The Paid Companion

  He watched the purposeful yet graceful way in which she moved. There was nothing timid or hesitant about her. Lively intelligence glittered in her exotic eyes. Spirit and determination radiated from her.

  In an attempt to maintain his objectivity, he concluded that the lady lacked the sort of smooth, superficial perfection that would have caused the men of the ton to hail her as a diamond of the first water. Nevertheless, there was about her something that drew the eye, an energy and vitality that created an invisible aura. In the right clothes she would not go unnoticed in a ballroom.

  “Miss Lodge, please, you cannot go in there.” The harried-looking woman who occupied the desk in the outer office hovered uncertainly in the opening. “I told you, Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis are discussing a very important matter with a client.”

  “I do not care if they are discussing their wills or their funeral arrangements, Mrs. McNab. I intend to speak with them immediately. I have had quite enough of this nonsense.”

  Miss Lodge came to a halt in front of the twin desks. Arthur knew that she had not noticed him standing behind her in the shadows. The thick fog outside the windows was, in part, responsible. The mist allowed only a vague, gray light into the office. What little illumination there was did not penetrate far.

  Mrs. Willis heaved a long-suffering sigh and assumed an expression that implied she was resigned to some inevitable fate.

  Mrs. Goodhew, obviously made of sterner stuff, surged to her feet. “What in heaven’s name do you think you are doing interrupting us in this outrageous manner, Miss Lodge?”

  “I am correcting what appears to be the mistaken impression that I am seeking a post in the household of a drunkard, or a lecherous rakehell.” Miss Lodge narrowed her gaze. “Let us be clear about this. I am in need of an immediate position. I cannot afford to waste any more time interviewing employers who are obviously unacceptable.”

  “We will discuss this later, Miss Lodge,” Mrs. Goodhew snapped.

  “We will discuss it now. I have just come from the appointment you arranged for me this afternoon, and I can assure you that I would not take that post if it were the very last position you had to offer.”

  Mrs. Goodhew smiled with what could only be described as cold triumph. “As it happens, Miss Lodge, it is, indeed, the very last post that this agency intends to make available to you.”

  Miss Lodge frowned. “Don’t be absurd. As annoying as this process is for all concerned and most especially for me, I fear we must press on.”

  Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis exchanged glances. Mrs. Goodhew turned back to Miss Lodge.

  “On the contrary,” she said icily. “I see no point in sending you out on even one more interview.”

  “Haven’t you been paying attention, Mrs. Goodhew?” Miss Lodge snapped. “I told you, I am in need of a new position immediately. My current employer will be leaving town the day after tomorrow to join her friend in the country. She has graciously consented to allow me to stay with her until she departs, but after that I will be obliged to find new lodgings. Lodgings which, due to the extremely poor wages I have been paid for the past few months, I cannot afford at the moment.”

  Mrs. Willis shook her head with what appeared to be sincere regret. “We have done our best to secure another post for you, Miss Lodge. You have had five interviews with five different clients in the past three days, but you have failed at each attempt.”

  “I am not the one who failed those interviews. The prospective employers failed them.” Miss Lodge raised one gloved hand and began to tick off her fingers as she continued. “Mrs. Tibbett was well into her cups when I arrived, and she continued to nip at her bottle of gin until she toppled over and fell sound asleep on the sofa. Why she seeks a paid companion is beyond me. She was unable to carry on a coherent conversation.”

  “That is quite enough, Miss Lodge,” Mrs. Goodhew said through set teeth.

  “Mrs. Oxby said nothing during the entire interview. Instead she allowed her son to conduct the proceedings.” Miss Lodge shuddered. “It was obvious that he is one of those dreadful men who inflicts himself upon the weak and helpless females in his own household. The situation was impossible. I have no intention of living under the same roof with such a despicable man.”

  “Miss Lodge, if you please.” Mrs. Goodhew seized a paperweight and thumped the top of her desk.

