Page 10 of The Gilded Heiress

Leo

I followed Josie to the door. Martha waited patiently for us, her demeanor polite yet welcoming. I owed her big for this favor.

I stood between the two women. “Miss Josie Smith, I’d like to present Mrs. Stockwell. Martha, this is Josie.”

Martha held out her hand toward my singer. “How do you do, Miss Smith?”

Josie grabbed the other woman’s hand and pumped twice. “Nice to meet you. Call me Josie.”

I could see Martha struggling not to wince under Josie’s firm grip. I took Josie’s elbow and began leading her into the vestibule.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?”

Josie edged away from me as soon as we were in the entry. “What a place.” Whistling, she took in the chandelier overhead,

the fine paintings on the walls. “It’s like a palace in here.”

Martha looked at me quizzically. I put my hands up, trying to reassure her that letting us in wasn’t a mistake. With a genial

smile, my friend swept her arm out toward the parlor. “Shall we sit? I’ll ring for tea.”

Josie nodded. “And food, please. Leo promised.”

“Ringing for tea is a polite way of saying she’ll provide refreshments,” I told Josie quietly.

“Oh, right. I knew that,” she said, though it was clear she hadn’t.

I followed Josie to the sofa and we both sat, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

After asking a footman for tea, Martha settled in an armchair.

“I understand from Leo that you will soon be traveling to New York,” Martha said.

“He asked if I could show you a few tips on how to interact in polite society.”

Josie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t see why I need to know about things like tea and polite society. I want to work in theater.”

Martha handled this easily. “The world revolves around social customs, my dear. To succeed, we must adapt and conform. You

may break the rules, of course, but you must first learn them.”

“And,” I put in, “there may be times when you’re required to interact with members of high society.” Like Mrs. Pendelton.

“I suppose.” Josie didn’t appear convinced.

One of Martha’s girls came in and crossed the floor. Bending, she whispered in Martha’s ear. Martha’s face paled. “Goodness,

I’d best come straightaway. Leo, Miss Smith. If you’ll excuse me a moment.”

The two women left and I relaxed into the plush sofa. I’d spent a fair amount of time here over the last two years. Martha

and I went way back.

“Was that her daughter?”

I looked over at Josie. “Daughter? Oh, no.” I chuckled. “That was one of the women who works for Martha. This is a high-end

bordello.”

“Bordello?” A grin split Josie’s face, like this was the most exciting thing she’d ever heard. “You brought me to a bordello

to learn polish.”

I felt the need to defend my choice. “For your information, this is one of the best bordellos in the city. It caters to the

posh Beacon Hill crowd. Second, I’ve known Martha forever.” As someone else who’d adapted and transformed herself into someone

new, Martha and I understood each other.

“Do you have intimate relations with her?”

The question surprised me. I hadn’t expected it, though I truly should have with Josie. Anything could come out of this woman’s

mouth. “Occasionally, yes.”

“And the other girls here?”

“If the mood strikes, yes.”

Josie’s head swiveled as she looked around. “I’m friends with some of the working girls in my neighborhood. Never been in

a place as nice as this, though. How do you afford it?”

I shifted on the sofa, uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “I manage.”

“Really? I know what some of my friends earn and it’s a pretty penny. These girls must be expensive. Except you said you weren’t

rich.”

“I’m not.”

“Then how often are you here? Weekly? Monthly?”

I couldn’t believe this. Frustration caused me to snap, “Do you wish to hear about the frequency of my climaxes? My preferred

positions? Jesus, Josie.”

I expected shock or outrage, but Josie merely shrugged. “Sure, if you’re willing to discuss it.”

Thankfully, Martha returned before I could say anything else. A footman trailed behind her, a tea tray in his hands. “I apologize.

There was a matter upstairs that required my attention.”

The footman placed the tray on a table, but Martha made no effort to begin serving. Instead, she addressed Josie. “Miss Smith,

tell me what you know of preparing tea for guests.”

“Not a thing,” Josie answered unapologetically. “Pippa and I don’t have guests all that regular. And we don’t serve tea when

we do.”

Was she referring to men? I nearly slapped my forehead. Damn, I was an idiot. The prospect of a man in her life hadn’t occurred

to me. But of course a beautiful woman like Josie, so brash and outspoken, would attract men wherever she went. Why hadn’t

I asked?

The uncomfortable feeling skittered down to my stomach. I didn’t like it. A man could intervene in what I was trying to do,

prevent Josie from following my lead. Sow seeds of mistrust and whatnot.

