The Paid Companion

by Amanda Quick

  He slanted her an enigmatic sidelong glance. “Is that a fact?”

  “It is,” she assured him.

  “He was a fortune hunter, you say?”

  “Oh, yes. Not that I had a great fortune to be hunted compared to yours, my lord.” She could not repress a little wistful sigh. “Still, it was a rather nice house and some excellent land that, when properly managed, produced a tidy profit.”

  “Who managed it? Your father?”

  “No. My father died when I was an infant. I never knew him. My mother and my grandmother managed the land and the household. I learned the skills from them. The property was to be my inheritance. My mother eventually remarried, but my stepfather was only interested in the income that came from the farm.”

  “What did he do with the money?”

  “He fancied himself a skilled investor. But he generally lost more than he made. His last financial venture involved a certain mine in Yorkshire.”

  Arthur’s jaw tightened. “I recall that project. If it is the one I am thinking of, it was a swindle from the outset.”

  “Yes. Well, unfortunately, my stepfather lost everything in it and the shock brought on a fatal fit of apoplexy. I was left to deal with his creditors. They took everything.” She paused. “Or, almost everything.”

  He made a minute adjustment to the reins. “And your fortune hunter? What became of him? Did he simply disappear?”

  “Oh, no. He showed up almost immediately, having received word that I was no longer due to inherit. He promptly ended our engagement. Two months later I learned that he had run off with a young lady from Bath whose father had settled a great deal of money and some very nice jewels on her.”

  “I see.”

  There was a short silence during which she became acutely aware of the muffled thud of the horses’ hooves, the clatter of carriage wheels and the sounds of voices drifting across the park.

  She suddenly realized that she had said far more than she had intended about her personal affairs. They had started out discussing a murder. What in heaven’s name had led her to this subject?

  “My apologies, sir,” she muttered. “I certainly did not mean to bore you with my personal history. It is an exceedingly dreary topic.”

  “You said that your stepfather’s creditors got almost everything?” Arthur asked, sounding curious.

  “On the day I was confronted with the creditors, things were a bit hectic, as you can imagine. I was obliged to pack my personal things under the eye of the Runner who had been brought along to oversee the eviction. I used my grandmother’s trunk, the one she had acquired in her acting days. It had a false bottom.”

  “Ah.” A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “I begin to see where this is going. What did you manage to smuggle out of the house, Miss Lodge?”

  “Just the items that I had hidden in the trunk: my grandmother’s gold and pearl brooch, a pair of earrings and twenty pounds.”

  “Very clever of you.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not nearly as clever as I had hoped to be. Do you have any idea how little the pawn dealers will give one for a perfectly lovely brooch and a pair of earrings? Only a few pounds. I managed to get myself to London and find a post through Goodhew and Willis, but I assure you, there was very little left over.”

  “I understand.”

  She squared her shoulders and adjusted the parasol again. “Enough of that depressing topic. Let us return to the matter of your investigation. How do you intend to proceed?”

  He did not respond immediately. She got the impression that he wanted to continue discussing her deplorable financial situation.

  But he flexed his gloved hands on the reins, sending a subtle signal to the grays, and returned to the subject of his great-uncle’s murder.

  “I’ve been thinking about that problem,” he said. “I believe my next step will be to try to locate the third member of the Society of the Stones, the one who called himself Saturn. In addition, I think it might be a good idea to keep a close watch on Ibbitts.”

  “Ibbitts?” She was startled. “Why is that? You assured me that he could do us no harm.”

  “I am not concerned with any gossip about your position that he might attempt to spread,” Arthur explained. “But I would be very interested to know if anyone attempts to contact him now that he is no longer employed in my household.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  Arthur looked at her. “If I were a killer who was trying to remain hidden, I would be extremely curious to know if someone from my victim’s family was making inquiries and, if so, whether or not I was a suspect. Who better to interview than a disgruntled servant?”

  She was impressed. “That is a brilliant notion, my lord.”

  He grimaced. “I’m not sure that it qualifies as brilliant, but I do feel that it should be considered. It is possible that Ibbitts overheard more than a conversation concerning your status as a paid employee.”

  She suddenly understood. “We talked about John Watt and your investigation last night in the library. Yes, of course. Ibbitts may well know that you are hunting a killer.”

  He nodded. “If someone were to contact Ibbitts, I could assume that he is the murderer and that he may be anxious or curious to know what is happening in Rain Street.”

  “Presumably no one else would bother to talk to a dismissed butler,” she agreed. “But how will you arrange for Ibbitts to be watched night and day?”

  “I have been considering that question. I could use street lads, although they are not always dependable. The alternative is a Runner. But many of them are no more reliable than the street boys. In addition, it is common knowledge that they can be easily bribed.”

  She hesitated, recalling her one and only experience with a Runner. “If you elect to go to Bow Street, there is one man there you might find trustworthy. His name is Hitchins.”

  Before Arthur could question her about Hitchins, a man mounted on a handsome, prancing bay came alongside the carriage. Elenora glanced at him, absently noting the excellence of the horse and the polish on the rider’s gleaming boots.

