The Paid Companion

by Amanda Quick

  She relaxed slightly. He seemed pleased now. Perhaps he would not let her go after all.

  Arthur came away from the desk and went to stand in front of the fire. The flickering light of the flames made the brandy in his faceted glass glow like a liquid jewel.

  “I had a hunch that talking to you might help me clarify my own thoughts,” he said after a moment. “Thank you for your observations and comments.”

  His praise warmed her more than the fire. She felt herself blush slightly. “I hope you will find them useful. I wish you good luck, sir.”

  “Thank you. I will no doubt need it.” He continued to study the flames as though seeking answers or, perhaps, insight. “Now we come to the second subject that I wish to discuss tonight.”

  She braced herself. “Yes, my lord?”

  “That kiss in the gardens this evening.”

  She gripped the brandy glass. “The lady’s comments about our relationship made me think that she did not believe that we are, indeed, engaged, sir. It occurred to me that if word got around that ours is a love match, the Polite World might be more inclined to accept our little fiction.”

  “It was a very clever move on your part,” he said. “I congratulate you on your quick thinking.”

  Enormously relieved, she took a quick, tiny sip of the brandy.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, trying to sound professional and competent. “I did my best to make my performance realistic.”

  He turned around to look at her with eyes that reflected the heat of the fire. Something deep within her tightened once more, just as it had earlier in the gardens when he had returned her kiss.

  A dangerous, seductive excitement crackled invisibly in the air between them. She sensed that he was as affected by the strong passions echoing around them as she was herself. The brandy glass in her hand trembled.

  “You certainly achieved your objective.” He set his own glass on the mantel and started toward her with a slow, deliberate stride. His eyes never left hers. “In fact, I was so caught up in the moment that I wondered if, perhaps, you were not merely acting.”

  She tried, but she could not think of a single intelligent thing to say in response to that observation. She sat there, frozen in place on the edge of the sofa, and watched him close the space between them.

  He stopped directly in front of her and gently removed the brandy glass from her fingers. He put it down on the table without taking his gaze off her face.

  His hands closed over her shoulders. He brought her to her feet.

  “Was it all pretense?” He drew his thumb across her parted lips. “Are you that good an actress, Miss Lodge?”

  The velvety rasp of his fingertip on her mouth stole her breath. The small caress was exquisitely intimate. She ached with the need for more of his touch.

  Words failed her. A good actress could lie through her teeth when called upon to do so, she reminded herself. But for some peculiar reason she could not summon the denial she knew she should issue.

  Instead, she touched the tip of her tongue to the edge of his thumb. The texture of his skin sent a delicious little shiver through her.

  Arthur smiled slowly. Elenora flushed. She could not believe that she had done that with her tongue. Where had the urge to taste him come from? she wondered, a little panicked.

  “I think that answers my question.” Arthur wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and lowered his mouth until his lips hovered just above hers. “I must confess that I was not acting either, this evening out there in the gardens.”

  “Arthur.”

  He kissed her as though savoring some forbidden elixir. But she was the one who was sampling the unknown tonight, she thought. Feverish thrills raced through her, leaving her hot and cold and strangely euphoric. She clamped her fingers around his shoulders and clung for dear life.

  He took her clutching fingers as an invitation and deepened the kiss. When she felt his tongue slide along her lower lip she was startled, but she did not pull back.

  This was that stimulating pleasure that her grandmother had told her could be found in the arms of the right man. What she had felt when Jeremy Clyde had kissed her had been only a shallow brook compared to this raging waterfall of sensation.

  She wanted to throw herself over the edge and sink all the way to the bottom of the mysterious pool.

  Arthur took the pins from her hair, his movements so exquisitely intimate that she trembled. No man had ever taken down her hair.

  And then his mouth was on her throat. She felt the edge of his teeth.

  Lucinda’s remark concerning Arthur’s runaway fiancée drifted through her dazed mind. She was terrified of him.

  Arthur cradled her breast in his palm. She could feel the heat of his hand burning through the fine green silk of her bodice.

  She moaned softly and moved her arms up around his neck.

  But instead of responding by tightening his hold on her, he muttered something soft and rueful, something that might have been a muffled curse. Reluctantly he raised his head and set her a short distance away.

  He cupped her face in his hands and smiled wryly.

  “This is neither the time nor the place,” he said. His voice was rough with passion and regret. “You hold a unique post in this household, but that does not alter the fact that you are a member of my staff. I have never taken advantage of any woman in my employ, and I certainly do not intend to make an exception with you.”

  For a second she could not believe she had heard him aright. He still thought of her as just another member of his household staff? After that passionate embrace? After he had taken her into his confidence and asked her advice on how to conduct his investigation?

  Reality slammed back, ripping apart the delicate web of sensual pleasure and desire that she had spun around herself. She did not know whether to be furious or mortified. Indeed, the mix of anger, frustration and embarrassment that swirled through her left her almost speechless.

  Almost, but not quite.

  “Forgive me, sir,” she said, layering each word with a thick coating of ice. “I had no notion that you viewed me as just another member of your staff—”

  “Elenora.”