  Miss Lodge ignored her. “And then there was Mrs. Stanbridge, who was so ill that she was forced to conduct the interview from her bed. It was clear to me that she will not survive the fortnight. Her relatives are dealing with her affairs. They cannot wait for her to cock up her toes so that they can get their hands on her money. I could see immediately that it would have been highly unlikely that I would have been able to collect my fees from them.”

  Mrs. Goodhew drew herself up to her full height and bristled. “It is not the prospective employers who are to blame for your predicament, Miss Lodge. You are the one who is responsible for your failure to secure new employment.”

  “Nonsense. I had no difficulty whatsoever in obtaining a suitable position six months ago when I first applied to this firm.”

  “Mrs. Willis and I have concluded that that bit of luck came about solely because of the fact that your first employer happened to be a noted eccentric who, for some incomprehensible reason, found you amusing,” Mrs. Goodhew declared.

  “Unfortunately for you, Miss Lodge,” Mrs. Willis added with ghoulish good cheer, “our list of clients is quite short of eccentrics at the moment. Generally speaking, we do not cater to that type of client.”

  It occurred to Arthur that the tension in the room had escalated to the point where the three women had forgotten that he was there.

  Miss Lodge flushed an angry shade of pink. “Mrs. Egan is not an eccentric. She is an intelligent, well-traveled woman who holds enlightened views on a vast number of subjects.”

  “Twenty years ago she had a string of lovers that was said to include half the ton, both male and female,” Mrs. Goodhew shot back. “She is rumored to be a devoted follower of Wollstonecraft’s odd notions regarding female behavior, she refuses to eat meat, she is a student of metaphysics and everyone knows that she once traveled all the way to Egypt and back with only two servants for company.”

  “Furthermore, it is a well-known fact that she will only wear garments made of purple cloth,” Mrs. Willis announced. “Rest assured, Miss Lodge, eccentric is the most polite label we can apply to your current employer.”

  “That is grossly unfair.” Miss Lodge’s eyes sparkled with outrage. “Mrs. Egan is an estimable employer. I will not allow you to slander her.”

  Arthur found himself both amused and strangely entranced by her loyalty to her soon-to-be-former employer.

  Mrs. Goodhew snorted. “We are not here to discuss Mrs. Egan’s personal qualities, however estimable you may deem them to be. The fact is, there really is nothing more that we can do for you, Miss Lodge.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment,” Miss Lodge said.

  Mrs. Willis beetled her brows. “How do you expect us to find a place for you, Miss Lodge, when you have steadfastly refused to adopt the appropriate demeanor required of a successful paid companion? We have explained time and again that meekness, humility and quiet, restrained speech are imperative.”

  “Bah, I have been meek and humble to a fault.” Miss Lodge appeared sincerely affronted by the criticism. “And as for quiet speech, I challenge either of you to prove that my conversation has been anything but quiet and restrained.”

  Mrs. Willis raised her eyes to the ceiling, evidently seeking help from a higher power.

  Mrs. Goodhew snorted. “Your notion of appropriate behavior differs markedly from that of this agency. We are unable to do anything more for you, Miss Lodge.”

  Arthur noticed that Miss Lodge was starting to look worried now. Her firm, elegant jaw tightened visibly. He could see that she was about to change tactics.

  “Let us not be too h
asty here,” she said smoothly. “I am certain there must be other potential employers in your files.” She gave both women a sudden, brilliant smile that could have lit up an entire ballroom. “If you will allow me to look through them, I can no doubt save all of us a good deal of time.”

  “Let you examine our client files?” Mrs. Willis flinched as though she had touched an electricity machine. “Out of the question. Those files are confidential.”

  “Calm yourself,” Miss Lodge said. “I have no intention of gossiping about your clients. I merely wish to peruse the files so that I may make an informed decision concerning my future employment.”

  Mrs. Willis squinted at her down the long length of her sharp nose. “You do not seem to grasp the salient point here, Miss Lodge. It is the client who makes the decision when it comes to filling the post, not the applicant.”

