His Countess (Victorian Decadence Book 3) Read online

  His blows became harder as her shaking intensified and Alys saw, with a bolt of shock, that she was leaking between her spread thighs, almost as if she—

  Just then the woman threw back her head—barely able to move given the nature of her bondage—and Alys heard her hoarse cry even through the thick walls.

  Gideon tossed aside his whip and mounted her as quickly and violently as Alys had once seen her father’s breeding stallion mount a mare.

  He’d bound her low, so he had to spread his feet wide, bending forward and resting one hand on the settee back to support his weight while he thrust savagely into her.

  Alys’s eyes were drawn to the place between his legs, to where his testicles, no longer pendulous, had drawn up snug to his body as he pounded into the woman’s immobilized form without mercy.

  Suddenly, every sinew and muscle in his body hardened and he rammed into her with a particularly brutal thrust and then held her as his body spasmed, his hips jerking as he filled her with his seed.

  Alys closed her eyes and collapsed against the cold stone wall, her face hot with shame as her body gave up the struggle and shook with the force of her climax.

  Chapter Seven

  Gideon was up before the cock’s crow the following morning, feeling more himself than he’d done in months, perhaps even years.

  He’d sent the girls packing once Jackson had given him the sign that Lady Taunton was safely back in her room. He’d then fallen asleep grinning and—thankfully—spent and flaccid.

  He’d woken up bright-eyed after a night completely free of tossing and turning. And all because of nosey Lady Taunton.

  He dressed in his riding kit and headed down to the breakfast room, which he’d seen but never eaten in yet. He arrived to find the room dark and cold. Tickle—somehow attuned to his movements in this vast, rambling house—popped up behind him. Although popped wasn’t probably the correct verb.

  “Ah, good morning your lordship. Er, were you looking for breakfast?”

  Gideon thought about saying he’d been looking for the stables, but decided the old man was only trying to be helpful. Besides, after the explosive orgasm he’d experienced last night he felt benevolent toward all of mankind.

  “I’m feeling peckish,” he admitted.

  “Ah.”

  Gideon waited, but there seemed to be nothing forthcoming. “Perhaps you might send some toast, two eggs, and a pot of extremely hot coffee to the library.”

  “Ah.” The old man nodded, as if only now hearing the order. “Very good, sir.”

  Gideon frowned as he watched the old gimmer shuffle away. Well, the new servants from London would arrive soon and today was the day he’d picked to interview for most of the lesser positions. He turned on his heel and strode toward the library, his thoughts on the servant situation.

  Mr. Smith had responded quickly to his telegram, with the good news that his steward was already at work engaging several tight-lipped servants for Gideon. Smith was a sod and managed to have his lovers living right in his house without facing prosecution. If Smith could do it, certainly Gideon could employ some servants of his own to set the tone? He probably should have consulted the man far sooner and would have spared himself a lot of aggravation in London. But better late than never.

  He jogged up a flight of stairs, his mind returning to last night’s entertainment. His need for decorum had dramatically reduced with the knowledge that her ladyship, whom he’d been foolishly, not to mention uncharacteristically, concerned to protect from his debauchery not only knew of his antics but actively sought them out.

  Gideon began to stiffen at the memory of last night, already anticipating tonight. He grinned. He was particularly looking forward to staring her in the eye over the dinner table, if not sooner.

  He’d been bloody tempted to slip into that corridor and avail himself of the countess’s peep after Jackson reported she’d returned to her room. But he simply couldn’t bring himself to spy on her. For all that she was getting a free show, he suspected she was the closest thing to a virgin. According to Pendleton, whose lips had moved constantly, the last earl had barely come home four times a year, a fact that had reduced him in the eyes of his tenantry and the local townsfolk as her ladyship was much beloved.