  She started to look away, and then the shock of recognition slammed through her.

  Impossible, she thought. It couldn’t be him. With a gathering sense of dread, she raised her gaze to the gentleman’s handsome features.

  She found him staring at her, equally stunned.

  “Elenora,” Jeremy Clyde said. His eyes lit up with the smoldering warmth that had once made her pulse race. “It is you. I thought I must have been mistaken when I noticed a familiar-looking lady in this carriage. What a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

  “Good day, Mr. Clyde. I understand that you were wed several months ago.” She gave her most wintry smile. “Please accept my congratulations. Is your wife here in town with you?”

  Jeremy seemed slightly disconcerted by the direction of her conversation. She got the impression that he had forgotten that he had a wife. She thanked the fates that she had not married this man. If she had, she would no doubt have found herself in the position of being the inconvenient spouse whom Jeremy had trouble recalling to mind.

  “Yes, of course, she is here,” Jeremy said, evidently recovering his memory. “We have taken a house for the Season. Elenora, I had no notion that you were in town. How long will you be staying?”

  Arthur glanced briefly at him and then looked at Elenora. “An acquaintance of yours, my dear?”

  “I beg your pardon.” Flustered at having forgotten her manners, she pulled herself together and quickly made the introductions.

  Jeremy inclined his head politely in acknowledgment, but Elenora noticed the flash of astonishment in his eyes when he realized whom he was meeting. He had not recognized Arthur by sight, which was hardly surprising, Elenora thought, since the two men had never moved in the same circles. But Jeremy certainly recognized the name and the title.

  Amusement bubbled through her, suppressing her initial dism
ay. The sight of his discarded fiancée sitting intimately close to one of the most mysterious and most powerful men of the ton had clearly flummoxed Jeremy.

  But even as she watched his face, she could see his confusion and surprise transforming into cunning speculation. Jeremy was already trying to think of a way in which he could turn her connection to Arthur to some advantage.

  Why had she not noticed this side of him while he had been wooing her? Now that the scales had fallen from her eyes, she could only wonder what it was that had once attracted her to him.

  “How do you come to be acquainted with my fiancée, Clyde?” Arthur asked in the dangerously casual manner that Elenora was learning to recognize.

  Jeremy’s face went as blank as a sheet of foolscap.

  “Fiancée?” he repeated. He sounded as though the word had caused him to choke. “You are engaged to Elenora, sir? But that’s impossible. I don’t understand. It cannot be—”

  “You did not answer my question,” Arthur cut in, wheeling the grays around another vehicle. “How do you come to be acquainted with my fiancée?”

  “We are, uh, old friends.” Jeremy was obliged to urge his mount to a swifter pace in order to keep up with the carriage.

  “I see.” Arthur nodded, as if that explained everything. “You must be the fortune hunter, the one who ended his engagement to Elenora when he discovered that she had lost her inheritance. Ran off with a young heiress instead, I understand. Now that was a piece of very shrewd business on your part.”

  Jeremy stiffened. His anger must have transmitted itself directly through the reins, because his high-strung mount reacted with a nervous toss of the head and began to dance anxiously about on the path.

  “Obviously Elenora has given you a very distorted version of events,” Jeremy said, yanking fiercely on the reins. “I assure you our relationship did not end because of the disastrous state of her finances.” He paused meaningfully. “Unfortunately, there were other reasons involving Miss Lodge’s private affairs that obliged me to end our connection.”

  The dark hints that she had compromised herself with another man left Elenora so furious she could hardly breathe.

  “What other reasons?” Arthur asked, for all the world as though he had entirely missed the subtle implications of Jeremy’s words.

  “I suggest you ask Miss Lodge.” Jeremy struggled with the reins of his sidestepping, head-tossing mount. “After all, a gentleman does not discuss a lady’s intimate affairs, does he?”

  “Not if he wishes to avoid a dawn appointment,” Arthur agreed.

  At the sound of those unambiguous words, several heads swiveled instantly toward the carriage. Elenora realized that she and Arthur and Jeremy were suddenly the focus of every member of Society who happened to be in the vicinity. It was rather like being caught in the fierce heat of a burning lens.

  Jeremy’s jaw dropped. Elenora did not blame him. She was almost certain that her own mouth had fallen open as well.

  She could scarcely believe what she had just heard. Arthur had threatened Jeremy with a duel.

  “Now, see here, sir, I don’t know what—” Jeremy broke off to jerk violently on the reins of his agitated horse.

  The additional insult was too much for the beast. It reared wildly, hooves flailing.

  Jeremy lost his balance and began an inevitable slide to one side. He fought frantically to regain his seat, but when the horse took off at full gallop, he had no chance. He fell hard on the path, landing on his rear.

  Feminine giggles and raucous masculine laughter emanated from passing carriages and riders nearby who had witnessed the debacle.

  Arthur ignored the entire scene. He tweaked the reins and the grays moved out in a snapping trot.

  Elenora looked back over her shoulder and watched Jeremy pick himself up, dust off his rump and stalk away across the grass. The one glimpse she got of his flushed face was sufficient to send a shudder through her. Jeremy was furious.