  She stepped back, forcing him to drop his hands from her face. “And I would not dream of allowing you to violate your strict rules regarding your conduct toward females in your employ.”

  “Hell’s teeth, Elenora—”

  She gave him her most brilliant smile. “Rest assured, I will endeavor not to forget my place again. I certainly would not want to be responsible for putting such a high-minded employer in such an untenable position again, sir.”

  His jaw hardened. “You are misinterpreting my words.”

  “They seem quite clear to me.” She made a show of glancing at the tall clock. “Gracious, the hour grows late, does it not?” She sank into her most elegant curtsy. “If you have no further need of my services this evening, I will bid you good night, sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes in warning. “Damnation, Elenora.”

  She spun on her heel, giving him her back, and walked quickly toward the door.

  His stride was longer than hers. He got to the door ahead of her. For a frantic moment she tried to decide what she would do if he barred her path.

  But he did not try to stop her from making her grand exit. Instead, he opened the door for her with a graceful flourish and inclined his head in a mocking bow.

  When she swept through the opening, head high, she glimpsed his wicked smile out of the corner of her eye.

  “When this affair is over, Miss Lodge, I shall, of course, be forced to terminate your employment in this household,” he said coolly. “When that day comes, I assure you, we will return to this conversation and consider carefully what course our association will take in future.”

  “Do not depend upon having any such a considered discussion, my lord. I see no reason to offer again what has already been rejected once.”

  She did n
ot dare look back to see how he had reacted to that comment. Instead she forced herself to walk, not run, toward the stairs.

  An hour passed before she heard the steady, muffled thud of his footsteps in the hall outside her bedchamber. The sound seemed to reverberate with the beat of her heart.

  He paused at her door. The tension was unbearable. Would he knock softly?

  Of course he would not knock, softly or otherwise. He had just made it very clear that he would not do any such thing.

  But she sensed him there, on the other side of her door, and she suddenly knew, as clearly as though she could read his mind, that he was thinking about knocking; thinking quite hard.

  After a while she heard him go on down the hall to his own bedchamber.

  14

  Elenora opened her eyes very cautiously. She was vastly relieved to see the crack of light in the drapes that meant morning had finally arrived. The clock on the table read nine-fifteen. She was surprised to realize that she had finally managed to get some sleep.

  It seemed to her that most of the night had been spent alternating between strange dreams and long, restless bouts of wakefulness during which she relived the kiss in the library a hundred times.

  She shoved aside the covers and put on her slippers and wrapper. She washed quickly at the washstand, wincing at the bracing sting of the cold water. When she was through, she twisted her hair up into a neat knot and pinned a pristine white cap over it. Then she went to the wardrobe to survey the array of gowns hanging inside.

  The pretty new clothes that she had ordered from Mrs. Egan’s longtime dressmaker were a positive feature of this new post, she thought. Not that they would do her any good when she left for her next position. It was highly unlikely that any of her future employers would want to hire a professional companion who dressed in such a fashionable manner.

  As she had anticipated, the dressmaker had been only too happy to observe discretion on the subject of her knowledge of her new client’s recent post in Mrs. Egan’s household. But, then, any ambitious dressmaker worth her needles would have had sense enough not to gossip in such a situation, Elenora thought.

  As for her own situation, she refused to worry about future wardrobe problems. With luck there would not be a great number of new employers or new posts to concern her, she thought, reaching for a cheerful yellow-orange morning gown trimmed with pale green ribbons. Thanks to the triple wages and the bonus that St. Merryn was paying her, she would have almost enough money to secure a lease on a small bookshop when she left this household. If she was fortunate in her next post, another six months of employment would ensure that she had sufficient funds to stock her shop with the latest novels.

  And then she would be free and independent at last.

  While she dressed, she forced herself to concentrate on her shiny new future instead of Arthur’s heated kisses.

  She found the hallway empty when she opened the door of her bedchamber a few minutes later. She wondered if Arthur had already gone downstairs to breakfast. In spite of what had happened the night before, she discovered that she was quite looking forward to seeing him again this morning. She went quietly toward the staircase, careful not to make any noise that might awaken Margaret.

  At the foot of the stairs she turned and went along the corridor that took her to the back of the house.

  Taking a deep breath, she raised her chin, assumed a grand air and swept into the dining room as though absolutely nothing had happened the night before.

  Her performance was for naught. The room was empty.

  So much for showing Arthur that his kisses were completely unmemorable. Sighing, she went through the doorway that opened into the pantry and descended the narrow steps to the lower floor where the kitchens were located. Her slippered feet made no sound on the treads.

  A cup of tea and a slice of warm toast would be enough for her this morning, she decided.

  She heard the muffled voices just as she arrived at the bottom of the steps. They were coming from behind a closed door. She recognized them immediately. Ibbitts and the maid, Sally.

  “Stop your damned sniveling, you stupid creature,” Ibbitts snarled softly. “You’ll do as I say or you’ll find yourself on the streets again.”

  “Please don’t make me do this, Mr. Ibbitts.” Sally was sobbing. “It was one thing to go through Miss Lodge’s personal things when I unpacked her trunk. I didn’t like it but at least I wasn’t doing her any harm. This is different. If you make me steal her pretty little watch, I could be arrested and hung.”

