The Paid Companion (8 page)

He had eventually left her service and sought another post. It had not taken him long to find an even more lucrative position in another wealthy household. Once again he had found himself called upon to satisfy a young wife whose bald, middle-aged husband spent most of his nights with his mistress.

Like his first employer, the lady had been very generous, not just with her favors and his quarterly wages, but also, more important, with expensive gifts.

For a few years he had pursued his career with great diligence. In addition to a number of posts in which he was obliged to meet the demands of several astonishingly lusty ladies, he had obtained one or two positions in the service of wealthy gentlemen. The men had been just as appreciative of his two great assets as the women.

But a year ago, disaster had struck. True, he had long since grown weary of the tiresome demands of his employers. Work that nature had intended to be pleasurable had become, well, work. Nevertheless, he had told himself that the pay and the gifts were worth the labor.

Then one night, to his great horror, a problem arose. Rather, to be more precise, his second great asset had failed to arise.

His face might have been his fortune, but it was not much good on its own. His excellent career depended just as much, if not more, upon his reliability and endurance in bed.

To his dismay, he had been ignominiously let go from his post. But once again luck had been with him. Seven months ago he had found his present position here in the mansion in Rain Street. The elderly man-of-business who had hired him had given him a few simple instructions. Ibbitts was to supervise a small staff suitable for maintaining the large house and ensure that the earl’s London residence would be ready for its owner on the rare occasions that St. Merryn elected to come to town for one of his brief stays.

Ibbitts had found his new post to be ideal in every respect. Not only was there no employer to be kept satisfied in the bedchamber, but St. Merryn had not even bothered to put in an appearance.

Until now Ibbitts had been free to do as he liked in the big house. He had used the opportunity to set about making arrangements for an early and comfortable retirement.

Things had been going well until St. Merryn had arrived a few days before, unannounced, expecting the household to be prepared for him. Ibbitts had been terrified for the first twenty-four hours after the earl had taken up residence. Emboldened by the long absence of his employer, he had made several modifications in the staff. The result was that the mansion was not in the best order.

He had made the changes for an excellent reason: economy. There had been no point retaining the cook or the housekeeper or the second chambermaid or the gardeners when the mansion’s owner was not around to make use of their services.

He could only hope that St. Merryn would not stay long, Ibbitts thought. In the meantime, he would learn as much as possible about the earl’s private affairs.

Over the course of his career, he had discovered that there was often a very good market for information about his employers’ secrets.

8

Bennett lowered himself into the chair across from Arthur and glanced back once more toward the lean, angry young man who was just leaving the club. “I see Burnley is here this afternoon.”

“Yes.” Arthur did not look up from his newspaper.

“I saw him watching you a few minutes ago. I swear, if looks could kill, you would have cocked up your toes by now.”

Arthur turned the page. “Fortunately, looks do not have that effect upon me. At least, Burnley’s do not.”

“I believe that he has conceived a deep hatred of you,” Bennett warned quietly.

“I cannot comprehend why. He is the one who got the lady, not me.”

Bennett sighed and sank deeper into his chair. It worried him that Arthur refused to show any signs of concern about Roland Burnley’s clear and unwavering dislike of him. But, then, at the moment his friend was focusing all of his attentions on his scheme to catch his great-uncle’s murderer. And when Arthur concentrated on a venture, it consumed him until it was completed.

Such intense single-mindedness could be a decidedly irksome trait at times, Bennett thought. But he was forced to admit that it was likely the reason why Arthur had, in the matter of only a few years, managed to rebuild the once-depleted St. Merryn fortunes to their current very high level.

Although he knew that Arthur was not interested in hearing any warnings about Roland Burnley, Bennett felt obliged to deliver another one.

“Rumor has it that Burnley’s financial situation has deteriorated to a very low point,” he said, trying to ease into the subject from another angle. “He is trying to recoup his gaming losses in the hells.”