  Gideon had shamelessly tweezed gossip from the man, learning, among other things, that this marriage had been the earl’s second. His first had lasted for twelve years and ended childless. His lordship had married the current countess when she’d not yet turned seventeen and there had been much speculation in the neighborhood when she, too, failed to produce an heir or even fall pregnant.

  Gideon entered the library, pausing as he always did to admire the magnificence of the room. He’d sent a message to London, describing the woodwork to Edward Fanshawe, who’d started out life as a carpenter.

  He doubted he’d done justice to describing the artistry of the work, but Fanshawe could see for himself since he’d accepted Gideon’s invitation to visit.

  He knew he should probably send them a message to push the visit off for a while—a long while, likely—but he’d decided to stick with the plan. Besides, none of them were strangers to a bit of rough living. And he also suspected Lady Taunton would bring the place up to snuff quickly enough—at least three guest rooms and a few common rooms—knowing there would soon be visitors.

  He grinned to himself as he dropped into the old leather chair behind his desk and began perusing his day’s long list of tasks.

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  “Goodness, my lady, you’re in a fidget this morning,” Thursby observed in a grumpy tone as she finished braiding Alys’s hair—badly—and fastened it into the simple coronet Alys favored.

  She was glad Thursby didn’t usually wake and wander into her rooms until nine at the earliest. Alys had woken at dawn and gone for a mad ride on her mare, Nike. The poor girl hadn’t been ridden so hard in years and Alys felt like a brute when she brought her back to the stables, lathered.

  “Ah, my lady, took the old gal out for a jaunt,” Silber said as he waved away one of the stable lads and came to help her dismount.

  He lifted her to the ground easily, his strong hands on her waist never failing to send what she now understood were spirals of sexual stimulation through her body. It was lucky for her that her face was already hot from riding when she looked the long way up to meet his eyes.

  Silber was a few years younger than Sebastian but Alys had always found the gentle, humorous man far more responsible and mature. She wished she didn’t also find his matter-of-fact touches and powerful body so . . . distracting. No doubt he would be horrified if he knew what feelings she’d entertained toward him over the years.

  She gave him an awkward smile. “I shouldn’t have been so hard on her,” she confessed.

  He smiled as he stroked Nike’s neck with his massive but gentle hands. “It’s my opinion a good hard ride was exactly what she needed.” He looked down at her with the same respectful smile but . . . was that a glint of something in his eyes? Amusement?

  Good God! What was wrong with her? Just because she was a wanton didn’t mean every man she saw was thinking about the things that Gideon Banks was doing.

  Silber cocked his head, a crease of concern between his brown eyes. “Is aught amiss, my lady?”

  “No, of course not. Give her a double helping of grain,” she said as she turned and strode back toward the house, her legs like rubber beneath her heavy habit.

  She’d come up to her room to find Thursby waiting. “And where have you been?” she demanded, as if she were the mistress and not the servant.

  “Out for a ride.”

  “Hmmph.”

  Alys would have liked to fire Thursby, but she’d been forced on Alys by Sebastian because Thursby had once been maid to Sebastian’s mother. And now that she could dismiss the woman—who was a dreadful maid and an unhappy drunk—she decided it was pointless. After all, she’d tolerated her for years, and where else would the wom
an go?

  “I’ll have a bath, Thursby.”

  After grunting again, the old woman went to order the water and then left Alys to herself.

  So, she’d lingered over her bath and then lingered over her usual breakfast, trying to linger even more until she’d recaptured some of her calm and reserve. But now it was past eleven and she could linger no longer, so she rang for Thursby.

  “You look tired,” the old woman said.

  Alys met her maid’s red-rimmed but curious eyes in the mirror and was impressed that she’d been able to muster such a bland smile.

  “I had a poor night’s sleep,” she said, no less than the truth.

  Thursby’s hands froze and an expression of avidity spread across her face. “Was it because—”

  “No!” They both startled at her sharp voice. “I heard nothing.” That was true, although she’d seen plenty.

  Thursby’s jaw worked from side to side and Alys knew what she’d say before she said it.

