The Paid Companion (13 page)

“Come, Miss Lodge. We’ll go into the library to have our conversation.”

Arthur picked up a candle and led the way down the hall.

She followed cautiously. Was he annoyed by the overly enthusiastic manner she had exhibited during that kiss? Perhaps she could explain that she had been equally surprised by her heretofore unexpected acting talents.

Arthur ushered her into the library and closed the door with an unmistakable air of finality.

Elenora felt a sense of doom descend upon her.

Without a word, Arthur set the candle down and crossed the carpet to the hearth. He went down on one knee and coaxed the embers into a blaze. When he was satisfied, he rose, untied his neckcloth and tossed it over a nearby chair. Then he unfastened his white linen shirt far enough to reveal a few curling dark hairs on his chest.

Elenora forced herself to look away from his bare throat. She must concentrate, she thought. Her post was at stake. She could not let him dismiss her out of hand simply because she had kissed him with a little too much exuberance. All right, make that a great deal of exuberance, she amended silently. Either way, it was not her fault.

She cleared her throat. “Sir, if you disapprove of my suggestion that we embrace earlier this evening, I apologize. However, I must point out that you did hire me in large part for my acting skills.”

He picked up the brandy decanter. “Miss Lodge-”

“I would also like to remind you that my grandmother was a professional actress.”

He poured two measures of brandy and nodded solemnly. “Yes, you have mentioned your grandmother on several occasions.”

“The thing is, it may be that I got more of her thespian abilities than I had realized, if you see what I mean.” She gestured widely with her fan. “That would account for the degree of drama in my, uh, performance. I assure you it took me every bit as much by surprise as it did you.”

“Is that so?” He handed her a glass of brandy and then propped himself on the corner of his desk. He swirled the contents of his glass and regarded her with a brooding expression.

“Yes.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “In future, I shall try to moderate my talents in that area.”

“We will return to the subject of your acting talents in a moment. First I want to finish the discussion we were engaged in when we were interrupted by that pair of rumormongers in the gardens.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the glass he had given her and concluded that she needed something to fortify herself.

She took a healthy swallow of the fiery spirits and nearly stopped breathing altogether when the stuff hit the back of her throat. It was as if she had swallowed the sun.

Arthur evidently noticed something was amiss because he raised his brows.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Lodge.”

She dropped like a stone onto the sofa and breathed deeply.

“This is very strong brandy,” she wheezed.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, raising his own glass to his mouth. “It is also very expensive. I find that it is best sipped rather than gulped.”

“I shall remember that in future.”

He nodded. “Now then, I told you that I had uncovered the name of a gentleman who may know something concerning the snuffboxes. I plan to talk to him. I would appreciate any notions you might have on the question of locating my great-uncle’s assistant, John Watt, however.”

“The man who disappeared the night of the murder?”

“Yes. I have spent the past three days going about his old haunts, the coffee houses and taverns he favored, the neighborhood where he grew up, that sort of thing. But thus far I have discovered no trace of him. It is as if he simply vanished.”

Elenora thought about that. “Have you talked to the members of his family?”

“Watt was an orphan. He had no family.”

“And you’re quite certain he is not the killer?”

Arthur started to shake his head, but he paused and then opened one powerful hand, palm up. “When it comes to human nature, anything is possible, but I do not believe that Watt is the villain of this piece. I have known him for years. He is honest and hardworking. Furthermore, he was devoted to my great-uncle, who trusted him and paid him well. I cannot envision Watt turning on him.”

“He stole nothing that night? None of the silver was missing?”

“Then perhaps you looked in the wrong places when you went to the coffeehouses and taverns where Watt was accustomed to meeting his friends,” Elenora said slowly.

“Where would you look?” he queried.

“It is none of my business,” Elenora said carefully. “And heaven knows I have had no experience whatsoever in solving crimes. But it seems to me that an honest, hardworking man who fled in fear of his life but who also neglected to take any valuables to help pay for his food and lodging would have only one thing on his mind.”

“And that would be?”

“Finding employment as quickly as possible.”

Arthur did not move. Comprehension gleamed in his eyes. “Of course,” he said very softly. “I have overlooked the obvious. But that still leaves a great deal of territory to be covered. How does one go about finding a single man in this city?”

“Are you certain that he was single?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said he was a young man with no family. Is there, perhaps, a sweetheart in the picture?”

Arthur raised his half-finished brandy in a deliberate toast. “An excellent notion, Miss Lodge. Now that you mention it, I recall a certain young maid in my great-uncle’s household who seemed quite fond of Watt. I will interview her first thing tomorrow.”

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 not dare look back to see how he had reacted to that comment. Instead she forced herself to walk, not run, toward the stairs. n hour passed before she heard the steady, muffled thud of his footsteps in the hail 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.