The Paid Companion (34 page)

Lady Wilmington bowed her head and clasped the locket very tightly in her fingers. She did not speak.

“Where is Parker?” Arthur asked.

Lady Wilmington raised her head. A quiet resolve seemed to have settled upon her. “There is no longer any need for you to concern yourself with my grandson, sir. I have taken care of the situation.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened. “Surely you understand that he must be stopped, madam.”

“Yes. And I have done just that.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“There will be no more murders.” Lady Wilmington’s hand dropped away from the locket. “You have my word. Parker is in a place where he can do no one, including himself, any more harm.”

Elenora searched her face. “What have you done, madam?”

“My grandson is insane.” Tears glittered in Lady Wilmington’s eyes. “I can no longer pretend otherwise. But please understand that I could not bear the thought of him being chained in Bedlam.”

Elenora shuddered. “No one would wish such a fate on a beloved relative. But-”

“After you left me the other day, I summoned my personal doctor. I have known him for years, and I trust him completely. He made arrangements for Parker to be taken to a private asylum in the country.”

“You have had him committed to an asylum?” Arthur repeated sharply.

“Yes. Dr. Mitchell and two attendants went to Parker’s lodgings this afternoon. They surprised him as he was dressing to go out to his club, and they subdued him.”

Arthur frowned. “Are you certain of that?”

“I went with them and watched those men overcome Parker and strap him into that dreadful strait-waistcoat. My grandson pleaded with me as they forced him into a barred wagon. And then they silenced him with a strip of cloth across his mouth. I could not stop crying for hours.”

“Dear God,” Elenora whispered.

Lady Wilmington stared dully at the candle. “I assure you, tonight has been the most terrible night of my entire life. It was even worse than the day I learned that Treyford had been lost to me forever.”

Elenora felt tears swim in her own eyes. She rose quickly and went to Lady Wilmington’s chair. Sinking to her knees, she covered the woman’s hands with her own.

“I am so sorry that you were forced to endure such a great tragedy,” she told her.

Lady Wilmington did not seem to hear her. She continued to gaze at the candle.

“There is something I would like clarified, if you don’t mind, Lady Wilmington,” Arthur said quietly. “If Parker was taken away to a private asylum earlier today, who arranged for Roland Burnley to receive a note telling him to go to an address near the Green Lyon tonight? And who made certain that I would follow him and discover the snuffboxes?”

Lady Wilmington heaved a sigh. “Parker is extremely exacting when it comes to making plans. It is yet another trait that he inherited from Treyford. His scheme involving you and young Mr. Burnley this evening must have been in place before the attendants took him away this afternoon. I’m sorry, I knew nothing about it. If I had realized what was afoot, I would have sent a warning to you, sir. At least no one else has died since you came to me with your tale.”

“True.” Arthur flexed one hand into a fist and then released it. “Although the situation was somewhat uncertain there for a while tonight when I found Burnley with those damned snuffboxes.”

Lady Wilmington used a handkerchief to wipe her tears. “I am so very sorry, sir. I do not know what else to say.”

“Speaking of the snuffboxes,” Arthur continued, “I wonder why Parker arranged for me to discover them? You say he was obsessed with constructing Jove’s Thunderbolt. If that was true, he needed the red stones. Why let two of them fall into my hands?”

Elenora got to her feet. “Perhaps we had better take a closer look at those snuffboxes. I can think of only one reason why Parker would let you find them.”

Arthur caught her meaning at once. He opened the velvet sack and removed one of the snuffboxes. Then he lit the lamp on the small writing desk.

Elenora watched as he held the lid of the box in the light of the lamp and studied it closely.

“Yes, of course,” he said, slowly lowering the snuffbox.

“What is it?” Lady Wilmington asked.

“I will take the boxes to a jeweler in the morning to make absolutely certain,” Arthur said. “But I think it is safe to say that this stone is merely colored glass that has been cut to resemble the original gem.”

