Chapter 13

A fter arriving at the Billingsworth ball on Saturday night with Gwen and Somerton, Jo danced with Sheff and visited with her friends. She recalled what Sheff had told her about being back at the Siren's Call by midnight—or thereabouts—and decided she could leave soon.

The question was how?

She didn't think Gwen and Somerton would want to leave yet. And she couldn't simply hail a hack. Could she? Perhaps Min or Ellis would have an idea.

Going to the last place she'd seen them, Jo found Ellis seated against the wall. She didn't look bored, exactly, but she also didn't seem to be enjoying herself. But why would she?

Jo slid onto the empty chair beside her. "Do you think I could leave the ball without causing a stir?" she asked quietly.

Ellis looked at her sideways. "That depends on what you mean by a stir. The duchess will not be pleased."

Exhaling, Jo slumped against the back of the chair. "I suppose not."

"There's a ladies' entertainment room," Ellis said with a sly smile.

"What is that?"

"Gaming, liquor, probably ribald jests. Lady Billingsworth is known for offering a ladies' version of the men's gaming room."

"What a marvelous idea. Could we hide there for the rest of the ball?" Jo asked.

Ellis shrugged. "We could try. Though I daren't stay long. The duchess will notice, and I'm supposed to be available to Min."

"Min can join us," Jo said.

"Oh no," Ellis said firmly, shaking her head. "The duchess would lose her temper, and then the fact that she'd lost her temper would make matters worse."

"I can see how that would happen," Jo murmured. "But could we at least go for a short while?"

"We can say we were in one of the retiring rooms." Ellis rose.

Jo leapt up, eager to depart the cloying heat of the ballroom. She followed Ellis into the antechamber and then along a corridor.

"Where are you going?"

The duchess's shrill voice sounded from behind them. Jo and Ellis exchanged looks of disappointment before turning to face her.

"To the retiring room," Jo said brightly.

"That isn't the way." The duchess moved toward them. "I might think you were trying to find Lady Billingsworth's ladies' gaming room, but you must know that is only for those of us who are married."

"Is that where you are going?" Jo asked. She glanced at Ellis who pressed her lips together in an apparent attempt not to smile.

The duchess's eyes narrowed. "You need to return to the ball," she said, as if that was a response to Jo's question. "You don't attend enough events as it is, and you must be seen. You must engage . You need to show people that you are up to the challenge of becoming a countess."

Jo wanted to ask why it was any of their business, but she feared she knew the answer. Instead, she summoned a smile. "I will do that. Excuse me." But before she could return to the ballroom, the duchess held up her hand.

"Just a moment. I need to speak with you first." She looked—briefly—at Ellis. "Do excuse us."

Ellis blinked, then gave Jo an apologetic look before hastening back to the ballroom.

Jo braced herself for a possible lecture.

The duchess moved into an alcove and motioned for Jo to join her. She spoke quietly. "This isn't going to work."

"What is that?" Jo asked, thinking she could mean any number of things.

"Your behavior. Your working at a gaming hell." The duchess's eyes blazed. "You must stop working there. You cannot be a duchess and work at a club!" She kept her voice low, but her tone managed to remain shrill.

Jo hesitated to respond because she didn't know what to say. But the duchess wasn't finished.

"Furthermore, when you do attend events, apparently you haven't the slightest inkling how to behave properly. You insulted Lady Balliol at that rout the other night. And you actually drew your soon-to-be father-in-law into the matter! I can't believe even you would be so crude."

Even her. So crude. As if some crudeness were to be expected from her.

Jo didn't recall mentioning the duke at all. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean about His Grace. He was not discussed."

"Not by name, apparently, but you indicated that one's position was not representative of good behavior." She narrowed her eyes at Jo, and her anger was palpable. "What else would you have meant besides my husband, who behaves as if he has no decorum whatsoever?"

It was difficult for Jo not to become upset in the face of this woman's ire. "That is not what I was trying to say. Lady Balliol—I didn't even know who she was—gave me the cut direct and was very rude." Jo felt herself growing more agitated. "Should I not stand up for myself? When I am the Countess of Shefford, I don't think I should tolerate such discourtesy, do you?"

