His Valet (Victorian Decadence Book 2) by S.M. LaViolette

Author:S.M. LaViolette [LaViolette, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Sixpence Press
Published: 2020-05-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Stephen spun around so quickly at the knock that he sent amber liquid sloshing over the lip of his glass.

Not until he was facing the door did he recall that Josephine didn’t knock, she just entered.

“Come,” he said, throwing back the contents of his glass.

It was Julian.

“What do you want?” Stephen snapped, setting his empty glass down with a thump.

“I’ve got a message for you, sir.” He stood hesitantly in the threshold.

“What are you waiting for—bring it here.” Stephen was already moving toward him, his hand out.

It was just a plain white envelope with Frau Meisen’s name and address on the front. The handwriting was not one he recognized.

“When did this come?”

“Just a few moments ago, sir.”

“Did you see who delivered it?”

“A cab driver.”

“Is he waiting for an answer?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

Stephen recognized the avid glint in the other man’s eyes: he thought he was going to earn some money tonight.

“You may go.”

Julian’s face fell. “Yes, of course, sir. Please ring if you have need of . . . anything.”

Stephen turned his back and slid his thumb beneath the flap of the envelope.

He sat down before unfolding the single sheet.

Dear Stephen,

By now you will know I’m not coming tonight.

“Goddammit,” he hissed under his breath. He had known it, but he’d not wanted to believe it.

I regret that I’m unable to be with you on our last night, but I’m afraid something came up I could not ignore. Never fear, I’m not injured, I’m just not my own mistress tonight.

I want you to know that the past four days—or nights, rather—have been the best in my life. Some might see that admission as a sad commentary on my life! Not only was I able to experience many of the things I’ve only ever fantasized about, but I was able to experience them with you. I will think of you often in the years to come.

I wish you the best in your life.

Yours,

Josephine

Stephen turned the page over, as if there might be more. There wasn’t.

He gave a bitter laugh and crumpled up the page. That was it, was it? He flung the letter to the floor and stood, refilling his glass yet again. When he lifted the glass to his mouth he realized he’d lost track of how many he’d had. Two at dinner, two here, this would make five.

He ground his teeth. “Dammit.”

Stephen thumped the glass down without even taking a sip. She’d turned him into a foolish wreck, he would not allow her to make him into a drunk.

Instead of drinking, he paced. It occurred to him he could simply leave—go back to the hotel. After all, there was nothing here for him, was there?

He could go find Leather and see to the telegrams, which were really his affair, not his valet’s.

Stephen knew it wasn’t true that she’d made a fool of him; he’d made a fool of himself—he’d been the one foolishly thinking of marriage, not her.

All week long he’d felt it, that lurching sensation in his stomach—the

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