Josie and Martha stared at the tea set, with Martha explaining the various pieces and their purpose. “Is there a man in your life?” I blurted, not even caring if I seemed half cracked.

Josie’s mouth flattened. “How’s that any of your concern?”

“As your manager, I need to know if some boy will insert himself into your career.”

“Now he’s a boy?” She straightened to glower at me. “What is wrong with you?”

I didn’t back down. This was too important. “Just answer the question.”

“I’ll answer your question when you answer mine from earlier.”

About how I afforded to patronize a place like this.

Christ, this woman. I pressed my lips together, and the two of us engaged in a staredown, each waiting for the other to break

first. Did she think I was so easy? I’d faced down street toughs and coppers. Gangsters. Never had I willingly revealed more

about myself than necessary.

A good con man had to remain a mystery—especially to his mark.

Except Josie’s green eyes gave no hint that she would bend anytime soon. She stared at me, truly stared , and it was as if she saw every part of me, even the parts I kept hidden just for myself. I didn’t care for the sensation.

It felt like layers of tender skin were being slowly stripped away to expose everything underneath. I shifted in my seat.

When another half minute went by I couldn’t take her stare a second more. “Fine,” I growled from behind clenched teeth. “When

necessary, I provide entertainment during parties for house credit.”

“Entertainment?”

The one word conveyed her disbelief and suspicion, as if the entertainment I provided was salacious in nature. I saw no reason

to correct her assumption, even though I’d meant sleight of hand card tricks. “Yes.”

Josie lowered her gaze. “I see. No, there isn’t a beau in my life.”

A shockingly strong wave of relief went through me at this news. “Carry on,” I snapped at Martha, annoyed at myself and everyone

else.

I would need to be more careful with Josie. She had a strange power to make me confess things, apparently.

“Please excuse him,” Josie said in a terrible stage whisper. “Leo’s been in a rotten mood ever since we left the theater.”

Martha’s brow lifted as she turned in my direction. “Is that so?”

I didn’t like how either of them was looking at me. “Are we done here?”

“We’ve barely begun,” Martha said, then she added, “We need to let Josie practice her serving skills on you.”

Perhaps it was our location, but the words conjured up an image in my head that had nothing to do with tea—Josie on her knees,

serving me, attending to my cock. Plump lips taking me deep while those green eyes stared up at me...

A wave of unexpected heat curled through my groin, the second one today. Shit.

Horrified, I attempted to collect myself as Martha droned on about proper tea service. The way to serve, how to hold the saucer

and not the cup. Adding the milk first to preserve the porcelain. Lips moving ever so slightly as Martha spoke, Josie was

clearly repeating the instructions to memorize them. Indeed, what a fascinating talent.

When we first met, I assumed her to be a rube, a simple orphan who wouldn’t give me any trouble. I could take her to New York

under false pretenses, parade her in front of Mrs. Pendelton, collect my reward money, and come back to Boston a wealthy man.

But Josie was no rube. She was smart, and had a quick mind. Intelligence like mine, not learned from books but rather the

streets.

This could pose a problem if I didn’t remain sharp.

“Leo? Are you listening?”

I lifted my head. “Yes, of course.”

“How do you take your tea, sir?” Josie asked in an exaggerated British voice.

“With bourbon.”

“Plain it is,” Josie said and handed me the saucer and cup.

Soon the three of us were sipping bland tea, my leg bouncing in irritation. I wanted to leave, go somewhere to collect my

thoughts. First the carriage ride, now this conversation at Martha’s. Josie was like a sliver under my skin, and this cordial

scene was more than I could handle at the moment. I’d much rather yell at her instead.

What was happening to me?

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my flask.

“Leo,” Martha admonished as I unscrewed the cap. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Sorry, Martha.” I topped my tea off with a healthy dash of Kentucky’s finest. “Can’t be helped.” I put my flask away and

took a drink of my bourbon-laced tea. The burn went all the way to my stomach. Much fucking better.

“How did you learn all this?” Josie asked Martha. “The tea and how to be a lady.”

“My mother. She used to work as a maid in one of the Brahmin households.”

I hadn’t known this, but it made sense. The Boston Brahmins were a very exclusive social set, like the Knickerbockers of New

York City. That influence explained why Martha’s bordello was so genteel and why she dressed like a society lady.

When Josie excused herself for the facilities, Martha frowned at me. “What on earth has gotten into you today?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. What are you doing with this girl?”