“If he has resorted to gambling to provide an income, his financial status will only decline further.”

“No doubt.” Bennett leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I do not like what I see in his face when the two of you are in the same room.”

“Then do not look at his expression.”

Bennett sighed. “Very well, but I advise you to guard your back.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

Bennett shook his head. “I do not know why I bother.”

“I apologize if I do not seem to be suitably grateful. The thing is, I have other matters on my mind at the moment. I am about to proceed to the next step of my plan.”

Once Arthur set one of his convoluted schemes in motion, there was no known force that could halt it, Bennett reminded himself. Usually his friend’s elaborate machinations concerned financial investments. But occasionally he applied his talents toward other types of strategies, invariably with the same degree of success. A smart man did not get between Arthur and his goal, whatever it happened to be.

“The word has gone out that your mysterious new fiancée is in town to enjoy the pleasures of the Season for a few weeks,” Bennett said. “There is a good deal of speculation about her, of course. As you instructed, I let it be known in certain quarters that she is from a wealthy, landholding family in the North.”

“There are no rumors going around to the effect that I obtained her from an agency?”

“Of course not,” Bennett snorted. “Everyone remembers the vow you made last year, naturally, but they all assumed at the time that it was a great joke. No one believed then and no one believes now that a man in your position would actually go through with such a nonsensical notion.”

“Excellent. Then all is going according to my plan in that direction.”

“I still cannot believe that you intend to use a paid companion to aid you in this bizarre scheme.” Bennett frowned. “What is she like?”

“You will meet Miss Lodge soon enough.” Arthur lowered the paper, smiling a little with satisfaction. “She is quite intelligent, and she has been out in the world long enough to have acquired some useful experience.”

“I see,” Bennett murmured. In other words, Miss Lodge was no blushing virgin.

“She is rather striking in her looks,” Arthur continued, warming to his topic. “Extremely self-possessed. She has a certain air of authority that will cause people to think twice before they ask impertinent questions. In addition, her grandmother was an actress. I am hoping that the talent runs in the blood. All in all, she is quite perfect.”

Hell’s teeth, Bennett thought, stunned by the long list of Miss Lodge’s accomplishments, which had rolled so freely off Arthur’s tongue. What was going on here? He had not heard his friend speak this enthusiastically about any woman in years. No, that was not right. He was quite certain that in the entire time he had known him, he had
never
heard Arthur speak of any lady with such glowing approval.

Of course, Bennett thought, Arthur, with his unusual perspective on such things, was the only man he knew who would view such qualities as worldly
experience
and a
talent for acting
as desirable attributes in a well-bred lady. Any other man would consider them more suited to a courtesan or a lover.

“Just the woman you were looking for,” Bennett muttered.

“Indeed.”

Bennett tapped his fingers together twice. “I still say that you should tell her what this is all about.”

“Absolutely not. The less she knows, the less chance that she might inadvertently allow the truth to slip out at the wrong moment.”

“I understand your concerns, but I do not think that it is fair to keep her in the dark.” Bennett paused a beat before firing his last, most convincing argument. “Furthermore, have you considered that if you were to tell her the entire tale she might be able to assist you in your inquiries?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “That is the very last thing I want. It is none of her affair.”

“I can see it is no use arguing the point with you.” Bennett exhaled deeply. “Did your chaperone arrive?”

“Yes.” Arthur stretched out his legs and rested his arms on the sides of the chair. “To tell you the truth I had a moment or two of doubt about Margaret this afternoon.”

“Thought you said she was the only one of your female relatives you could tolerate having under your roof for an extended period of time.”

“She is. But when I told her that I expected her to handle all of the arcane matters associated with introducing my fiancée into Society, I could see that she knew nothing about the business. Indeed, I am quite certain that I saw outright panic in her eyes.”

“That is hardly surprising. You did tell me that other than a brief Season several years ago, Mrs. Lancaster has never lived in town.”

