Joss knew his face would be flaming so he said the first thing he could think of to save the situation. “Surely she wouldn’t do such a thing with Lady Elizabeth there.”

  Mention of the young noblewoman didn’t help the situation.

  Annie placed her fisted hands on her hips and glared. “Even though she sacked you, you’re still sweet on her.”

  “On whom?” he demanded, another part of his mind stuck on what she’d said: Lady Selwood had said she’d sacked him? That wasn’t what Feehan had told Melissa when she’d sent a note for Joss.

  Before he could ask her to clarify, Annie’s voice rolled over his thoughts.

  “I don’t know which one you’re sweet on.” She shook her head, hurt and confusion evident on her face. “I don’t know—on one of ‘em, that’s for certain. You get this look whenever they’re mentioned.”

  “What look?” he asked, even though he knew the look she was talking about because Mel had commented on it more than once in the past weeks.

  Annie made a noise of frustration. “I didn’t come all the way out here to talk about her—or them.”

  “Why did you come, Annie?”

  Her lip trembled at his sharp tone and he felt like an ogre. He sighed and reached for her hand. “Look, Annie, I didn’t mean—”

  But she wasn’t having any of it. “Yes, you did mean it. You’re just as high and mighty as you ever were. You aren’t the only one, Joss,” she sneered. “There are several other blokes, and they’d give their right arms to be with me.”

  Joss wanted to ask her why she wasn’t with them but doubted that was the way to smooth matters. Instead he said, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, Annie. You’re a beautiful, smart girl.”

  She blinked at that, uncertainty mixing with anger. She finally nodded. “That’s right. I’m glad to see you realize that. I could’ve spent today with any of them. But I picked you.”

  “I know. I know you did.” He reached for her arm and this time she didn’t snatch it away. “Come on. It’s cold.” She hesitated, but he could see she was wavering. “My sister will be glad to have the company. And so will I,” he added.

  That did it and she took his arm.

  They walked in silence and he realized it was his turn. “That’s a very pretty bonnet, Annie. It looks becoming on you.”

  Her smile turned positively radiant and she gave a little skip as they walked.

  Joss felt more than a bit guilty that it took so little to make her happy.

  “Lady Selwood gave it to me,” she said, not pausing, not looking up. For once, Joss managed to control his body’s reaction.

  “That’s nice,” he said, as noncommittal as he could muster. Why the devil was Alicia giving her parlor maid bonnets?

  Annie paused and he felt like she was evaluating the situation and considering what she was going to say and whether it was worth the possibility that he might be more interested in the subject matter than her. She must have decided not.

  “I’m her maid now.”

  He was astounded that his step didn’t even stutter. And grateful he was too stunned to speak or demand answers, not that she needed encouragement.

  “She sacked that sour old crone Miss Finch and raised me up.” She hesitated, and sounded significantly less certain when she next spoke. “I only wish she’d have more need of me. But she never goes out and never wears any of her lovely dresses, not even when her friends come to see her. Not that they do any longer, not since she yelled at poor Lady Constance. Fancy that,” she said with wonder in her voice, completely unaware of the effect her words were having on him.

  Joss cleared his throat. Several times. “Fancy what?”

  “Oh, just being able to tell off a duke’s daughter the way she did, not that she wasn’t deep inside the bottle when she did it. If I thought drinking a load of expensive liquor would help me get brave I’d do it, just to tell off that snotty Maisy Dockins.”

  For the rest of the brief walk home she talked about her long-running feud with Maisy, one of the other maids who worked for Lady Selwood, leaving Joss free to consider her shocking disclosures and remember things he would’ve rather forgotten.

  Things like Alicia’s stricken expression the night he’d yelled at, insulted, and walked out on her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alicia was staring at her dead fireplace, remembering another dead fireplace.

  She’d woken up on the settee, cold. Why was it so cold? She looked around and frowned, unable to remember. Until her eyes landed on the broken glass that ringed the door to her sitting room. Now she remembered. She grimaced and reached for a bottle. But the table in front of the settee was strewn with glasses, all empty.

  She closed her eyes and lowered her head to the back of the sofa, too tired to get up and ring for more. Too worried that nobody would come when she rang.

  She’d been quite abusive—and more than a bit dangerous, the broken glass reminded her of that. Memories of the past few days flooded her head. Thankfully a soft scratching on the door interrupted them.

  “A message for you, my lady.” It was the girl’s voice, muffled, from the hall. No doubt she was too afraid to open the door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened slowly, only a crack at first.

  Alicia sighed. “Just bring it to me,” she said, somewhere between shame and irritation.

  She took the message from the salver. “Where is Feehan?” she asked absently.

  When the girl didn’t answer she looked up. “Well?”

  The girl—Annie, she reminded herself. Since when did she reduce servants to labels like “the girl”? Was what Joss said true—that she didn’t believe servants were real, thinking, feeling people. A memory of his face—a face she’d held at bay for days, weeks—swooped down on her like a hawk on a rodent.

  “You, er, told Mr. Feehan not to bother you.”