  “It’s sinful you being here. You should be in the Dower House like a respectable woman.”

  Alys had to bite her tongue. Instead she said, “I’m biding my time, Thursby. But I can hardly ask him while he’s so obsessed with Foxrun ant the tenant structures.”

  Thursby grunted and fastened Alys’s plain gold cross around her neck.

  Alys was surprised she didn’t burst into flame at its touch. She was a filthy, wanton sinner. Not only for what she’d watched and reveled in, but for her disgusting thoughts about Silber and her burning impatience for tonight.

  “My lady?”

  She glanced up to find Thursby frowning. “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied, standing. “Now,” she said briskly, “I want to go into Taunton today. I had planned for a shopping expedition to Bath after his lordship picked out the patterns he wanted, but he’s indicated he does not care. Therefore, I will buy everything in Taunton.”

  Thursby sucked in a shocked breath, “That will be—”

  “Dear,” Alys finished with a grim smile. “Yes, it will be extremely dear, and doubly so when I tell them how fast we want it. But that is what his lordship wants, so that is what he will get.” She turned away from her black clad reflection, another black piece of clothing flitting through her head, causing an uncomfortable throb beneath her heavy skirts before she forcibly shoved the image of last night’s corsets from her mind.

  She’d just laid her shawl on her shoulders when a light knock at the door made her turn.

  “Enter,” she called out.

  The door opened on Susan. The slattern was wearing a whore’s idea of a maid uniform and her slouchy posture was insolent, which matched her amused expression perfectly. “His lordship wants to see you in the library.”

  Thursby gasped behind her and Alys inhaled—and then just kept on inhaling, until she thought she might explode.

  Thursby bristled and stepped around her. “How dare he summon her ladyship like a servant! You will address—”

  Alys lifted a hand and Thursby stopped immediately. “What is your name?” she asked, even though she’d made it her business to know it. Whatever Susan saw in Alys’s eyes made her straighten slightly.

  “Susan, er, my lady.” She dropped a hasty, clumsy curtsy.

  “Thank you, Susan. You may go.”

  Susan shut the door so quickly she almost snapped her nose off.

  “That slut!”

  “Thursby!” Alys snapped. “I will not tolerate such language.”

  “How can—”

  “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

  “But surely you’ll—”

  Alys frowned and her maid sighed and stomped away.

  Alys’s legs wobbled as she made her way toward the library. Would she even be able to look him in the eyes after what she’d seen last night? Oh God, just thinking about his body and the things he’d done with it left her positively weak.

  You want him to do those things with you.

  “No!” she blurted, startling herself.

  Oh yes.

  All right, so it was true. She’d tossed and turned all night imagining herself with him—doing those things.

  You need to go see the vicar.

  Alys grimaced at the thought, realized she’d passed the library, and turned around.

  Just go in there, she told herself.

  Just—

  The door swung inward, revealing the object of her ruminations. He gave a start when he saw her, his gorgeous face wearing a look of pleased surprise—but all she could see was his feral grin of pleasure from last night.

  “Er.”

  “Ah, my lady. I was just about to head to the weapon’s room.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You were?”

  “Yes, today is the day I’m interviewing for the servant positions—remember? Tickle said the armory would be the best room to speak to people, being that it’s large and on the ground floor.” His smile turned to that grin he’d sported last night—when he’d sported nothing but a smile. “He also mumbled something about Mrs. Tickle, dirty boots, and carpets.”

  Alys tried to think of something, anything, to say, but could only nod.

  His brow furrowed. “I say, I hope I haven’t over-stepped? I asked you to join me with the interviews because you’re so knowledgeable both about the house and our servant needs, but if you’re not feeling quite the thing—”

  “No, of course I’d be glad to help. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten it was today.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it if you’ve made plans.”

  “Oh, I was just going to visit the draper in Taunton and choose some fabrics.”

