Page 55 of A Season for Scandal (Deception and Discipline 2)

“You will stay right by my side.” He growled the words as a command. “You will not stray. You will not speak. You will do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She was far too elated to argue, though her quick agreement only seemed to make him even more growly.

He grasped her by the upper arm, just above her elbow, turning to face Mitchell, who was waiting for them.

The man gaped. “You’re bringing her in here? Send her home!”

“Shut up, Mitchell. It is not your place to tell me what to do.”

Josie refrained from sticking her tongue out at the man, but barely. Really? Send her home through the streets of London on her own? It was one thing for her to risk herself, but he clearly did not care what terrible fate might befall her. He was a cad, and she did not trust him farther than she could throw him, no matter what Elijah and Uncle Oliver said.

Her suspicion and dislike of Mitchell were quickly drowned out when the door opened, and she took her first steps into a gaming hell.

Chapter 30

Josie

Beyond the first door into the Tramp’s Den was not impressive, leading into a hall, dimly lit and completely undecorated. The door shut behind them, leaving them in the tiny, enclosed space, making her feel quite claustrophobic. The dark wood walls seemed ready to close in around them. A wood door was in front of them, muffling the sounds coming from within.

Mitchell stepped forward to rap on the door, and it swung open with a burst of sound, making Josie jump. It was a thick door. She had not realized how loud it would be on the other side. Her heart, already beating fast, pounded.

A massive mountain of a man stood in the doorway, eyeing them, his eyes lingering on her. The change in his expression was imperceptible, but she felt sure he realized she was no youth. After a moment, he stepped back, giving Elijah a nod, and Josie suspected if she had been on her own, she would not have been allowed entry.

Mitchell and Elijah seemed perfectly at home walking into the hell, Elijah’s fingers still firmly gripped around her arm. Josie stood out like a sore thumb amid the rowdy patrons, all gentlemen or nobility. Even those in various states of dishevelment were better clothed and not as dirty. Despite that, no one glanced twice at her, far more interested in their own doings.

There were some men she recognized from the ballrooms of London. The atmosphere was rowdy, and most of them were already deep in their cups, oblivious to anything but their bets.

The room was far more lushly decorated than she would have guessed from the entrance, with deep reds and golds, though the actual fabrics were cheaper and tawdrier than those found in more respectable establishments. Josie’s eyes darted back and forth, taking in everything.

Finally, she looked up at the high ceiling and saw a man standing on a balcony, looking down over the crowd like a king surveying his subjects. He must be the owner of the place. Standing next to him was a young woman, with her long hair down and covering her breasts… but nothing else was. She looked like Lady Godiva, naked but for her hair and a collar around her neck. Josie stared until she almost stumbled over her feet. Elijah moved her along, and she was not watching where she was going.

“That’s the Tramp and his lady,” Elijah said into her ear, not bothering to whisper. She would not have heard him, anyway but needed to be close so she could make out his words over the din. “He keeps her on a collar and leash, naked, with a tail plugged into her bottom, and occasionally parades her through the hell. I might take some notes on how to make a woman behave if you keep up your antics, minx.”

Josie gulped, flashing hot, then cold, then hot again. Her body did not know what to make of his threat. She was both aroused and fearful… Surely, he would not… but given everything she had seen at the Society, such a punishment would hardly be exceptional if he were to do it there.

A shiver went down her spine, and her buttocks clenched together.

Atail?

Her eyes drifted back up to the young woman who was now tucked under the Tramp’s arm as he leaned his head down to whisper something in her ear.

“This way,” Mitchell said loudly, dragging Josie’s attention back to the matter at hand. She shook her head. The Tramp and his lady were nothing but a distraction, albeit an extremely interesting one, and she needed to focus. “I secured us a private room. He is waiting there.”

Excitement slid through her, of an entirely different quality than the kind Elijah had stirred within her.

Elijah

Though he wished he could stash Josie in a private room for safekeeping and meet the Frenchman elsewhere, Elijah appreciated Mitchell’s forethought and followed him into the room. A man was lounging in one of the chairs arranged around a small gaming table. The room was used for private games of cards, often with higher stakes and no audience. It was more richly furnished than the main room and only available upon request. The man looked up when Mitchell came in, appearing bored, and when he spoke, it was with a distinct French accent. He was no lord. The cut of his clothing spoke of a well-to-do middle-class gentleman, possibly someone who might be invited to a ton event if he was prosperous and well-connected.

“Took you long enough.” He blew a puff of smoke from the cigarette between his fingers and eyed Elijah as he stepped around Mitchell. “This is the gentleman you wanted me to speak to?”

“I am the Earl of Durham,” Elijah said coldly before Mitchell could respond. Surprise flashed across the man’s face, which was interesting. Apparently, Mitchell had not revealed his identity, and the man had not known it. Elijah did not think even the best actor could pull off such disbelief at the moment. “And you are?”

“You may call me Jacques. And who is this?” the Frenchman asked, transferring his gaze to Josie, his brow furrowing. Thankfully, Josie kept quiet, as Elijah had told her to.

“None of your concern,” Elijah said smoothly, letting go of her arm since she seemed willing to behave. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small purse and tossed it onto the table in front of the Frenchman. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

The man eyed the pouch and waved his hand.

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