"You should never be the Countess of Shefford!" the duchess ground out, her lip curling. "You are no one from nothing. Worse than that, your parents are the worst sort of people. Your mother is in trade, and a ghastly one at that, and your father's pathetic attempts to gain a foothold in Society are pitiable."

Jo gaped at the duchess. Fury surged through her. It was one thing to insult her, but to denigrate her parents? She opened her mouth to speak, but Sheff stepped between them.

"Mother, you cannot speak to my betrothed like that," he bit out. Though his back was to her, Jo could imagine the storm in his eyes as he practically growled at the duchess.

"Come, Mama, let's find you a glass of wine." Min was there too.

Jo then saw Ellis standing off to the side. She'd fetched Sheff and Min to help. Jo wanted to hug her. But she couldn't. She was still shaking with anger from what the duchess had said.

"Go, Mother," Sheff demanded. "Before I say something I will regret as you have already done. I will expect a complete and detailed apology— in writing —to Jo tomorrow. You will show it to me first so I can determine if it is acceptable."

He was blocking Jo's view of the duchess, which was disappointing. Jo imagined her jaw dropping and her eyes goggling. She also never expected to receive an apology of any kind. What she most wanted was to understand why the duchess hated her so much. It seemed to go beyond simply not approving of her. But perhaps that was all it was.

"You must rethink this betrothal," the duchess said. "You can't marry a woman who works at a gaming hell. You just can't ."

"She won't work there forever, Mother. Not when we are wed. You're going to have to become accustomed to having Jo in our family."

The duchess made a strangled sound in her throat. Then she marched away.

Min sent Jo an apologetic look and turned to follow her mother. Ellis joined her, leaving Jo to stare at Sheff's back.

But then he turned, and she saw the concern in his dark blue eyes.

"Jo," he whispered, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. His glove was soft against her flesh. He muttered a curse, then whipped the offending accessory off and pressed his bare palm to her face. "I'm so sorry for the things my mother said."

"You can't be sorry for that," Jo said quietly. "And I don't think she will be. She doesn't need to write me an apology. I don't want it."

"Dammit." He breathed the word, his eyes shuttering briefly. When he opened them, they fixed on her with a ferocity that made her breath catch. "I will make sure you are never alone with her again. No, I should halt this entire ill-plotted scheme." He nodded. "Tomorrow, I'll tell her we aren't marrying."

Jo clutched his arm—the one that was still at his side. " No. After what she said, I'm tempted to make you marry me. You can't let her win, and she'll see that as a victory, especially after what she said tonight and the fact that you witnessed it."

"You make a good argument—for actual marriage," he said wryly, his hand moving from her face to her collarbone. "But how can I ask you to continue with this ruse after the way she treated you? I can't expect you to put up with that."

"I won't. I held my own with her." Right up to the part when she'd denigrated Jo's parents. Jo had still been formulating her response when Sheff had arrived. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard you saying you didn't have to tolerate discourtesy." His lips spread in a heart-stopping grin. "That was brilliant. Then I heard what she said about your parents," he added soberly. "What did I miss?"

"Just her telling me I had to stop working at the Siren's Call. And she took me to task for insulting Lady Balliol the other night at the rout. Apparently, it's fine for Lady Balliol to cut me, but when I take offense and address her rudeness, I am in the wrong." Jo rolled her eyes.

"When did that happen?" he asked, his brows dipping.

"When I went to the retiring room."

He searched her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She lifted a shoulder—the one he wasn't touching. "You were already upset about those other women."

He took his hand from her, and she nearly asked him to put it back. Raking it through his hair, he ruined the style somewhat. "This is unsustainable. We must put an end to this farce."

Jo saw the anger and worry in the lines in his brow. She lifted her hand from his arm and brushed his hair back into place. "I can manage. Perhaps we can just keep our engagements to the park." Except she could just as easily face a Lady Balliol and her superiority there.

Too late, she realized the nature of his expression had changed. The anger and worry were gone—mostly—and had been replaced by hunger. Heat blazed through her, and she knew she had no time to lose if she wanted to escape before she broke her own rule.