  “On the contrary.” Miss Lodge took a step closer to Mrs. Willis’s desk, leaned over slightly and flattened her gloved hands on the polished surface. “It is you who fail to comprehend. I cannot afford to fritter away any more time on this project. Allowing me to examine the files seems an entirely sensible approach to the problem we face.”

  “We do not face a problem, Miss Lodge.” Mrs. Goodhew raised her brows. “You face one. I fear that from now on, you must face it somewhere else.”

  “That is quite impossible,” Miss Lodge looked at her. “I have already explained that there is not enough time left for me to apply to another agency. I must have a position before Mrs. Egan departs for the country.”

  Arthur made his decision. “Perhaps you would care to consider one more offer of employment from this agency, Miss Lodge.”

  3

  The sound of his voice, dark, chilled, controlled and seemingly emanating from the gloom behind her, unnerved Elenora to such a degree that she very nearly dropped her reticule.

  She whirled around with a tiny, stifled gasp. For a few disturbing seconds she could not make him out clearly, but she knew instantly that whoever he was, he could well prove dangerous. An oddly exhilarating thrill of anticipation swept through her.

  Hastily, she tried to shake off the sensation. She had never reacted like this to any man. It was no doubt a trick of the poor light. The fog had closed in very snugly around the windows, and the two small lamps on the desks of Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis created more shadows than they dispelled.

  Then she realized that she was still wearing the spectacles she had borrowed from Mrs. Egan to enhance her appearance as a proper companion for today’s interviews. She reached up very quickly, plucked the eyeglasses from her nose and blinked a couple of times to refocus her vision.

  She could see the man in the shadows quite clearly now, but that did not do much to alter her initial impression. If anything it only heightened her feelings of wariness and excitement.

  “Dear me,” Mrs. Willis said quickly. “I had quite forgotten you were standing there, sir. I beg your pardon. Allow me to introduce Miss Elenora Lodge. Miss Lodge, the Earl of St. Merryn.”

  St. Merryn inclined his head ever so slightly. “A pleasure, Miss Lodge.”

  No one would ever label him handsome, Elenora thought. The power, control and harsh intelligence that stamped his features left no room for elegance, refinement or traditional masculine beauty.

  His hair was a deep shade of brown. Unfathomable smoky green eyes watched her from some concealed lair deep inside. He had the bold nose, high cheekbones and distinctive jaw that one associated with creatures that survived on their hunting skills.

  She realized with a start that she was allowing her imagination to get the better of her. It had been a very long day.

  She pulled herself together and made her curtsy. “My lord.”

  “It would seem that we might be of service to each other, Miss Lodge,” he said. His gaze never wavered from her face. “You are in need of a position. I have a distant relative, the widow of a cousin on my father’s side, who is staying with me for the Season. I require a companion for her. I am prepared to pay you triple your usual fees.”

  Triple her usual fees. She was suddenly a little breathless. Steady now, she thought. Whatever else she did, she must maintain an air of dignified calm. She had a feeling that if St. Merryn detected any indication that she suffered from delicate or easily excitable nerves, he would withdraw his offer.

  Raising her chin, she gave him what she hoped was a coolly polite smile. “I am prepared to discuss the position, sir.”

  She heard Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis murmur between themselves, but she paid no attention. She was too busy watching the satisfaction that glittered briefly in the earl’s enigmatic eyes.

  “There is a bit more to the post than the duties that are generally expected of a paid companion,” St. Merryn said very deliberately.

  She recalled the old adage about things sounding too good to be true and steeled herself.

  “For some reason, I am not surprised to hear that,” she said dryly. “Perhaps you would be so good as to explain?”

  “Of course.” St. Merryn switched his attention to Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis. “I would prefer to have this conversation in private with Miss Lodge, if you two ladies do not mind.” He paused a beat and smiled faintly. “The situation involves a family matter. I’m sure you comprehend.”

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Goodhew said. She seemed relieved to have the excuse to exit the room. “Mrs. Willis?”