“Now it all makes sense,” Elenora said. “Parker removed all three of the red stones and had them replaced with glass replicas. I wonder where he hid the real gems?”

Lady Wilmington shook her head, perplexed. “I suppose it’s possible he had them on his person when they took him away this afternoon. But perhaps they are hidden somewhere in his lodgings.”

“If you will give me the address, I will search his rooms tomorrow morning,” Arthur said.

Lady Wilmington looked at him with a despair that caught at Elenora’s heart.

“I will give you the key to Parker’s rooms,” Lady Wilmington declared. “I can only pray that you will forgive me for not being more forthright with you from the start of this affair.”

“We comprehend your feelings in this matter.” Elenora soothed the woman’s trembling hands. “He is your grandson, and he is all that you have left of your lost love.”

***

A few minutes later Arthur got into the carriage after Elenora. Instead of sitting across from her as was his usual practice, he lowered himself down beside her. With a deeply felt sigh he stretched out his legs. His thigh brushed against hers.

His close physical proximity was somehow comforting rather than stimulating tonight, she noticed. It was a good feeling, and she knew that it was yet another aspect of their association that she would miss in the years ahead.

“It makes sense that he would have arranged his plans yesterday or even the day before,” Arthur said after a while. “He used Jeremy Clyde, who unknowingly played his part and dropped the lure that took me to the Green Lyon this evening. In addition, Parker no doubt set some street boys to watch for me to arrive. One of them must have noticed me inside this hired carriage and delivered the message to Burnley.”

“All in the hopes of distracting you by making you think that you had found your killer.”

“Yes.”

“He assumed that you would be all too eager to believe that Burnley was the villain. After all, Roland had run off with your fiancée.” She smiled wryly. “How could the killer have possibly known that you bore no ill will toward Roland and had, in fact, orchestrated the elopement?”

“It was his only miscalculation.”

“Yes. And speaking of mistakes, obviously it was, indeed, my overheated imagination that made me think that footman who touched me in the ballroom this evening was the murderer.” She shivered. “I must admit I’m very glad I was wrong about his identity.”

“So am I. The notion that he might have touched you again-”

“For what it is worth sir, I believe that Lady Wilmington took the right course of action,” she said quickly, hoping to distract his thoughts. “Parker is mad. There were only two options, an asylum or the gallows.”

“I agree.”

“It is over,” she said gently. “The affair is concluded. You have fulfilled your responsibility. Let your mind be at ease.”

He did not speak. But after a while he reached out, clasped her hand and closed his fingers very tightly around hers.

They sat without speaking, holding hands, until the carriage arrived at the front door of the big house in Rain Street.

34

The clock on the table beside the bed read three-fifteen. Arthur looked at it from his post near the window. He had undressed but he had not yet bothered to climb beneath the quilts. There was no point. It was not sleep he needed.

He needed Elenora.

The house seemed to slumber around him. The servants had long since gone to bed. If past behavior was a reliable guide, Bennett would not bring Margaret home until dawn.

He wondered if Elenora was finding sleep as elusive as he was finding it.

He looked out the window into the night-drenched garden and thought about how Elenora would look curled up in bed. Then he reminded himself yet again that a gentleman must not knock on a lady’s bedchamber door unless he had been invited to do so.

Elenora had not issued any invitations when he had said good night to her a short time ago. In point of fact, she had instructed him quite succinctly to get some sleep.

He was not in a mood to follow those orders.

He contemplated the darkness for a while longer. It would be irresponsible to go to Elenora’s room. True, they had got away with that episode in the library, but he had no right to put her into such a potentially embarrassing situation again.

The risks were many and varied. Margaret and Bennett could easily come home early, and Margaret might discover that he was in the wrong bedchamber. Or one of the servants might hear the creak of the floorboards and, fearing burglars, come upstairs to investigate.

But he knew, deep down, it was not the risk of discovery that was holding him back. It was the possibility that all Elenora wanted or needed from him was a short-lived passion.