The rogue rules flashed in her mind. She was alone with him. She would gladly flirt with him. And if she wasn't careful, she was going to give him a chance…

To kiss her, at least.

"You should go," he rasped.

She gentled her hand against his head and slid it down the back, tucking it into the top of his collar until her palm met his nape. Unfortunately, she had not removed her glove as he had.

"I should, but I won't. Not just yet." She stood on her toes and angled her head slightly before pressing her lips to his.

His arms came around her, pulling her body against his. The contact with him intensified her longing. She pressed her fingers into him and slid her other arm around his waist.

Eyes closed, Jo reveled in his embrace. His lips moved over hers with devastating precision, stirring her desire. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, and it was all he needed to claim her mouth completely.

She was suddenly swept into a realm of dark need and brilliant ecstasy. Her body ached for his, to be possessed in the same way he'd taken over the kiss she'd started.

His hands clutched at her back and backside, pressing her into him so she could feel the hard length of his arousal. Jo kissed him ravenously, as if it were the most important thing in the world—absolutely vital to her survival. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of them together, demanding, giving, sharing, relishing.

Voices sounded from somewhere along the corridor. They broke apart, their breathing rapid. Sheff stepped back, his hand moving across his mouth as he worked to catch his breath.

Jo brushed her fingertips along the sides of her mouth and inhaled deeply. "Sorry," she murmured. "That was my fault."

"Don't ever apologize for kissing me. As you could tell, I didn't mind."

She chanced a look at him—she didn't want to, for fear she'd leap on him again, but they could not continue. His expression was sardonic, his eyes still glowing with heat.

"I am going to leave the ball now, if that's all right with you."

"You don't ever need to ask me permission for anything either," he said. "How will you get home?"

"I'll walk if need be," she said drily despite being quite serious.

He pulled on his glove and offered her his arm. "I'd take you, but that would be potentially ruinous since this betrothal is fake. I'll find someone to convey you."

She put her hand on his sleeve. "Thank you."

"I'll fix things with my mother," he said as they walked back toward the ballroom.

Though Jo couldn't imagine how, she knew he would try. She felt quite badly for him, because while Jo's time enduring the duchess was temporary, poor Sheff had to deal with her forever.

S omerton and his wife had taken Jo home from the ball last night, leaving Sheff to decide if he ought to confront his mother or wait until the following day. But here it was Sunday, and Sheff hadn't been able to bring himself to go to Henlow House. The disgust and anger he felt toward his mother was too great. Greater than he'd ever experienced. Indeed, he wondered where the woman he'd grown up with had gone. She'd never been this vitriolic or awful, even when Sheff's father was at his worst.

Why did she loathe Jo so very much?

It wasn't just that Sheff was upset by the duchess's attitude. He was hurt. Because Jo was an extraordinary woman. She was helping him, and she'd been a good friend. Sheff had grown to care for her.

Deeply.

So, he'd spent today focused on her instead of his mother, and he didn't regret a moment. What he did regret was bringing Jo into the mess of his life. But he would end that tonight.

She'd asked him not to end the scheme, and he would not. At least not immediately. He would leave London, however. Then his mother would leave Jo—and him—alone.

Tomorrow, he would travel to Weston for the remainder of the summer. For the first time in his life, he would seek solitude and quiet contemplation. Away from his parents. Away from Society. Away from his own reputation.

Sheff accepted his hat from his valet and made his way out of the Albany, where he lived, and caught a hack to the Siren's Call. He hoped Jo would have time to speak with him.

He entered the common room and immediately saw her standing at a table chatting with the occupants—three gentlemen Sheff knew somewhat. As he watched her laugh and smile, his chest pulled. He was going to miss her.

Becky approached him with a smile. "Evening, Sheff. I'll grab your ale."

"Thank you," he said absentmindedly, his focus still on Jo. When what Becky had said actually permeated his brain, he touched her arm before she could walk away. "No. Could you tell Jo to go to the supply cupboard or whatever you call it?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "Why?"

