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  Released

  Lord Dixon’s Shadows book 1

  By Adella J. Harris

  --*--

  Sir Lionel Westin is returning to his estate after learning his father left the entire family business to his brother. At least he gets to share the mail coach with the intriguing Mr. Smith. Former prostitute Jim has finally left that life behind and is moving to the country when he meets Lionel on the mail coach. He’d like nothing better to than to accept Lionel’s invitation to stay as a guest, but Jim knows Lionel deserves better than him, and when his former employer, the notorious Lord Dixon, moves into the area, Jim knows the best thing for Lionel is for him to leave.

  --*--

  copyright (c) 2017 Adella J. Harrison

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  ***

  LIONEL WESTIN GAVE THE PAPERS ON HIS DESK one final read. He’d come up with every possibility, every eventuality. There was nothing else he could do to make the report clearer. Father was involved in several business ventures, but he’d always considered the tea company to be nothing more than a bit of filler, something to make the total number of companies sound more impressive. But Lionel had a feeling there was real potential there, and if he could make the company profitable, then surely Father would see both their worth. He tapped the papers into a neat stack and placed them in a new folder to protect them then went to the mirror to check his cravat. He hated that his father would judge everything by appearances, but perhaps he could make it work to his advantage this time. It worked for his brother, Randall, who was considered competent only because his valet could tie a proper mathematical every morning. Lionel took off the cravat he had worn to the office and took a freshly starched one from the drawer where he’d put it when he arrived. His valet had gone out to pick up a new coat, and Lionel didn’t want to ask his butler to act as one, so he settled for a carefully tied mail coach knot, with the tiepin that had belonged to his grandfather. Hopefully, it would bring him luck.

  His butler hurried to get his coat as Lionel left the office. “Going to the gallows?”

  “Almost. Going to see my father.”

  “Ah. Good luck with that, sir.”

  Lionel wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he smiled and hoped that would give the right impression then went out to find a hack to bring him to Father’s office.

  {[,--*--

  Jim flopped down on his bed and immediately regretted it. The mattress was barely enough to be granted that name, and the wood underneath had poked him sharply in the back. He was tired of this. Tired of this life. At least Madame Rosamond let him keep a small garden in the back, although the food it produced mostly went to feed the clients.

  There was a knock, and Fleur, one of the maids, although her real name was Fanny, opened the door without waiting for a reply. “Can you take one in the green suite?”

  “Yes, give me a minute to clean up.” He knew better than to refuse over something as minor as a bad mood. It was money, at least. If he could get enough, maybe he could get away. If he could grow things in the back garden of a London brothel, surely he could do the same in the country, and with better results. He’d learned being a farm laborer wasn’t an option; no one wanted to hire a scrawny little thing like him as one. If he could just save enough to buy himself a cottage or even a life interest in a little place. That would be ideal.

  “Hurry up,” Fleur hissed. “He was going up when I came for you.”

  Jim went to the washbasin and ran a cold cloth over himself. “That do?”

  Fleur looked him over. “Well enough.”

  He threw on some clothes and followed her into the hallway. “So how does a man like me make a decent amount of money?”

  “Inherit it,” she answered promptly.

  “I was serious.”

  “So was I. Gentlemen don’t put other gentlemen up the way they do with ladies, at least not that I know of. Except Lord Dixon, but who would do that?”

  Lord Dixon. That was a possibility, if he were really desperate. The man owned three brothels in town catering to the most exotic and extreme pleasures, but he liked to keep one prostitute he called his concubine, always a man, at his country home at his beck and call. There were rumors about it, of course, each more humiliating than the last, although considering what went on in his brothels... All that was known for certain was that he paid well, but he expected complete obedience for that year. “Has anyone here ever done that?”

  “Been his concubine out at the house? No. Well, there was one, John, although he had us say Jean like the French do. Madame Rosamond didn’t take him back afterwards. She said if he was willing to degrade himself as far as he’d had to there, he could find perfectly good work under the docks.”

  If Madame Rosamond had thrown someone out to work at the docks, that seemed to confirm the worst of the rumors then. And judging by what he knew of the brothels Lord Dixon owned, the stories floating around below stairs here were likely not scandalous enough. He was going to ask for more details, but they’d reached the door to the green suite. He adjusted his shirt so it would come off quickly and went in to meet his client.

  Jim glanced through the gap in the seconds before the door opened. Brisban. Great. The man was at least ten stone overweight, smelled like he bathed in brandy, and always hid the fact that he wanted men by saying he wanted something adventurous. Jim plastered his best smile on his face and went in. “Good evening, my lord.”

  “What? Hello, yes. Good evening. Thought I’d try something a little daring for a change.”

  Jim tried to ignore the fact that the man was spilling brandy down his front as he waffled. He loosened the buttons on his trousers as he slunk across the room, hoping to distract Brisban from his drink. “I like a man who’s adventurous. What were you in the mood for tonight?”

