Page 118 of The Paid Companion

Elenora put the last gown and a pair of slippers into the trunk and slowly lowered the top. She felt as though she was closing the lid of a coffin.

The wretched sense of loss that had been threatening to overwhelm her all afternoon grew stronger. She had to get out of here before she dissolved into a puddle of tears, she thought.

She heard the muffled clatter of a carriage stopping down in the street. The hackney that she had instructed Ned to summon had arrived. She heard the muted sound of the front hall door being opened. It closed again very quickly. Ned had no doubt gone outside to inform the driver that she would be down in a few minutes.

She turned slowly on her heel to take one last look around her bedchamber, telling herself that she did not want to forget any of her possessions. But her gaze went to the neatly made bed and lingered there.

All she could think about was the last night of passion with Arthur. She knew that she would carry those memories in her heart for the rest of her life.

She was vaguely aware of a man’s footsteps in the corridor outside the bedchamber. That would be Ned coming to collect her trunk and take it downstairs to the waiting hackney, she surmised.

Moisture shimmered in her eyes. She seized a handkerchief. She must not cry. Not yet, at any rate. The sight of her leaving in tears would greatly alarm Ned and Sally and the rest of the staff.

There was a single knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called, frantically dabbing at the incipient tears.

The door opened. She finished blotting her eyes and turned to face whoever stood there.

“Going somewhere?” Arthur asked quietly.

She could not seem to move. He loomed large in the opening, his hard face set in grim, unyielding lines, his eyes as dangerous as she had ever seen them. Her mouth went dry.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“I live here, remember?”

She flushed. “You’re home early.”

“I was obliged to alter my schedule of appointments for today when I received word that you were planning to run away.”

She sighed. “Margaret and Bennett told you?”

“They informed me that you were packing your bags and preparing to depart with no notice.” He folded his arms. “And here I thought we had some matters to discuss.”

“I felt it might be best if we concluded our business through your man-of-affairs,” she said softly.

“My man-of-affairs is very competent in most respects, but I doubt that he has had a great deal of experience conveying an offer of marriage.”

Her mouth fell open. She got it closed again only with great effort. “Oh, dear.” She could no longer hold back the tears. Frantically she blotted her eyes. “Oh, dear, I was afraid of this.”

“It is clear that I am doing something very wrong when it comes to my personal affairs,” Arthur said in a world-weary tone. “My fiancées all seem to want to run away from me.”

“I beg your pardon?”She lowered her handkerchief and glared at him. “How dare you imply that I am running away from you? I am not a frightened rabbit like Juliana, and well you know it.”

“I am very much aware that you are not Juliana.” He walked deliberately into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him. He angled a glance at the closed trunk. “But you do appear to be about to run away from me.”

She sniffed, wadded up the handkerchief in one hand, folded her arms beneath her breasts and hugged herself. “You know that this is an entirely different situation.”

“Oddly enough, from my perspective it does not appear to be that much different.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, that is a perfectly ridiculous thing to say.”

“Is it?” He came to a halt a short distance away. “You once told me that you thought I would make a very good husband. Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it.” She unfolded her arm and waved the crumpled handkerchief about. “But for some other woman, one whom you truly loved.”

“You are the woman I love. Will you marry me?”