"Because I want to speak with her privately." He flashed a brief, closed-lipped smile.

"I will," Becky said, taking herself off as Sheff made his way to the cupboard.

Only one of the lanterns was burning when he stepped inside. He moved away from the door and surveyed the shelves as he waited for Jo.

A moment later, the door swung open, and she came inside. "Becky said you were here."

He turned to face her, and the truth smacked him in the face more surely than any pugilist. He was falling in love with her. He'd no idea what that meant until now. And he still had no idea if it would last. But in this moment, he felt incredibly strong emotion for her.

"I needed to see you," he said, his voice sounding rough. He coughed. "I'm going to leave London tomorrow."

She'd closed the door and now stood in front of it. Her brow pleated as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "Is that wise?"

"It seems the best option, particularly given your argument on why we shouldn't just dissolve the betrothal right now." It occurred to Sheff that he could force her hand. He had only to do something scandalous to provoke her to cry off.

"I won't give your mother the satisfaction," she said with a defiance that only made him fall harder for her. "Are you leaving town now in order to accelerate the end of this scheme? Do you plan to cause a scandal wherever it is that you're going?"

"Not immediately. I am following our original plan."

"The plan does not involve you leaving town mid-Season. People will question the betrothal if you leave. They may presume you have regrets."

"I certainly regret proposing this ridiculous scheme." He went to brush his hand through his hair only to meet his hat. Taking it off, he set it on the table. "I'm going to tell my mother that I'm visiting Bane—Banemore—to support him in his grief."

"I know who Bane is," Jo said softly. "Will you really do that? I know you two are close friends. He would likely appreciate your company. At least, I think he would, but I don't know him as well as I have come to know you."

He hoped not. When he thought of how close they'd grown, of their shared attraction, their kisses, he didn't want to imagine her with any other man.

"Actually, I hadn't thought to actually visit him. He hasn't replied to my letters. I'm not sure he wants a visitor."

"Want and need aren't the same thing."

They felt that way when he considered Jo. He wanted and needed her most desperately. "Perhaps I will travel north to see him." He had plenty of time to do that and make it to Weston before August when he would meet with his friends for their annual frolic.

Why did that not hold the same allure as in years past? Hell, he'd fallen squarely into the trap he'd feared. He was in love, and he wanted to spend time with the woman who'd stolen his heart instead of his closest friends.

Wasn't she his close friend?

Perhaps that was the emotion he was feeling—the love and camaraderie one felt for a dear friend. Except he didn't want to shag his other friends. Just Jo.

He could try to find excuses for the way he felt, or attempt to explain it away, but there was no denying the truth of things. There was also no point in accepting it or pursuing it. He was alone in his feelings, and he would remain that way.

"You're leaving tomorrow, then?" she asked, her gaze meeting his almost tentatively.

He nodded. "I plan to speak with my mother first. I will give her strict instructions to leave you alone. Any communication she wants to have with you must be with Min present. I will demand she not expect anything from you. No Society engagements. No leaving your job."

Frowning, Jo put her hand on her hip. "I have clothes that you've paid for that I haven't even worn."

"Consider them payment for the extra harassment you've endured." He blew out a breath. "I can't believe I was foolish enough to think this would work. Instead of relief, I've invited a whole new campaign of disappointment from my mother."

"It goes beyond that," Jo said with a great deal of irony. "I do think this plan may have worked if you'd chosen someone other than me."

"I didn't want anyone else." He'd chosen her because she wouldn't suffer when this was finished. But that claim—that he didn't want anyone else—meant so much more now.

"You shouldn't want me," she whispered.

"I know." He picked up his hat and started toward the door, but he would have to pass her.

He tried. He really did.

But her gaze locked with his, and when he reached her, he simply…stopped. She took his hat and set it back on the table. "Kiss me before you go, then."

He wanted to be gentle. He clasped her face and lowered his head. But the moment his lips met hers, he lost control. His mouth slanted over hers. When she clasped his lapels and pulled him against her, he groaned.

Her movement caused him to push her back against the door. Her hands moved up his front and curled around his neck as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She met his kiss eagerly, grasping at his nape and hair.

