Page 3 of The Paid Companion

“Your staff will stay on,” he said. “We’ve already arranged for the sale of the property, and the new owner made it clear that he wants everything to stay just as it is.”

“With the exception of yourself, of course, Miss Lodge.” The second creditor bobbed his head with a wise air. “The new owner won’t be needing you.”

Some of Elenora’s tension eased. The people who worked for her were safe. She could turn her attention to her own future.

“I assume you will allow me time to pack my clothes,” she said coldly.

Neither of the two creditors appeared to hear the acute disdain that laced her tones. One of them hauled a watch out of his pocket.

“You have thirty minutes, Miss Lodge.” He nodded at the big man from Bow Street. “Mr. Hitchins will remain with you at all times while you pack, to make sure that you don’t steal any of the silver. When you’re ready to leave, one of the farmers will take you into the village and leave you at the inn. What you do after that is up to you.”

Elenora turned with as much dignity as she could muster and found herself confronted with her sobbing housekeeper and the distraught maid.

Her own head was whirling in the face of the disaster, but she knew that she had to maintain her composure in front of these two. She gave them both what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Calm yourselves,” she said briskly. “As you just heard, you are to remain in your posts, and the men will keep their positions as well.”

The housekeeper and the maid stopped crying and lowered their handkerchiefs. Both went limp with relief.

“Thank you, Miss Elenora,” the housekeeper whispered.

Elenora patted her shoulder and hastened toward the stairs. She tried to ignore the mean-looking Runner who stalked behind her every step of the way.

Hitchins stood just inside the opening of her bedchamber, hands clasped behind his back, feet braced, and watched as she hauled a large trunk out from under the bed.

She wondered what he would say if she were to inform him that he was the only man who had ever set foot in her bedchamber.

“This was my grandmother’s traveling trunk,” she told him instead, throwing open the lid to reveal the empty interior. “She was an actress. Her stage name was Agatha Knight. When she married my grandfather, there was a terrible uproar in the family. Such a scandal. My great-grandparents threatened to disown my grandfather. But in the end they were forced to accept the situation. You know how it is with families.”

Hitchins grunted. Either he did not have any experience with a family or else he found her personal history extremely dull. She suspected the latter.

In spite of Hitchins’s lack of conversation, she continued to chatter nonstop while she dragged her clothes out of the wardrobe. Her goal was to distract him. She did not want him to become curious about the old trunk.

“My poor mother was mortified by the fact that her mother had gone on stage. She spent her entire life trying to live down Grandmother’s notorious career.”

Hitchins checked his watch. “Ye’ve got ten minutes left.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hitchins.” She gave him a steely smile. “You’re being very helpful.”

The Runner proved to be inured to sarcasm. He no doubt experienced a lot of it in his profession.

Elenora yanked open a drawer and took out a pile of neatly folded linen. “You might want to avert your eyes, sir.”

Hitchins had the grace not to stare at her chemise and nightgown. But when she reached for the small clock on the bedside table, his thin mouth tightened.

“Ye’re not to take anything except your personal clothing, Miss Lodge,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes, of course.” So much for sneaking in the clock. Pity. It might have been worth a few pounds to a pawn dealer. “How could I have forgotten?”

She slammed the lid down and locked it quickly, a chill of relief shooting down her spine. The Runner had not shown the least bit of interest in her grandmother’s old theater trunk.

“I am told that I look just like her when she was my age,” she said in conversational tones.

“Who would that be, Miss Lodge?”

“My grandmother, the actress.”

“Is that a fact.” Hitchins shrugged. “Ready, are ye?”

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