  Mrs. Willis was already on her feet. “After you, Mrs. Goodhew.”

  The two women stepped smartly around their desks and crossed the room. They closed the door very firmly behind them.

  A heavy silence descended. Elenora did not like the feel of impending dread that accompanied it.

  Some of her initial excitement faded. It was replaced with wariness. Her palms tingled with a strange chill. She sensed the weight of the heavy fog pressing at the windows. It was so thick that she could not see the buildings across the narrow street. Was it just her imagination that made the room seem suddenly very small and intensely intimate?

  St. Merryn walked deliberately across the office and came to a halt in front of one of the windows. He meditated for a while on the featureless mist that shrouded the narrow street. She knew that he was debating just how much to tell her.

  “I may as well come straight out with it, Miss Lodge,” he said after a moment. “What I told Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis was not the full truth. I am not in need of a companion for my relative, although she is, indeed, staying in my house.”

  “I see. What do you require, sir?”

  “A fiancée.”

  Elenora closed her eyes in despair. Just when she had begun to believe that the nature of the potential employers in the files of Goodhew & Willis could not get any worse, she was confronted with a madman.

  “Miss Lodge?” St. Merryn’s voice cracked like a whip across the room. “Are you all right?”

  Jolted, she opened her eyes and summoned what she hoped was a soothing smile. “Of course, my lord. I am perfectly all right. Now then, perhaps there is someone who should be summoned?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “A family member or a personal servant, perhaps?” She hesitated delicately. “Or an attendant?”

  The poor sent their insane relatives to the horrors of the hospital known as Bedlam. But among the wealthy, it was customary to secure an afflicted family member in a private asylum. She wondered when St. Merryn had escaped and whether anyone had noticed yet that he was missing from his locked cell.

  “An attendant?” St. Merryn’s expression hardened. “What the devil are you talking about?”

  “It is rather bleak and gloomy outside, is it not?” she said gently. “One can easily become lost in a fog like this.” Especially if one’s mind is also filled with strange vapors and visions, she added silently. “But I’m certain that there is someone who will come and guide you home. If you could just let Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis know where to send a message . . .”


  Understanding and then icy amusement lit St. Merryn’s eyes. “You think I’m mad, don’t you?”

  “No such thing, my lord. I was merely trying to be helpful.” She took a cautious step back toward the door. “But if there should happen to be a tiny problem here, I am confident that Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis will be able to deal with it.”

  Concluding that it would not be wise to turn her back on a lunatic, she groped awkwardly behind herself, searching for the doorknob.

  “No doubt.” His smile was wry and fleeting. “I’ll wager those two are capable of dealing with just about anything, including a deranged client. But, as it happens, Miss Lodge, I am not mad.” He shrugged. “At least, I do not believe that I am. If you will take your hand off that doorknob, I will attempt to explain.”

  She did not move.

  He raised his brows slightly. “I promise you, I will make it worth your while.”

  “In the financial sense?”

  His mouth tilted a little at one corner. “Is there any other sense?”

  Not as far as she was concerned, she thought. In her current predicament, she could not afford to overlook any reasonable offer of employment. The shimmering dream of a new future for herself that she had created out of thin air that long, lonely night six months before, had proved far more difficult to achieve in real life than she had ever imagined. Money was the sticking point. She needed this post.

  St. Merryn might be mad, but he did not appear to be a depraved rakehell or a drunkard as had been the case with two of her potential employers that afternoon.

  In point of fact, she thought, he was starting to sound more and more like a man who understood how to conduct a business negotiation. She admired that quality in a gentleman.

  And he was most certainly not on his deathbed, either, as the third potential client that day had been. Quite the contrary, there was a disconcerting, intensely intriguing air of masculine vitality about him that stirred her in a way she could not describe. He was not handsome, at least not in the manner in which Jeremy Clyde had been. But the whispers of awareness lifting the little hairs on the nape of her neck were oddly stimulating.