Sheff caressed her face, her neck, her collarbones. Their kisses were long and deep, relentless in their passion as they explored one another. They made inarticulate sounds, their bodies moving with each other to feel as much as possible.

She dug her fingers into his neck as he kissed down her neck. He licked the hollow at the base of her throat, and she moaned her approval.

Desperate to touch her bare flesh, he lifted her skirt and skimmed his hand along her thigh. She widened her stance, then lifted her leg to curl it about his waist in open invitation. He moved his hands to her backside and guided her other leg around him, lifting her so that he held her pinned against the door.

She raised her skirts, bunching them between their bodies. His rigid cock, constrained by his clothing, pressed against her wet heat. All he had to do was unbutton his fall and sink into her.

God, how he wanted that. But not here, not in a storage cupboard.

She ground against him and pulled his head up, her mouth claiming his as she squeezed her legs around him. Sheff pumped his hips, his body raging with need. He swung her around to the table, setting her on the edge.

He slipped his hand between her legs while he ravaged her mouth. She opened for him, her foot moving around his leg.

Stroking her flesh, he brought his fingers to her sex. He paused—his hand and their kiss—and looked into her eyes. "You must stop me if that's what you want."

"I do not want you to stop. I want you to make me come."

"Like this?" He found her clitoris and moved his fingertips over the sensitive bud, slowly at first, then with more pressure and speed.

"Yes," she hissed. Her eyes closed, and her head tipped back.

Sheff watched her face, desire and need etched into every contour. Her lips were parted as she whimpered with each stroke of his fingers. He pushed a finger into her wet sheath, gliding easily inside. He pumped once, twice. She cried out, and he kissed her, stealing the sound and devouring it for himself.

With two fingers, he thrust into her, curling them to find that elusive inner place that would drive her toward the brink. He could feel her muscles clenching as she sought release. Nothing had ever felt so good. So right.

But it wasn't enough. He wanted to do what she asked—to make her come. But in the most spectacular way possible.

"Lie back," he rasped, guiding her backward atop the table. Then he pushed her skirts up to her waist with his free hand, exposing her sex to him. He watched for a moment as he fucked her with his fingers. He'd never seen anything so arousing in his life.

Her hips moved with him, her body seeking whatever he would give her. Needing to taste her as well as give her even more, he bent his head and licked her clitoris.

She cried out his name and clutched at his head. He pushed at her thigh, making her open to him even more. She slid back on the table and braced her feet on the edge. Moving one hand to her backside, he held her as he drove his tongue deep into her sex.

Shuddering, her hips bucked up. He brought his hand around to her front and held her down, gently, as he slid his fingers into her once more, his lips and tongue teasing her clitoris until her body began to quiver.

Her muscles clenched, and she stiffened as her orgasm exploded. A high-pitched keening sound filled the room, but she muffled it with her hand; at least, he assumed that was what she was doing. He didn't look, for he had a job to finish.

He moved his fingers inside her, licking and suckling her clitoris, until she began to calm. Then he kissed her mound, her thigh, her hip.

"I hope that kiss was satisfactory." He stared down at her sprawled atop the table, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling.

"Quite," she murmured, her voice drunk with sexual satisfaction.

Sheff's cock was begging for release, but this was already so much more than he'd anticipated. "I should go."

She opened her eyes and bolted up. Her gaze dipped to his groin. "If you think I'm letting you leave like that, you would be wrong."

He arched a brow. "What do you suggest? I pleasure myself while you watch?"

Her eyes rounded, then narrowed to seductive slits. "That is a marvelous idea, actually. But I've my own plan." She pushed her skirts down and slid from the table. Moving to the door, she gave him a saucy smile. "Grab your hat and follow me."

Sheff bent to pluck his hat from where it had fallen to the floor. "What do you have planned?"

"Nothing you didn't already do to me." Her sultry expression made him groan as he imagined her mouth around his cock.

"If you insist."

Then he followed her from the cupboard and up the back stairs. She opened a door, and they arrived on a landing that looked familiar. He realized the other end was where he'd come up the stairs from the front door to her lodgings.

