Elegant Sins (Dark Secret Society 1)

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded.

Instead of leading me up the half a dozen stairs to the grand columned porch, however, Jeeves suddenly detoured to the left. I tottered along unevenly after him, unaccustomed to the three-and-a-half inch heels that had also come in the box. Several times, Jeeves had to reach out a hand to steady me. He was gracious enough not to comment about it.

He guided me around a cobblestone pathway that led past the east wing of the house, right up to a small white door that had a little placard over top that read: Servant’s Entrance.

Were you even allowed to still have signs like that up these days? It was so not politically correct to call someone a servant.

But when Jeeves knocked once, the door was immediately opened by a plump white woman in her 50s, her graying red hair pulled back in a severe bun. She was wearing a starched gray dress with a white collar and a white apron, and she didn’t look happy to see me. In fact, she outright glared as she eyed me up and down.

“As soon as you step over this threshold,” she finally spoke, her words as severe as her hairstyle, “every moment will be a test. Just like you were tested from the moment you received the invitation.”

Her words took me aback and I looked to Jeeves, but his face was impassive, giving me no information one way or the other.

“The invitation told you to prepare yourself appropriately.” She gave me another long once over. “An instruction you failed.” She glared down at the tiny watch on her wrist. “There will barely be time to fix it in addition to the interview and the inspection.”

She glared over my shoulder at Jeeves. “You could have at least driven faster once you saw this disaster.” She gestured up and down at me.

“Hey,” I said, stepping up in Jeeves’ defense. “It wasn’t his fault. And I”—I cringed a little thinking of my raccoon eyes—“maybe if you could just help me take off some of the eye makeup?”

“You”—Mrs. Hawthorne’s eyes snapped back my direction—“silence from now on.” Her thick Irish accent made her statement come across even more authoritative.

I looked to Jeeves. He’d been my guide through everything so far. But he was checking his phone, obviously done with me now that he’d delivered me, and his responsibility was through. He’d told me himself, hadn’t he? He’d worked here eleven years. How many women had he seen come and go?

“W-What’s my safeword?”

One of Mrs. Hawthorne’s thin eyebrows went up. “That will be up to you and the gentleman, obviously. My job is to prepare you, to make sure you are clean and safe.”

Okay my makeup might be a little bad, but did she think I didn’t shower? What the hell? I was poor but I was still clean.

“This way.” Mrs. Hawthorne tugged me forward by my wrist and closed the door in Jeeves’ face.

I only got a glimpse of the kitchen and a bunch of staff inside all bustling around, dressed in crisp kitchen whites.

Meanwhile, I was hustled up a steep, narrow staircase that had to have been for servants and earlier, for slaves.

Nor did I get to see much of the second floor before I was hustled into a small room. Immediately, Mrs. Hawthorne flipped me so that I was facing the door she’d just shut behind us, her hands at the zipper of my elegant gown. I tried to look over my shoulder. There was a narrow bed but not much else in the room.

“What’s going on?”

“I already explained myself and I don’t waste my breath saying things twice,” Mrs. Hawthorne snapped.

She pulled the dress down my shoulders until it billowed at my waist. “Step out.” She held out a sturdy arm to steady me. I used the wall instead.

She swept the ball gown away the moment I was free of it and hung it on a hanger in the room’s tiny closet.

“Knickers off,” she commanded, never once looking my way, not since we’d left downstairs.

“Um… what?”

Finally, she looked at me, and it was a look of exasperation. “Don’t tell me you’re modest. Not if you’re going to be one of the Order’s girls.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Every few seasons we get one of you.”

She propped her hands on her waist and stared me down. “You are here for sex. The boys will be undergoing the most important trials of their lives and you will not”—she took a step forward, one menacing finger pointed in my face—“I repeat, you will not screw up that opportunity for them. You will do as you’re told. You will suck cocks, you will be fucked more times than you can count, and you will do it all with a smile on your face.”