Joss and The Countess (The Seducers Book 2)

by S. M. LaViolette

  “Oh, go on—you’ll say what?”

  “You ain’t courtin’?”

  Joss shook his head. “No.”

  Carling heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. She’s a bad piece of goods. Not happy that the mistress is drying herself out. Didn’t want to give up her lady’s maid position, did she?”

  Joss wanted to think the other man was exaggerating but he couldn’t forget the glitter of malice in her eyes when she’d spoken of Lady Selwood’s condition.

  “I’m sure Her Ladyship would be amenable to helping her acquire such a position.”

  Carling had snorted.

  “What?”

  “Just stay away from her, lad.”

  That was Joss’s plan. He’d even gone so far as to change his day off, so he could avoid any “accidental meetings”.

  He couldn’t bring himself to like Annie, but he couldn’t dislike her, either. She wasn’t mean spirited, just unhappy with her lot.

  Joss would remember that assessment later.

  ∞∞∞

  Alicia was headed to The White House in an unmarked, luxurious coach.

  He hates you! He hates you! The words spinning around in her head faster than the wheels of the carriage.

  The accusation, in one form or another, had not stopped slithering around in her brain since she’d arrived at the boring looking house where she’d changed carriages.

  Alicia didn’t know what she’d been expecting—hadn’t thought of it, really—but it hadn’t been what she’d found.

  The house on Pultney Steet had looked just like any of the others: quiet gray stone with lights burning in a few of the windows and a footman waiting to hand her from her carriage.

  Inside she met a butler as staid as any she’d ever seen, who offered her something to drink. She had just demurred when a door opened and a woman stepped out. An exceptionally beautiful woman.

  Alicia was about to turn away, her cheeks flaming at encountering another patron when the woman smiled and said. “I am Mrs. Griffin. Good evening, my lady.”

  Alicia could only stare. This was what a madam looked like?

  Melissa Griffin was dressed in a dark green silk that was not cut particularly low but fit her shape so intimately it looked to have been stitched onto her body.

  Fiery auburn hair and tilted green eyes complemented her pale creamy skin. Not only was she exquisite, but she was dressed with far more taste and fashion than three-quarters of the ton.

  This woman wasn’t only a madam, she was also something else to Joss—a woman whom he’d visited regularly. Was she his lover?

  “Will you join me in the sitting room?”

  Alicia followed her into a room that was just as simply and elegantly decorated as the small foyer. In fact, it looked like a room Alicia might have decorated herself.

  The color pallet was a soothing mix of brown, cream, and beige with a hint of moss green. The furniture was of the type you’d find in a man’s study, comfortable rather than decorative.

  “Please, sit.” Mrs. Griffin gestured to a chair and took the one across from it.

  Alicia sat, wondering what the devil was going on.

  “You’re probably wondering how all this transpired?” Mrs. Griffin had a long upper lip that made her appear kittenish, but her lower lip was all sin. When she smiled, however, her mouth curved into a charming, lopsided grin that was engaging and girlish.

  “Yes, I am,” Alicia admitted.

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  Alicia’s lips parted.

  The other woman laughed, a low, throaty sound rather than the elegant tinkle of bells one would expect.

  “I’m not laughing at you, my lady. I’m laughing at my foolish question.” The humor drained from her eyes, which became shrewd and assessing as they swept Alicia’s person.

  She knew she was coloring beneath the other woman’s piercing stare. Something about her pitiless eyes reminded Alicia of her husband Horace. The thought was a startling one. What could her ancient homely husband have shared with this exquisite butterfly?

  “What I meant to ask was do you know who is responsible for you being here tonight?” Alicia hesitated and again the other woman filled the gap. “Joss is the reason you are here.”

  Alicia’s jaw sagged and she was trying to absorb the other woman’s words when she dropped another bombshell.

  “Joss did not exaggerate when he described you as the loveliest woman in Britain.”