But she didn't lead him that way. She took him through an archway to a corridor and opened the first door on the right. "My chamber. I doubt my mother is here as she is likely at Marcel's, so you may be as loud as you like."

Sheff closed the door behind him as he followed her inside. "Marcel?"

"Her lover." She began to loosen her hair, setting the pins on a dressing table on the opposite side of the room.

As her dark locks began to fall around her shoulders, Sheff stood stock-still. He'd had more sexual experiences than he could count, but this was somehow the most intimate act he'd seen. When her hair was down, she removed her earrings and put them on the dresser with the pins. Then she turned and ran her fingers through her wavy hair.

Sheff crossed the room in just a few strides and swept her into his arms, grunting just before he kissed her. She kissed him back—ravenously—as she pushed at his coat.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he stepped back to toss his coat away. Then he collapsed into a chair near the hearth and pulled his boots off. His stockings followed them to the floor, and when he looked up, he saw that Jo had undone the front of her gown. The bodice fell, exposing her stays. Her breasts pressed up against the top, but not in the revealing way they did in her ball gowns. Her costume for the Siren's Call was more modest, and her undergarments covered more of the flesh he so desperately wanted to see.

After pulling the gown over her head, she set the garment over the back of the small chair at the dressing table. Then she removed the petticoat and draped it atop the gown.

Lifting her hands behind her back, she began to pull at the ties of the corset. Sheff had undressed enough women to know what she was doing. He moved toward her. "Turn."

Without comment, she presented her back, and he made quick work of divesting her of the garment. She took it from him and casually dropped it to the floor. "It's almost as though you've done that before," she murmured, a playful smile teasing her lips.

"I've never enjoyed it as much as just then." And he meant that. His gaze dipped to her breasts, her nipples visible through the thin lawn of her chemise.

She took his hand and pulled him toward the end of the bed. "You are exceptionally handsome," she remarked as she plucked at his cravat, expertly loosening the knot before pulling the silk away from his neck and letting it fall to the floor.

"It's almost as though you've done that before," he said, clasping her waist, then massaging her hip.

She smirked at him. "Can we not discuss our past experiences? I can't think of anything more tedious. Especially at this moment. I'm only interested in right here. Right now."

"Agreed."

She unbuttoned his waistcoat, and he shrugged out of it. She pushed it from him, and neither of them made an effort to catch the garment before it hit the floor.

Tugging the hem of his shirt from his breeches, she put her hands beneath the garment and ran her palms over his abdomen. Sheff whisked the shirt over his head and threw it across the room. She explored his chest, her fingers moving over his flesh, pausing here and there. Leaning forward, she licked one of his nipples. He groaned and cupped her backside.

She dropped onto the bed and unbuttoned his fall. His cock jerked as she pushed the breeches down over his hips. She tugged them farther down until he was able to kick them off, leaving him nude.

"Lovely," she breathed as she caressed his hips and thighs, her hands coming close to his groin but not close enough.

Sheff could barely contain himself. He wanted nothing more than to slide himself into her mouth and thrust back against her throat.

She curled her hand around his shaft finally, and he groaned low and long. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as she stroked him. He had no idea how long she worked him, her hand moving faster, then slowing once more. It was the most delicious torture.

He felt her mouth close around the tip of his cock. He sucked in a breath and lightly clasped her head. She cupped his balls, and he thought he might come right then.

Opening his eyes, he tipped his head down to watch her take him more deeply into her mouth, her tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft. He twined his fingers in her hair, utterly enchanted as he watched her pleasure him. His balls tightened. He really was going to come in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

He pulled away from her. "Jo, I can't."

She blinked up at him, her lips parted. "Are you going to leave?"

"God, no. I'm just not going to come in your mouth. Not when I want so desperately to feel your sex around my cock. Unless you want me to go?"

"I have a new rule," she said, pulling her legs up and scooting backward up the bed. "You have to spend the night with me before you leave town." She crooked her finger at him as she pushed back the covers of the bed.

Sheff grinned as he fell onto the bed and crawled up to join her. "You do make the rules. And I am honor bound to follow them."