“True.” Arthur grimaced. “I suppose I just assumed a lady who had been married for fourteen years would know how to handle that sort of thing. But today I realized immediately that it is Margaret who is the innocent from the country, not Miss Lodge.”

Bennett frowned, thinking of the elaborate preparations his long-dead wife had made before every ball and soirée. “You will need someone who can deal with all the details,” he warned. “A fashionable lady must have the right gowns, gloves, dancing slippers and such. She must have a hairdresser or a maid who can manage her headdress. She must shop at the most stylish shops.”

“I am aware of that.”

“See here, Arthur, if Mrs. Lancaster is not capable of organizing the venture, you must find another relative who can handle it. Otherwise you will be facing a social disaster. Trust me on this matter. I have some experience, if you will recall.”

“There is no need to bring anyone else into this affair.” Arthur looked quietly pleased. “Margaret will remain because I must have another woman in the household for propriety’s sake. I know who is who in the ton, thanks to my business dealings, so I will select the invitations that I want Miss Lodge to accept. You will escort the pair to the first couple of affairs and introduce my fiancée to a few of the right people. I do not want her to become a complete wallflower.”

“Yes, well, I will be happy to do my best with the introductions, but what of the clothes, man? I promise you that is a very crucial aspect of this thing.”

Arthur shrugged. “I’m sure Miss Lodge can handle the clothes.”

Such unshakable confidence in another person, let alone in a lady, was most unlike Arthur, Bennett thought, intrigued. When it came to carrying out his labyrinthine schemes, he rarely reposed such complete confidence in anyone, male or female.

Bennett counted himself one of those few whom Arthur did trust, and now, it seemed, Miss Lodge had been added to that very short list. How interesting.

“Well, what of the social aspect?” Bennett persisted. “You know how treacherous the waters are in a fashionable ballroom. If Miss Lodge is seen talking to the wrong person, it will destroy the impression that you are trying to make. It will be worse yet if she dances with the wrong man or goes out into the gardens with him. Very young ladies are protected by their mamas or a skilled chaperone, but from what you’ve told me, Miss Lodge will have no one to hover over her.”

“That is not quite correct, Bennett.” Arthur smiled slightly. “I intend that she will have you to hover over her.”

Bennett uttered a heartfelt groan and closed his eyes. “I was afraid that you were going to say something like that.”

9

The following morning Elenora surveyed her bedchamber, her hands on her hips, one toe tapping.

The dark, somber furnishings included an ornately carved wardrobe, a massive, heavily draped bed and a dark, dingy carpet. The wallpaper was from an earlier era when lush, exotic patterns had been the height of fashion. Unfortunately the colors had faded to the point where it was impossible to make out the twining vines and flowers.

The degree of cleanliness in this room was of a piece with what she had seen throughout the mansion. Only a minimum of dusting, sweeping and polishing had been done. There was a thick layer of grime on the frame of the octagonal mirror and on the headboard. The cloudy view through the window was evidence that no one had washed the panes in recent memory.

If she was going to be living here for the next few weeks she would have to do something about the deplorable condition of the household, she decided.

Opening the door, she let herself out into the gloomy hail. She was not looking forward to breakfast. The evening meal the night before had consisted of tasteless stewed chicken, dumplings that could have served as ballast for a ship, vegetables cooked to an unwholesome shade of gray and a boiled suet pudding.

She and Margaret had dined alone together in the somber dining room. Arthur had had the good sense to take himself off to his club. She did not blame him. She would have preferred to dine elsewhere, also.

She descended the stairs, noting the dust that had collected between the balusters, and went in search of the breakfast room. She wandered into two closed, curtained chambers filled with draped furniture before she chanced upon Ned.

“Good morning,” she said. “Will you kindly direct me to the breakfast room?”

Ned looked baffled. “I think it’s somewhere at the end of the hall, ma’am.”

She raised her brows. “You don’t know where the breakfast room is located?”