  Alicia didn’t know what was more shocking: hearing his name out aloud or hearing what he thought of her from the mouth of a beautiful woman. She cleared her throat, jealousy, pleasure, confusion, and at least a dozen other emotions swirling inside her.

  “What is this all about, Mrs. Griffin? If Joss wanted to speak to me why didn’t he come to me himself?”

  “Oh, he wants to speak to you—he just won’t admit it.” She smiled at Alicia’s look of confusion. “You have hurt my friend. Deeply.”

  Alicia opened her mouth. And then closed it.

  Mrs. Griffin nodded. “Thank you for not denying it.”

  “He told you what happened?”

  “He told me no details—Joss is a very private man. He merely told me that you’d discovered where he’d once worked and felt he was no longer an appropriate person to be around your daughter. So he quit.”

  She felt sick at hearing the words spoken aloud. “That’s what he believes. But it isn’t true.” Mrs. Griffin raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s true that I no longer had him wait on my daughter. But not for the reasons he believes. My reasons for that decision are not ones I can share.”

  “I see.”

  Alicia did not want this sophisticated and obviously intelligent woman to think poorly of her. “I never thought he would do her any harm. He is exceptional. He is unlike any servant I’ve ever known.” A pang of shame followed her words. “I misspoke—he is unlike any man I have ever known. He is intelligent, kind, and moral. And I treated him badly—very badly. I knew it at the time. But . . . Well, I thought it was better that way.” She gave Mrs. Griffin a pleading look, wanting her to understand. “I expected him to come back—at least to collect the last of his things—but he never did. Nor did he ask for a letter of reference.” She couldn’t maintain the woman’s knowing gaze. “When he didn’t, I assumed he either went to work for his father or . . .”

  “Or me.”

  Alicia nodded, unable to speak.

  “He did go back to his father’s. But that business belongs to his older brother now, so he could not stay. He didn’t seem optimistic about his chances getting another groom position without a recent letter, so I offered him employment.”

  Alicia made herself meet the other woman’s gaze. “You believe I forced him into this decision.”

  “Not in the way you think.”

  Alicia had no idea what that meant.

  Before she could answer, the other woman went on. “That you have come here tonight, knowing what you do about his past, tells me you care about him.” She paused. “I can have my carriage take you back to your house. Or, I can have you delivered to The White House, to Joss. He does not expect you and I cannot say what reception you will receive.” She lifted her shoulders. “The decision is yours.”

  They stared at each other, with only the sound of the crackling fire, the noises from the street, and the ticking of a clock filling the room.

  Isn’t this what you wanted? Aunt Giddy’s voice was so loud Alicia almost looked around the room for her.

  Was it?

  Did she really want to be just another of his paying customers? Her stomach clenched at the thought.

  She looked up to find Mrs. Griffin waiting, a curiously thoughtful expression on her face. “I don’t think I c—” to her shame, her voice broke.

  “What is it, my lady?”

  Her kindness almost undid Alicia. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced out the words. “I don’t think I can be just another of his clients.
”

  The madam gave her a quizzical look. “May I ask you an impertinent question?”

  Alicia laughed weakly. “It seems like the perfect time for it.”

  Melissa Griffin didn’t smile. Instead, her green eyes were as hard as jade. “You responded to my letter without hesitation and it is clear you wish to see him. But have you decided what it is you want from Joss?”

  Alicia could not hold her gaze. She stared down at the richly patterned carpet beneath her feet, the ornate design as complicated as her thoughts—but far more orderly.

  What did she want from him?

  Alicia knew; but she’d been too afraid to even think the thoughts.

  It was time to do so, now.

  Shelly was searching for Lizzy and was confident he would find her—sooner rather than later according to his latest message.

  When he did, she would take Lizzy and they would go to the Continent. Once Lizzy had time to rest and recuperate from whatever it was David claimed ailed her Alicia would take her on the longer journey to New York.

