Page 27 of The Paid Companion

E lenora delayed going downstairs the next morning until she could no longer stand the pangs of hunger. Even then she hesitated and considered requesting that a tray be brought to her bedchamber.

But in the end, she opened the door and marched determinedly out into the hall. Eating in her room in order to avoid having to confront Arthur would have been cowardly in the extreme.

She was surprised to find herself feeling quite fit. She had expected to spend a restless night, but to her amazement she had slept soundly. That was fortunate, she told herself as she reached the bottom of the staircase. At least her eyes were not puffy and red and her skin was not dull from lack of proper sleep.

She had selected a green muslin gown and a white ruff to wear for this first encounter with Arthur. She felt that the vivid color made her appear somehow more confident and sure of herself.

She needed every ounce of self-possession she could muster. What did one say to a gentleman the morning after making mad, passionate love to him in his library?

“Good morning, ma’am.” Ned loomed in the hall, looking concerned. “I was just about to send the new maid upstairs to see if you wanted to take your meal in your bedchamber.”

“Very thoughtful of you, Ned, but I only take breakfast in bed when I am feeling ill. And I am almost never ill.”

“Yes, ma’am. Breakfast is in the breakfast room, just as ye directed, ma’am. Sally and her sister finished getting it ready yesterday afternoon.”

“Excellent.” She gave him a blazing smile, took a fortifying breath, and swept on down the hall and into the breakfast room.

In spite of her concerns about having to deal with Arthur, she took a few seconds to enjoy the changes that had taken place in this space.

The breakfast room had been cleaned and polished until it glowed. Enticing odors wafted from the silver serving trays on the sideboard. Warm spring sunlight poured in through the windows. The view of the gardens was somewhat marred by the fact that the foliage was still overgrown and unkempt, but that would soon change. The new gardeners were due to start work today.

She was startled to find that Arthur was not alone at the table. Margaret was with him.

“Oh, there you are,” Margaret said. “I was worried about you. I was just about to send someone upstairs to see if you were feeling well this morning.”

Conscious of Arthur watching her with what appeared to be amusement, Elenora tried not to blush.

“As I just told Ned, I enjoy excellent health,” she said.

Arthur got politely to his feet and pulled out a chair. “We wondered if perhaps you had engaged in a bit too much exercise last night.”

She shot him her most repressive glare.

“On the dance floor,” he concluded with perfect innocence.

She searched his face very closely for a couple of heartbeats. Beneath the dry amusement she caught a glimpse of genuine concern. For heavens sake, had he really thought that she would find it necessary to take to her bed for a day in order to recover from the shock of his lovemaking? She was no frail flower.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sir.” Ignoring the chair he held for her, she picked up her plate and went to the sideboard to examine the offerings.

“Arthur is teasing you,” Margaret said quickly. “Of course I was not worried that you might have danced too much last night. I thought that perhaps the ghastly events of the evening had taken their toll, that’s all. Arthur and I were just talking about them. A dreadful business.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, I assure you.” Elenora studied the contents of the steaming trays.

“I suggest the fish,” Arthur said. “It is excellent.”

“And do try the eggs,” Margaret suggested. “I vow, Sally’s sister is an excellent cook.”

Elenora helped herself to a bit of everything and then turned to find that Arthur was still holding her chair.

She sat down. “Thank you, sir.”

He looked at the food heaped on her plate. “Obviously your appetite has not been affected by recent events.”

“Not in the least sir.”

He sat down across from her. “I was rather hungry myself this morning.”

She had had enough of innuendoes, she decided. She picked up her knife and buttered a slice of toast. “How do you plan to proceed in your inquiries today, sir?”

His expression turned serious. “What with all the excitement last night, I neglected to mention that I did obtain one interesting clue before we went to the scene of Ibbitts’s murder.”

Elenora lowered the toast. “What was it?”

“The name of the man who may have been Saturn. Evidently he died a few days ago. I intend to pay a call on his widow this morning.”

“That is very exciting news,” Elenora said, too elated by the clue to chastise him for having neglected to mention it earlier. “You must take me with you.”

He cocked a brow. “Why is that?”