  --*--

  After Lionel had been waiting for almost an hour, Father came out of his office with Randall. “Going to White’s, Sanders. See you in the morning.”

  Lionel got to his feet quickly. “If you have a minute first, Father, I brought the proposal I told you about.”

  “Leave it with Sanders. We’re late meeting Greensleigh as it is, Lionel.”

  “But Greensleigh would be someone you could...”

  “Lionel, I said leave it with Sanders. Come along, Randall. If we hurry, we can have dinner there first.”

  Lionel watched his father and brother leave without extending him an invitation to join them. Not that he would have, but it would have been a nice gesture. He waited until they were gone, in case Father came back out of curiosity, although he knew that wouldn’t happen. When he heard the street door close, he brought the carefully organized folder to Sanders.

  “I’ll see that he gets this in the morning.” Sanders took it from him and opened the cover. “You know he’s selling the tea business, right?”

  Lionel stared at the secretary in disbelief. “He never said anything to me.”

  Sanders held out the folder. “I don’t think it will be a popular offering. It’s what they’re going to talk to Greensleigh about, looking for someone interested in buying.”

  And if he could buy it, and turn it around, Father would be forced to see he deserved more to
do in the firm. He took the folder. “If he asks you for this, tell him I was going to give it to him at dinner.” There was no way Father would be home in time for dinner if he and Randall were going to White’s, and a decent chance they wouldn’t make it home for dinner the next night either.

  “Very good, sir. If you will be looking to hire a secretary, I know of someone considering leaving their current position.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  As he walked home, Lionel ran through the possibilities. He had a small inheritance from his mother’s marriage portion. If the tea business was in as bad a shape as he thought, it might be enough to buy it. He’d need to find a solicitor to handle the transaction for him. Someone outside of Father’s firm so no one would know what he was doing. Sir Robert Farnsdale would know someone. Maybe he could use the same man he did. That would be easy enough. Lionel turned his steps from home and started for his club. Robert might be there, and they could share a drink and discuss the matter.

  When Jim woke up, he was decided. Lord Dixon might be worse than working at Madame Rosamond’s, but it was only one year. One year of doing what he’d been doing for the past eight years, just more intensely, and then he would have money. Lots of it. Enough to get out of the profession entirely. And there was a real chance he could do that. Jim had seen the sort hired at Dixon’s brothels, knew he was the sort Dixon liked, young and slim but strong. He’d done farm work when he could before he had gone to London, and when he could find a job had worked longer and harder than the bigger men. If he could convince Dixon he was exactly what he was looking for, maybe he could negotiate a little, get something better than what some of the other concubines had managed. He suspected most of them hadn’t been able to make it in the brothels in town—otherwise, why would they have gone to Dixon at all? And that meant they probably didn’t know how to negotiate with him.

  With that in mind, Jim got out of bed and dressed, choosing clothes that emphasized his body, making him look slim and desirable, with a thin shirt that would show off his chest if he sweated at all, under a tight coat, and tight breeches that displayed the bulge between his legs in such a way that it was clear he wasn’t padding it, with no drawers between his skin and the tight fabric. He threw an overcoat over the whole ensemble so he wouldn’t be stopped in the street and left by the back door. He wouldn’t tell anyone where he was going. If he got what he wanted from Lord Dixon, he would quietly resign his place at Madame Rosamond’s. If not, then he would still have a place to go.

  Jim walked briskly to Lord Dixon’s so that when he arrived, he was sweating slightly, which made his shirt cling nicely. When he left his coat at the door, Jim wondered what to say to the butler, but the man took one look at the way he was dressed and grinned in a way that told Jim exactly what he would be doing with this man if he were hired. Jim was taken to the study and told to wait.

  It wasn’t more than a few minutes before he heard the door open. He turned at once, keeping his gaze lowered. Lord Dixon was a tall man, fit, with broad shoulders and strong hands, not handsome, not even what one would call interesting. Powerful was the word that came to mind. “I’m told you want to be my new concubine.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Jim bowed his head. Best let the man know he’d follow orders.

  “Let’s see what I’d be getting. Strip.”

  Jim quickly pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the chair, followed by his shirt. He toed off his shoes, and then his breeches followed.

  “You seem used to that.”

  “I’ve been in the profession.”

  “Hands behind your head, I want a good look.”

  Jim folded his hands behind his head and stood still while Dixon walked slowly around him, examining every inch. On the second turn, he reached out to fondle and squeeze. Jim stayed still, letting him do as he pleased.

  When he’d finished his examination, Dixon returned to the desk. “What is it you want?”

  “Four thousand pounds.”

  “That is an impressive amount.”

  It was a small fortune, really. “I’m an impressive investment.”

  “It would take two years of full service to me to earn that kind of money.”