  She turned around quickly and sat, gazing straight ahead, clinging tensely to her parasol. “I apologize for that unfortunate scene,” she said tightly. “I was caught by surprise. I certainly never expected to find myself face-to-face with Jeremy here in London.”

  Arthur guided the horses toward the gates. “I believe we shall go home now. Thanks to Clyde, we have achieved our purpose. Our presence here in the park this afternoon was most certainly noted and will no doubt be remarked upon at length this evening in every ballroom in town.”

  “No doubt.” She swallowed and glanced at him quickly, uncertain of his mood. “It is generous of you to take such a positive view of the situation.”

  “My good nature has some limitations,” he said. “I will expect you to keep your distance from Clyde.”

  “Of course,” she said, appalled that he would think that she might want to have anything to do with Jeremy. “I assure you, I have no wish to speak to him again.”

  “I believe you. But he may well try to presume on your previous association.”

  She frowned. “I do not see how.”

  “As you yourself noted, Clyde is nothing if not an opportunist. He may convince himself that he can find a way to turn his acquaintance with you to his advantage.”

  She was hurt that he thought for even a moment that she needed to be warned. “I promise you, I will be careful.”

  “I would appreciate that. This situations has already become complicated enough as it is.”

  Her heart sank. He was certainly not pleased, she thought. And why should he be, come to that? The incident with Jeremy was the second complication in which she had been involved that day.

  If she found herself connected to any more irksome problems, Arthur might well conclude that she was more trouble than she was worth.

  Judging from his pensive, brooding expression, she suspected that he was thinking similar thoughts.

  Concluding that it would be a very good idea to change the subject, she seized upon the first one that came to mind.

  “I must compliment you on your excellent acting talents, my lord,” she said with an approving air. “Your implied threat to issue a challenge to Jeremy should he spread unpleasant gossip about me was extremely convincing.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, indeed. It was only a single line, but you delivered it in a most gripping manner, my lord. Just the right degree of cool understatement, if I may say so. Why, your words even sent a shudder through me.”

  “It remains to be seen if Clyde was similarly affected,” Arthur said thoughtfully.

  “I’m certain that he was.” She chuckled. “For a moment, you actually had me persuaded. I vow, had I not known that you were merely acting a part in this play we are staging, I would have sworn that you meant every word you said.”

  He gave her a curious look. “What makes you think that I didn’t mean exactly what I said?”

  “Really, sir, you are teasing me,” she said.

  They both knew that he had not meant that threat, she thought. After all, if Arthur had not bothered to pursue his real betrothed when she had run off with another man, he was hardly likely to engage in a duel over the honor of an imitation fiancée.

  It was only much later, when she was going upstairs to her bedchamber, that she remembered that Arthur had never answered her question: He had not told her what he did to make himself happy.

  17

  The buxom serving wench made one more attempt to snag his attention when she saw that he was making for the door of the smoky tavern. Ibbitts gave her a brief, contemptuous survey, letting her know that the sight of her full breasts spilling out of the stained bodice of her dress filled him with disgust, not lust. Her cheeks went red. Anger and humiliation flashed across her face. With a swish of her skirts, she whirled and hurried off toward a table of raucous patrons.

  Ibbitts muttered a curse and opened the door. He had been in a foul temper since St. Merryn had let him go two days earlier. Several hours of drinking bad ale
and throwing bad dice tonight had done nothing to improve his mood.

  He slouched down the steps into the street, turned and started toward his new lodgings. It was just going on midnight, and there was a full moon; an ideal setting for footpads. A number of carriages rattled up and down the street. He knew they were filled with drunken gentlemen who, bored with their clubs and ballrooms, came to this neighborhood in search of more earthy pleasures.

  He shoved one hand deep into the pocket of his coat and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife that he had brought along for protection.

  The silly serving wench was a fool to think that he would even consider lifting her skirts. Why would he want to share the filthy sheets of a tavern girl who likely bathed only once a week, if that? In the past few years he had become accustomed to tumbling the clean, perfumed ladies of the Quality; ladies who dressed in silks and satins; ladies who were ever so grateful for the attentions of a strong, well-made man who could satisfy them in bed.

  A figure moved in the shadows of the alley up ahead. He tensed, nervously tightening his hand around the hilt of the knife. He heard the slap of shoes on pavement and glanced back at the tavern door, wondering if he should make a run for it.

  At that moment a drunken whore stumbled out of the darkness, singing an off-key ballad to herself. She spotted him and stumbled to a halt.

  “Well, now, yer a fine-looking one, ye are,” she called out. “What d’ya say to a bit o’ sport? I’ll give ye a good price. Half the gennelmen’s rate. How does that sound?”

  “Get out of my way, you stupid woman.”

  “No call to be rude.” She hunched her shoulders and headed toward the lights of the tavern. “That’s always the way with the handsome ones. Think they’re too good for the likes of a hardworking girl.”

  Ibbitts relaxed a little but quickened his pace. He was anxious to get back to the safety of his new lodgings. It was time to contemplate his future. He had plans to make.