  And she wanted to take Joss with her. If he would come.

  And if David sent men after them, well she would deal with that when it happened. Without him bleeding her of every extra dime, she would have ample money to protect Lizzy.

  Alicia looked up, weak with relief that she’d finally come to a decision.

  “I love him.”

  Some of the hardness went out of Melissa Griffin’s eyes and she nodded. “He deserves to be loved.” She hesitated, her lips curving into a wry smile. “I will warn you that he has no inkling about any of this—that I am meddling in his affairs.” She raised her eyebrows and Alicia nodded. “I know this is not the most straightforward way to do this—”

  “But you think this is the only way to get him into a room with me—if he doesn’t know who I am?”

  Mrs. Griffin nodded. “Yes. But, ultimately, this is your decision—you don’t have to do this. You could simply go home and send him a letter.”

  It was certainly a more mature method. But would Joss even speak to her after the way she’d treated him?

  And then there was the fact that her letter writing skills were less than impressive.

  No, she wasn’t willing to take the risk that he might just ignore her letter.

  “I want to do it.”

  “Very well. I’m going to send you in as I would any client. I’ve scheduled you for another of our companions—” She smiled at Alicia’s startled look. “I’m sorry, I know this seems convoluted, rather than just scheduling you with Joss.”

  Yes, it did. But she kept her mouth shut.

  “If you’ll trust me—you’ll find I have my reasons. Can you trust me, my lady?”

  Alicia hesitated, and then said. “I trust you.”

  “Good. So, when you arrive you will be greeted by Hugo. However, the way I’ve arranged it Joss will come to you before you spend more than a few minutes with Hugo. Understand?”

  Not at all, but Alicia decided it was better if she didn’t know.

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to give you the orientation I give everyone, just so you understand the lay of the land, so to speak.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “First, you are Mrs. Charlotte Smith. Please use that name whenever you are within the walls of The White House.” She paused, “I’m the only one who knows our clients’ true identities. I keep that information in a ledger in a vault. Now, the other thing is a mask.” Mrs. Griffin leaned over to the chair beside her and picked up a loo mask Alicia had not noticed, as well as a small hat with a rather heavy veil attached. “Wear both at all times.”

  She held out the mask, giving Alicia a reassuring smile. “Hugo will never know your name or what you look like. In the normal course of events most people remove it at some point during the evening. Naturally, you will not wish Hugo to see your face.”

  Alicia’s hands shook as she took the scrap of black velvet.

  Mrs. Griffith noticed. “Please, you must relax. If you decide you don’t wish to enter the building, simply tell the driver. He will take you here, or to your house, or anywhere else you desire.” She paused and Alicia nodded. “When you arrive, a servant will greet you. Normally, a client will have a specific scenario in mind and they would have provided me with a written description beforehand. To facilitate matters, I have taken the liberty of writing up something and leaving it for Hugo. You won’t need it, of course, but I think it is wise if you follow the usual procedures. Do you have any questions?”

  Alicia had at least a hundred, but she shook her head.

  “So, Mrs. Smith—are you ready?”

  Alicia must have said yes because here she was a quarter of an hour later, her carriage rolling to a stop.

  She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that she was doing the right thing.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Joss was entering the daily paid out receipts into the enormous ledger Melissa kept for that purpose.

  ​As of tonight, he was officially in charge of the entire operation. Melissa had departed earlier in the day for the house she’d leased somewhere not far from Brighton.

  ​She’d taken a handful of employees with her, two of them women who’d wanted a rest from the rigors of whoring and were glad to pose as members of Melissa’s household to lend her respectability in the small seaside community she’d chosen.

  ​Joss questioned her decision when it came to hiring whores for respectability, but what did he know about such things?

  He’d told her she could stay away longer, but he could see she was already anxious to be leaving for as long as she was.

  This was a huge undertaking and the operation of not one, but two separate brothels—the men’s side boasting its own hell—required a lot of time and effort and cost a fortune.