  Jim swallowed. One year had seemed long enough, but two. Still, it would get him his freedom. And if he turned it down now, he wouldn’t get a second chance, so he said, “That is acceptable.”

  “Then dress, and I’ll have the contract written up. You can come sign it on Friday. And you will report to my townhouse on the first of the month to begin your two years of service.” He ran his hand down Jim’s chest, pinching his nipples, then gave him two hard slaps on his arse. Jim knew the correct responses and yelped while pressing his arse back into Dixon’s hand. “You will be fun to play with. I’ll push you until you drop that act and writhe in earnest. I look forward to it.”

  Jim bowed his head in acknowledgment. Dixon had seen through the act that worked at the brothel, although Jim should have known he would. He knew Dixon wouldn’t believe he was looking forward to it, and wouldn’t want him to. Reluctant agreement was more what he wanted anyway, and that was easy for Jim to give. He considered asking for his other conditions, but they were all minor, and he could sense that Lord Dixon liked his deference. He’d wait until Friday and discuss them then, when he had the document in front of him.

  Mr. Pennington looked over the letter of introduction Lionel had obtained from Robert Farnsdale. “I’d be pleased to take you on as a client. I take it you don’t wish your father to know you are the purchaser. May I ask why?”

  If Mr. Pennington was going to act as his solicitor, Lionel thought he should be able to trust him with the truth. “I’ve asked him to let me manage one of the companies for many years. He hasn’t seen fit to allow me to.”

  “And so you are taking matters into your own hands. I quite understand. Here is a listing of my rates. If you wish to study them in private, I will not be offended.”

  Lionel scanned the list the solicitor passed across the table. The rates were in keeping with what Robert had said he was charged, and seemed reasonable compared to what he’d seen Mr. Jacobs charged Father. “This is acceptable.”

  “Wonderful. Then let’s begin discussing what you’re willing to spend. When Sir Robert informed me of your interest last night, I took the liberty of reading up on your father’s tea company. He’s asking far too much for it now, and from Greensleigh. I happen to know Greensleigh is selling off parts of his company, not buying new ones. It almost looks as if there are gambling debts to be paid, although I’ve heard everything from blackmail to a foiled smuggling scheme. In any case, I think if we give your father a chance to get desperate, he’d give you a very good price. Naturally, I won’t tell him the name of the gentleman I’m working for.”

  Lionel nodded. “I thought you could put in a proposal now, then when he sees there won’t be a better offer coming, he might consider taking it.”

  “Yes, let him see there is an option so he doesn’t decide not to sell when he sees how little interest there is. I think that would be a sensible approach. I have some figures here for you.”

  Lionel leaned in and began reading the page in front of him, enjoying the novelty of having his opinions listened to even if he was paying the man to do the listening.

  Jim reported to Lord Dixon’s townhouse early on Friday morning. He was met by the same butler, who showed him into the same study again. This time it was a skinny man with hard features and a neat suit seated behind the desk. “You’re Jim?”

  Jim suspected this would be another of his masters even though he was clearly a servant, so he kept his tone deferential. “Yes, sir.”

  “Very good. I am Mr. Murdoc, Lord Dixon’s butler in the country, and in charge of his concubines when he is not around. You are here to sign the agreement?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jim couldn’t think of another response.

  Mr. Murdoc held the contract out to Jim. “Can you read?”

>   “Yes.” He was very glad to be able to say that. Lord Dixon had a reputation for honoring his word, but not deviating from it. Jim was very glad he could see for himself what the agreement was.

  As he’d expected, two years, he agreed to anything Lord Dixon required of his body, including sexual favors, the right to choose his clothing or lack thereof, his food, his grooming. He would be given no time off. Two years as a prostitute for one of the most depraved men in England, and at the end, enough money to buy the modest place in the country he wanted. Jim had worked in the stews and then the higher-class brothels for years. He knew what he was being asked to do. And he knew how long he’d be working on his back to get the kind of money he was being offered now. He eyed the pen but hesitated. He’d have to ask at some point, if he wanted to be sure he could get back to London when this was over. “There are a few small matters I’d like to add.”

  “And what makes you think you can?”

  “He wants me. I’m exactly the type he likes, and I’m strong enough to put up with whatever he wants. You won’t have to train me up. I know what to expect. If he wants me naked, flogged, and taken by every man in the house on the first day, I’m ready.” He hesitated then added, “So he can push me to further depths than any of the fellows he’s had before.”

  The last bit worked. “Let’s hear your demands. We can always say no.”

  “It’s nothing outrageous now that the money’s settled. When my time is up, I want a set of respectable clothes, a bath ready for me, and transportation to London.”

  Murdoc considered the matter. Jim knew that he would probably have been given at least part of that no matter what, but he wanted it all in writing. Eventually, the butler nodded. “I think that can be arranged, but you agree that there will be no reprieve during your two years. No two days off to run to London.”

  Jim shrugged. “I’ve nothing here now.”