“A bereaved widow may be hesitant to talk about private matters with a gentleman she does not know. Having another woman present will make her feel more comfortable.”

Arthur pondered that for a moment. “You may be right. Very well, we shall leave at eleven-thirty.”

Elenora relaxed slightly. Whatever else had changed between them, one thing had not been altered. Arthur was still treating her as a partner in this affair, one whose advice he valued. She would cling to that knowledge.

Margaret beamed. “On another topic, Arthur just told me that he knows that I write novels. Is that not astonishing? And to think that I was afraid that he would send me back to the country if he discovered the truth.”

Elenora met Arthur’s eyes across the table. She smiled. There was very little that would escape his notice when it came to those for whom he felt responsible.

“Somehow, I am not at all surprised to find out that he has been aware of your career all along, Margaret.”

F orty minutes later, she opened the door of her bedchamber and surveyed the hall. It was empty. She had heard Arthur return to his room a few minutes before, to dress for the visit to Glentworth’s widow. Margaret was hard at work on her manuscript, as usual at this hour.

That meant that there would be no one in the library.

She stepped out into the corridor and went quickly toward the linen closet. Her slippered feet made no sound on the carpet.

When she reached the closet, she glanced back along the hall one last time to make certain there was no one about to observe her actions. Then she let herself into the small, dark room and shut the door.

By touch she found the lever that opened the hidden panel and pulled it cautiously.

The bookcase slid back. She moved out onto the balcony and looked down to be sure that none of the servants had decided to dust the library at that moment. But as she had anticipated, she had the long chamber to herself.

Scooping up the skirts of her gown, she went swiftly down the spiral staircase and crossed the room to where she and Arthur had made love.

She searched the area anxiously, but there was no sign of her blue garter. It had to be here somewhere, she thought.

Last night she had not noticed it was missing until after Margaret had left. When she had realized that her left stocking was rolled down to her ankle she had assumed that the garter had come undone in the rush of getting out of her gown and into her wrapper. She had made a note to look for the missing item this morning in the daylight.

But a thorough search of her room a few minutes ago had not produced the garter. That was when she had realized that it had likely been lost in the library. A vision of Bennett Fleming having seen it and come to the obvious conclusion had induced a fit of near hysteria.

It was one thing to be a woman of the world, a lady of mystery and experience. It was quite another to have a very nice, very proper gentleman like Bennett Fleming discover one’s garter in a place where it had no business being found.

She allowed herself a sigh of relief when she saw that the blue garter was not anywhere in plain sight on the carpet. That meant that Bennet had probably not seen it the night before. Unfortunately, it did not rule out the possibility that one of the servants had come across it that morning.

She got down on her hands and knees to search under the sofa.

“Looking for this?” Arthur asked from somewhere above.

The sound of his voice gave her such a start that she rose too quickly. She narrowly avoided banging her head on the edge of a table.

She steadied herself and raised her eyes to the balcony where Arthur leaned casually on the railing. The blue garter dangled from the fingers of his right hand. He must have noticed her sneaking into the linen closet and followed her, she decided.

Irritated, she got to her feet.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, careful to keep her voice very low, “I was looking for it. You must have known that I would be concerned about where it was lost. You could have said something earlier and saved me a good deal of anxiety.”

“Don’t worry, I recovered it last night before Fleming noticed it.” Arthur tossed the garter negligently into the air and caught it just as easily. “He never guessed that you had had your wicked way with me only moments before he arrived.”

She made a face, gathered her skirts in both hands and started up the stairs. “Allow me to tell you, sir, that, on occasion, your sense of humor is decidedly skewed.”

“There are those who would tell you that I have no sense of humor at all, skewed or otherwise.”

“One can certainly understand how those persons arrived at that conclusion.” She came to a halt at the top of the staircase and held out her hand for the garter. “May I have that?”

“I think not.” He dropped the garter into his pocket. “I’ve decided to start a collection.”

She stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”

“Buy another set of garters and have the bill sent to me,” Arthur said.

He kissed her on the mouth before she could scold him. When he finally raised his head, she was breathless.

“On second thought, you had better buy several sets of garters.” He smiled with deep satisfaction. “I intend to create an extensive collection.”