  There were mountains of expenses: building maintenance, furnishings, food, fine wine, champagne, and liquor, just to name a few.

  And then there were the employees themselves.

  Joss looked down the ledger to that part of the book that listed employee expenses and shook his head in amazement.

  Melissa could have retired five years ago if she didn’t pay the wages she did to both whores and servants.

  When he’d pointed that out, she’d said, “If I’m going to make money off the backs of other people, I believe they should be amply compensated for it. This assuages some of my guilt. With only a little management, they should all be able to save enough to one day retire.”

  Joss didn’t have the heart to tell her that most of her employees ran through their money like water.

  And some of them—Hugo Buckingham’s face flickered through Joss’s mind—probably never wanted to retire because they appeared to love what they did.

  Thinking of Hugo annoyed him, just as it always did.

  “You are so jealous, Joss,” Melissa had teased when Joss had made some scathing comment about the amoral male whore who made more money for The White House—from both male and female clients—than any other.

  “I’m not jealous,” he’d said, only partly lying. “I just don’t trust him. He’s sly and self-serving and he’d sell us all in a heartbeat if he thought he could make a penny.”

  Melissa had laughed. “Poor Hugo! What an opinion you have of him.”

  Joss snorted now as he thought about her defense of the loathsome man. Was he jealous? He didn’t think so. Although it was true that Hugo was far more popular than Joss had ever been.

  Of course, Joss had drawn the line at servicing male clients.

  Hugo, Joss believed, would fuck a knothole in a fence if it paid him to do so.

  Not only was he amoral, he also had a dangerous sense of humor and it amused him no end that Joss disliked him. He made a concerted effort to discompose Joss in any way he could: parading through the hallways naked and displaying his shockingly huge cock seemed to be his favorite method, but he was always coming up with new ways to annoy
him.

  For example, just moments earlier the sleek, snake-like, untrustworthy whore had waved around the letter he’d received from the new client who’d booked their diamond suite for the entire evening.

  “I almost feel like I should pay her for the privilege of this evening,” Hugo had told Joss with an evil-sounding laugh when Joss had had the misfortune to run into him outside Melissa’s study. “I just spoke to Marcus, who met her carriage, and he said her figure was delicious. As for her face?” He snickered. “Who cares if she looks like the back end of a mule if she keeps her mask on?”

  Joss tried to ignore the other man, but Hugo went out of his way to place himself in Joss’s path.

  Even the way Hugo dressed was irritating and affected: black leather breeches, black linens, a dull black silk waistcoat with onyx buttons, and supple black leather riding boots—although Joss knew for a fact the man had never ridden a horse in his life.

  “Listen to this, Gormley,” Hugo had said.

  Joss could hardly avoid listening as Hugo had been standing in front of the office door when Joss returned from his errand—almost as if he’d been waiting for him, which he probably had.

  Melissa would frown on Joss beating her highest earning whore to a pulp, so he crossed his arms and stared down at Hugo.

  “What.”

  Hugo was not put off by either Joss’s tone, dead stare, or bigger body.

  “Listen to this,” he said.

  “I want to give myself body and soul to a demanding master ….”

  Hugo had assumed the stance of a Shakespearean actor declaiming a soliloquy as he read the rest of the half-page letter.

  Joss wanted to tell him to shut up and to go sod himself, but the more Hugo read; the more interested Joss became.

  It was as if this woman—some stranger—had opened his head and looked at his brain: the part that showed his deepest, most private and primitive sexual desires. And then she’d written them all down on paper.

  A piece of paper that had the misfortune to end up in the hands of a man who in no way deserved it.

  Hugo hooted loudly when he finished reading, startling Joss out of his fugue.

  ​The shorter man had smirked and grabbed his crotch. “Good God! I’m hard enough to break rocks. I’d better get my arse over to the diamond suite before she catches fire.” He’d strode off chuckling.