  Alicia stared at the girl, her attention bringing even more of a blush to her plump healthy cheeks. She was extremely pretty. Pretty and young and wholesome. Just looking at her made Alicia feel tired and old and used up.

  Annie was the kind of woman Joss should have—somebody who would love him, appreciate and value him. Give him babies. She shuddered as if struck and swallowed several times before speaking. “You can go,” she said, her voice hoarse and raw.

  She waited until the door closed before opening the letter, her eye dropping to the signature first: Shelly.

  She pushed herself up, blinking away the sleep and grit in her eyes and holding the page closer, her teeth gritted as she forced the letters on the page to remain still.

  “My Lady:

  I apologize for the delay in responding. My servant forwarded your message regarding the investigation you requested.”

  Alicia blinked. What investigation? She tried to think back to the past days—weeks?—but could not recall sending Shelly anything.

  She turned back to the message.

  “I’ve just completed a project in Brighton and I will be back in London at the end of the week. In the interim, I’ve taken the liberty of having my associate draw up a list of all sanatoriums, asylums, or hospitals. He’s already begun visiting the ones in the vicinity and I will join him upon arriving in London.

  Yours respectfully,

  William P. Shelly

  Alicia lowered the letter to her lap. What the devil? Who could have sent Shelly a letter on her behalf?

  There weren’t many choices. Connie?

  She remembered the last words Connie had yelled at her, just before Alicia had told her servants not to let her in again, or sh
e would sack the lot of them.

  “You’re killing yourself, Alicia. Committing suicide right in front of me. Do you think I won’t do everything I can to stop you?”

  Could she be behind this?

  Connie knew about Alicia using Shelly for an earlier investigation. They’d discussed it when Connie had needed somebody to look into a matter concerning her new housekeeper—a woman who’d stolen half the family silver during her first six weeks in her new position.

  Alicia pushed aside thoughts of Connie’s thieving housekeeper and stared down at the letter.

  A pale flicker of interest licked at the pain that filled her heart. She might not be able to be with Lizzy, but at least Shelly could bring her information. She would not need to sit here, isolated and alone. Good God, why hadn’t she thought of this? Why?

  Do you care about the whys and wherefores? Or do you care about finding her? It was Aunt Giddy, who’d been conspicuously absent of late.

  ​Alicia’s lips trembled into a smile; Shelly would find her if anyone could.

  ​Hope surged in her chest and she tossed the letter onto the nearby console table and stood, alarmed at how wobbly her legs felt.

  ​When she wrapped her robe tighter, she grimaced in distaste: she stank. Revulsion wrapped around her tighter than the filthy clothing and she staggered to the bell pull before lowering herself onto the bench in front of dressing table, the room whirling and swaying around her. When had she last eaten? She could not recall.

  Alicia looked in the mirror and winced: the woman who looked back at her was at least ten years older.

  Lord only knew how much weight she’d lost, but it all seemed to have come off her face. She was gaunt, her skin paler than normal with an unhealthy, yellow tinge.

  She groaned. There was a soft scratch on the door and Annie’s low voice, “Yes, my lady?”

  Alicia was too ashamed to turn. “Have a bath brought up.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The door clicked shut.

  Alicia dropped her head in her hands.

  She’d only been weeping and pitying herself for a few moments—or at least she thought it had only been a few—when the door opened again.

  “What do you want, Annie?” she demanded, furious to be caught in such a pitiful position.

  When nobody answered she looked up to find Maude was standing in the doorway.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She turned back to her mirror, her face tingling and burning, as if she’d developed some kind of rash.

  The door closed and her shoulders slumped. She’d left. Alicia had behaved like a—

  A loud thump made her yelp and turn.

  Maude was still there. The thump had been her bag hitting the floor.

  “Yes, it’s me.” Her hard, gray eyes flickered from Alicia’s crown to her feet and then back to her face. “You look terrible.”

  Alicia couldn’t help smiling. “I know.”

  Maude’s mouth quivered, but she was tougher than Alicia. Much tougher. “I heard you’d rung for a bath and wondered if you might be ready to re-join the living.”

  Alicia hesitated. “I-I got a message and it was from—”

  “I know who sent it.”

  Her eyes flew open. “You?”

  Maude scowled. “Yes, me. Who else did you think would do it?”

  Alicia just shook her head. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

  “You were too far inside the bottle.”

  She winced at the harsh assessment but knew the other woman was right. Painfully right. So she just said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Alicia colored under Maude’s penetrating stare and looked away, unfortunately back at her reflection in the large dressing table mirror. She grimaced and jerked her chin at her image. “Do you think you can do anything about this?”

  Maude stumped across the room and came to a stop behind her, her eyes taking in the damage. “Not about the weight. Only time will fix that. But the dark circles, this?” She tweaked a limp strand of greasy hair and nodded. “Aye, I can do something with that.”

  Alicia’s shoulders sagged with relief. And then something occurred to her. “How did you know that I’d rung for a bath so quickly.” She frowned. “Just where have you been living?”

  Maude’s mouth curled into a sly smile. “What do you care?”