He thought about her dreams of financial and personal independence. For a brief, heady moment he pictured what it would be like to cast off the shackles of his responsibilities to the Lancaster family and run away with Elenora.

The fantasy of living a gloriously free life with her in some far-off clime, well beyond the reach of his relatives and the demands of those who depended upon him, shimmered in front of his eyes, an effervescent reflection on the window pane.

The image quickly vanished. He had commitments. He would keep them.

But tonight Elenora was only just down the hail.

He tightened the sash of his black silk dressing gown and turned away from the window. Picking up the candle, he crossed the room, opened the door and let himself out into the corridor.

He stood listening for a few seconds. There was no sound of a carriage out in the street, no noise from downstairs.

He went along the hall and stopped in front of Elenora’s bedchamber. No light shone beneath the door. He told himself he should take that as a sign that, unlike him, she had been able to go to sleep.

But what if she was lying there in the darkness, wide awake? It would not hurt to tap lightly on the door. If she was sound asleep, she would not notice the small noise.

He rapped, not quite as softly as he had intended. But, then, what would have been the point of a soundless little tap?

For a moment he heard nothing. Then he caught the unmistakable squeak of the bed frame followed by muffled footsteps.

The door opened. Elenora looked out at him with eyes that appeared fathomless in the glow of the candle. Her dark hair was pinned up under a lacy little cap. She wore a plain dressing gown patterned with small flowers.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered.

“Invite me inside.”

Her brows knit together. “Why?”

“Because, as a gentleman, I cannot enter your bedchamber without an invitation.”

“Oh.”

He held his breath, wondering what she would do.

Her mouth curved in a slow, sensual smile. She stood back and held the door wide. “Please, come in.”

Desire so powerful that it threatened to consume every other sensation thundered through his veins. He was already hard, fiercely aroused. He was desperate for her.

It took all the control he possessed not to seize her and carry her straight to the bed. He forced himself to move silently into the room and set the candle down on the nearest table.

She closed the door noiselessly and turned to face him.

“Arthur, I-”

“Hush. No one must hear us talking together in here.”

He took her into his arms and kissed her before she could speak another word.

Her arms went around him very tightly. He felt her nails sink into his back through the silk of his dressing gown. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing him inside.

He would control himself, he vowed. This time he would make the experience one that would ensure that she never forgot him.

He slid his palms down her spine, savoring the elegant curve. When his fingers closed over her hips, the feel of her firm, round buttocks under his hands almost sent him over the edge. He squeezed gently and urged her snugly against his rigid staff

Another delicious little shiver went through her. She made a tiny, breathless sound and clung to him.

He moved his hands around her waist and undid the knot in the sash that held her wrapper together. The garment parted to reveal a simple white lawn nightgown trimmed at the throat with lace and blue ribbons. He could see the soft swell of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples pressing against the delicate fabric.

He kissed her throat and then caught her dainty, delicate ear lobe between his teeth. She responded with more shivers and a choked gasp of pleasure. Her reaction thrilled him and stirred him in a way that no drug could ever match.

One by one he removed the pins that secured her little cap. When the last one came free, her hair tumbled over his hands. He made a fist in the sweet, scented tresses and used it to anchor her head for more kisses.

She pushed her hand beneath the lapel of his dressing gown and flattened her palm across his bare chest. The heat of her fingers was so intense that it was all he could do to swallow his groan of raw need.

He looked down into her face. There was enough light from the candle to show him that her expression was drenched in wonder and passion. She parted her lips, and he knew that she had already sunk so far into the realm of sensation that she had forgotten the need for silence.

Hastily, he covered her open mouth with his hand and shook his head, smiling slightly. Rueful comprehension gleamed in her eyes. A teasing, provocative light quickly followed. Very gently, very deliberately, she bit the palm of his hand.

He almost laughed aloud. Half-drunk with the knowledge of what was yet to come, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.