  “Bah. Even if he caught you in the act, St. Merryn wouldn’t turn you over to the Runners. I’ve served in enough households to know the type of employer who would do that, and he’s not one of ’em. Too softhearted by far.”

  Ibbitts did not sound particularly approving of Arthur’s kind temperament, Elenora noted.

  “At the very least, he’ll turn me off without a reference.” Sally cried harder. “You know how badly I need this post. Don’t make me risk it.”

  “You’ll lose your precious post for certain if you don’t do as you’re told, girl. I’ll see to that. Remember what happened to young Paul when he refused to give me my fee. Straight out onto the street he went, and without a reference. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s making a living as a footpad by now. Probably hanged by Christmas.”

  Elenora heard Sally’s great, gulping gasps very clearly through the panels of the door.

  “I just can’t, sir. I’m a good girl. I’ve never done anything this bad. I just can’t.”

  “A good girl, are you?” Ibbitts laughed harshly. “Not according to your last employer. She tossed you out for seducing her son, didn’t she? Found you on your back in the still room, your feet kicking in the air, her precious boy between your legs, didn’t she?”

  “That’s not how it was,” Sally croaked. “He attacked me, he did.”

  “Because you tempted him. I’ll wager you thought he’d give you some money for your efforts.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It makes no matter,” Ibbitts shot back. “The thing to remember is that you didn’t get a reference, and we both know that you’d be servicing gentlemen in alleys by now if I hadn’t taken you in. You’re lucky to have any post at all.”

  “Please, sir. I’ve done everything you asked so far, and I give you your fee out of my quarterly wages. I can’t do this thing you want. I just can’t. It’s not right.”

  Elenora had had enough. She tried the doorknob. It twisted easily in her hand. She shoved the door open with such force that it slammed against the wall and bounced a couple of times.

  Startled, Ibbitts and Sally stared at her, openmouthed.

  Ibbitts’s statue-perfect features transformed themselves into a mask of rage.

  Rising panic bloomed in Sally’s gaze. She put her hand to her throat and made a small, frantic, squeaking sound not unlike a little bird that has fallen from its nest.

  Elenora rounded on Ibbitts. “Your vile behavior is unacceptable. You will collect your things at once and leave this house immediately.”

  Ibbitts recovered quickly, his fine mouth twisting into a sneer. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are to interfere in my private business like this?”

  Now would probably be an excellent time to fall back on the authority that came with her fictitious role as Arthur’s fiancée, Elenora decided.

  “I am the future mistress of this household,” she announced coldly. “And I will not tolerate your despicable actions.”

  “Future mistress, eh?” An unholy glee leaped in Ibbitts’s eyes. But instead of launching a verbal assault, he jerked his thumb at the hapless Sally. “Get out of here, girl. Go to your bedchamber. I’ll finish with you later.”

  Sally blanched. “Aye, Mr. Ibbitts, sir.”

  She scurried toward the door, where Elenora stood blocking the exit.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Lodge,” she pleaded through quivering lips. “Please let m
e leave.”

  Elenora handed her a handkerchief and stepped aside. “Go on, Sally. Dry your tears. All will be well.”

  Sally gave no sign that she believed that for an instant. She seized the square of embroidered linen and used it to cover her face as she rushed out of the room.

  Elenora was alone with Ibbitts.

  He looked her up and down, dismissing her with a degree of disdain that would have done justice to an arrogant gentleman of the ton. “Well, now, Miss Lodge, I reckon it’s time we got something settled here. We both know that you will never be the future mistress of this household, don’t we?”

  Her stomach turned over, but she kept her face impassive. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ibbitts.”

  “Just because his lordship managed to pass you off as a fine lady in front of the quality, don’t think you’ve got me fooled. You’re no more than a paid companion. You’re in this house on a temporary basis. When St. Merryn no longer needs you, you’ll be let go just like any other member of the staff whose services are no longer required.”

  Elenora’s palms tingled. She had been right when she’d warned Arthur that it would be difficult to deceive the servants. Her only hope was to bluff her way through this confrontation.

  “You have obviously been eavesdropping on your employer, Ibbitts,” she said evenly. “A very bad habit, indeed. And as is often the case when one listens to conversations not meant to be overheard by others, you have got the facts wrong.”

  “Bah. I’ve got the facts right enough, and well you know it. St. Merryn hired you from that agency, Goodhew and Willis, didn’t he? I heard him tell Mrs. Lancaster about his scheme. He’s paying you a fee to play the role of his fiancée. Do you know what that makes you, Miss Lodge? An actress.”

  “Enough, Ibbitts,” she snapped.

  “We all know about actresses, don’t we?” He gave a snort of disgust. “Like as not, you’ll be warming his lordship’s bed before you’re finished with this post.”

  Ibbitts had known the truth all along, she thought. That explained the thinly veiled contempt she had noticed in his attitude toward her from the moment she arrived. But judging by the way he had sent Sally out of the room just now, it was clear that he had kept the secret to himself, no doubt intending to wait until he could turn it to his advantage.