  “Maude—”

  “There was a vacancy above the carriage house. I took it. Had myself a wee holiday.” She frowned up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “First I’ve ever had, if I recall right.”

  Alicia experienced a fierce, and entirely foolish, surge of jealousy at the thought of the other woman staying in his room.

  God. She hated her own mind. Hated it. What good was all the money she possessed if it couldn’t buy the things she wanted? Things like Lizzy’s freedom and some peace? Or more time with Joss?

  Alicia closed her eyes and pushed away the muddle of pain such thoughts brought. She’d destroyed any chance with Joss; he hated her, and had every right to do so.

  Instead, she thought of the woman beside her and how she’d introduced a ray of light. She opened her eyes to find Maude studying her, her expression pensive. “I’m glad you came back,” Alicia said again.

  “I know you are. Now, come along, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Out with it, now.”

  Joss looked up. He hadn’t even realized Mel had entered his room. He stood, his hand automatically putting the tooled-leather marker in the book and closed it before answering.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’m to leave this place shortly and I’d like to do so feeling as though you are prepared to take charge of it.”

  “I am. What makes you think I’m not?”

  She placed fisted hands on her hips. “Do you think you are smarter than me?”

  Her words startled a laugh out of him. “No. I know I’m not smarter than you,” he answered honestly.

  “Good. So tell me, why have you been looking like a toddler whose best and only toy has been stolen since coming back from your family’s place? What happened? Is it your Da? Your sister?” Her green eyes were wide, her forehead pinched with concern.

  Joss glanced down at the book in his hand, running his finger over the raised gold lettering on the spine that read, Antony and Cleopatra. He was re-reading it, like some broken-hearted, lost fool.

  “If we can’t tell each other the truth then what do we have, Joss?”

  He looked up. Rich yellow candlelight glinted off her smooth, copper chignon, her magnificent green eyes serious. “Please, Joss, you are doing so much for me, everything. Let me help you—if I can, even if it’s just lending an ear. I just can’t feel good about leaving if you are so bloody sad.”

  Joss set the book aside and gestured to the small settee that directly across from the big fireplace. “Please, Mel. Sit.”

  She sat and he lowered himself into his chair. “I ran into the girl from Lady Selwood’s—the maid named Annie.”

  “I remember.” Mel frowned. “She’s the one who was in heat for you?”

  Joss cringed at her assessment—which was accurate if brutal. “Aye. That’s the one.”

  ​“So what happened? Is she still hunting you? Tell her to bugger off.”

  “It wasn’t that, she’s not a bad lass, although she is rather persistent. It wasn’t seeing her that bothered me—it was what she told me about Lady Selwood.”

  When Mel didn’t answer, he looked up.

  Her mouth had flattened into a grim line. “So that’s it.”

  Joss didn’t bother pretending. “Yes, that is it.”

  Mel dropped her head against the back of her chair and rolled it side to side. “Oh, Joss, you idiot. You fool. You—you, oh there is no word for you. I should have guessed.”

  “Why the devil should you have guessed?”

  “Oh, all the things you did while you were there—the book discussion cl
ub, being included on trips to the theater.” He flushed and she sat upright, glaring. “And then there was you being fired for insubordination. You have a temper that takes a year to rouse—I knew something was not right then. Not only that, but I’ve heard about her. Who hasn’t? One of the richest and most beautiful women in England.”

  Joss didn’t like her tone. “Why do you say it like that? As if that is all there is to her? As if—”

  She held up a hand. “Are you listening to yourself?” She plowed on, not waiting for an answer. “Oh no, trust me, I don’t think you’ve fallen for a pretty face—and I certainly don’t believe you’ve fallen for money, I know you. But I’m sure that a pretty face and such marvelous adventures have convinced you that you love her.”

  Joss shot to his feet and went to stare at the fire, shame and anger and an odd sort of fear roiling inside his gut. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. I knew I—”

  “Oh, just sit down, you great looby. You should see yourself. No,” she said when he began to leave. “Don’t leave. I won’t mock you. Come here.” She patted the settee beside her. When he didn’t move, she adopted a pleading, kicked-puppy expression. “Please, Joss, I’m an invalid and you should humor me.”

  “Oh, bloody hell.” He dropped down beside her and she immediately leaned against him, nuzzling his shoulder with her chin until he lifted an arm around her.

  “That’s better,” she murmured into his chest. “Tell Aunty Melissa all about it.”

  Joss rolled his eyes.

  “Come. Tell me, you know it helps to get rid of it. That’s exactly what you told me the day I came to beg you in your Da’s kitchen.”

  And so it was.

  Joss had encouraged her to talk when she’d not wanted to, he’d known that, but he’d also seen it was burning a hole through her like acid. Was that what Alicia was to him? Acid?

  He pulled Mel’s small body closer, comforted by the familiar feel of her. “I don’t remember you begging,” he said into her soft, fragrant hair.

  “Hush about that. Tell me about her.”

  “There’s nothing more to tell, you’ve already guessed the whole pitiful mess. I—well, I became enamored of her.”