  He frowned, this time not with concern, but irritation. “I’ll send somebody for them—they can come out with their,” he churned his hand in the air, “Well, whatever.” He seemed to realize they were still standing on the threshold to the library and pushed the door open and called out after his shoulder, “Lucy, go down to the kitchen and have somebody trot off to Taunton. Tell them not to return without the draper and his entire bag of tricks.”

  There was an exceedingly long pause, during which time his lordship’s expression turned thunderous. He’d just opened his mouth to say something when an exaggerated sigh stopped him.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The silence that followed this shirty response was deafening.

  His lordship’s jaw worked back and forth and Alys though he might explode. But he seemed to recall her presence just in time and whipped around, catching her gawking. He gave her a smile, forced this time, and shut the door with a sharp click.

  “Well,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs, “Shall we?”

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  It looked like the entire town had turned out. While it was true there were many seeking work in the village, it also seemed like every person who needed a job had brought a small audience with them. Everyone wanted to see the new earl, one of the wealthiest men in Britain. And the new Earl of Taunton did not fail to put on a show.

  The first thing he did was order the kitchen to provide tea and biscuits. For everyone.

  Upon hearing his bellowed order, Alys excused herself and made her way through the growing crowd until she saw just who she’d been hoping to find, Jerry Harlow, the baker’s seventeen-year-old son, who was desperate for a position in his lordship’s stables.

  “Hello, Jerry.”

  “My lady.” He dropped an awkward bow, his eyes jumping around to take in the luxury of the ancient corridor he was waiting in.

  “Will you do me a great favor?”

  “Yes, ‘course, my lady.”

  “I need you to get Silber to hitch up the gig and run you into town. Take everything at your parents’ bakery and tell them to send a bill to his lordship. Stop at The Jolly Taxpayer and fetch a keg of cider and another of ale.”

  Jerry’s eyes slid nervously toward the line ahead of him.

  She smiled. “Don’t you worry, when
you get back, I’ll introduce you to the earl before you’d ever reach the front of the line.”

  He grinned and nodded, his thick brown hair flopping. “Aye, my lady.”

  “Good, now hurry!”

  She next went toward the kitchen, encountering a stricken looking Mrs. Tickle halfway there. “Oh, my lady! Tickle tells me his lordship—”

  Alys laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry, I’ve just sent Jerry Harlow into town to his father’s bakery.”

  Poor Mrs. Tickle sagged so quickly Alys feared she would collapse. “But his lordship will expect—”

  “I’ll deal with his lordship.”

  When Alys arrived up at the table the earl was chatting with Nelly Benson’s twin daughters. Alys stared hard enough at his lordship to burn holes through him. But—amazingly— he appeared not to have noticed they were nubile fifteen-year-olds. At least his lascivious leer was nowhere in sight. Indeed, he was behaving positively avuncularly.

  “Hello girls,” Alys said as she settled into the chair beside him.

  The girls dropped identical curtseys, “Hello my lady.”

  Somebody, likely the footmen at Mrs. Tickle’s direction, had brought in a heavy trestle table and two thronelike chairs. She felt like a fifteenth century liege lord taking tithes from her vassals.

  Gideon turned to her. “These young ladies say they are interested in chambermaid positions,” the corner of his mouth pulled up and her face heated at what she saw in his eyes.

  Her mouth tightened, both at his wicked look and her own body’s reaction. “We do need chambermaids. But these are not your type, my lord.”

  All the humor drained from his face and his pupils shrank to pinheads, his lips suddenly thinning. “I’m going to pretend you did not just say that to me,” he said, his soft voice sharper than the lash he’d wielded last night.

  Alys felt a rush of shame at his words.

  He was correct to be angry: he might be engaging in deviant sexual antics, but he was not doing so with young girls. The women he’d brought with him were well above twenty and clearly skilled in their business.

  “You’re correct, my lord. I apologize. That was unworthy.”