Page 69 of The Paid Companion

“Damnation. Heintendedfor you to be confused. The similarity in costumes cannot have been a coincidence.”

She considered that briefly and shook her head. “I disagree. It could most certainly have been a coincidence. There were any number of gentlemen at the ball who wore very similar cloaks and masks.”

“Did you mistake any other man for me this evening?”

She smiled ruefully at that insightful question. “No, as a matter of fact, I did not. Just the man in the ripped domino and only for a short time.”

“How could you be certain that it was not me?”

She thought she heard an odd mix of curiosity and suspicion in his words, as if he was asking another question entirely.Would you really know me in a dark and crowded room? No one knows me that well...

I do,she thought. But she could hardly say that.

She pondered what she could tell him that would sound logical. She certainly could not explain that the killer’s scent had not been anything like his own. Such a remark would be far too personal, too intimate. It would reveal just how very aware of him she was.

“He was not the same height,” she said instead. “I have danced with you, sir. Your shoulder is somewhat above his.” She could rest her head on Arthur’s shoulder, she thought wistfully. “And rather more broad.” Arthur’s shoulders were sleekly muscled and very inviting. “Also, his fingers were longer than yours.”

Arthur’s expression darkened. “You noticed his fingers?”

“Indeed, sir. A woman is generally very much aware of a gentleman’s hands when he touches her. Is the reverse not true for a man?”

He made a noncommittal response that sounded like “Huh.”

“Oh, and there were two other things I noticed,” she continued. “He wore a ring on his left hand and a pair of Hessians.”

“Like a thousand other men in town,” he muttered. Then he glanced back at her, one black brow arched. “You noticed his boots, also?”

“As soon as I realized that he was not you, I became curious about his identity.” She looked into the fire. “Whoever he was, he was definitely not an elderly man. He danced with a fashionable ease about his movements. There was no stiffness or hesitation in him. I can assure you he was not of your great-uncle’s generation.”

“That is a very useful piece of information,” he said slowly. “I shall have to give it some close thought. Did you happen to note anything else?”

“It is difficult to explain, but at the time I sensed that there was something odd about his manner. He appeared to be in the grip of an unwholesome excitement.”

“He had just come from killing a man.” Arthur stopped in front of the window and looked out at the moonlit garden. “The horrid thrill of his deed was no doubt still upon him, riding him hard. So he sought you out and danced with you.”

“It seems quite bizarre, does it not?” She shivered. “One would think that after committing murder, one would want to go directly home and take a hot bath, not go to a ball and dance.”

“He did not go to the Fambridge ball to dance with just any woman,” Arthur said evenly. “He went there to waltz with you.”

She shivered. “I must admit it did appear that he deliberately sought me out. But I cannot understand why he would do such a thing.”

“I can.”

She turned her head very quickly, astonished by his bleak statement. “You comprehend his motive?”

“Tonight he no doubt learned from Ibbitts that I am hunting him. In his arrogance, he decided to celebrate what he perceived to be a triumph over me.”

She pursed her lips. “Mayhap you are right, sir, but that does not explain why he danced with me.”

Arthur turned to face her. She almost stopped breathing when she saw the savage anger that blazed in his eyes.

“Do you not understand?” he said. “There is a very ancient, very foul tradition among men who wage war against each other. More often than not, the winners seek to proclaim their victories by taking possession of their opponents’ women.”

“Possession? Sir, you speak of rape.” She leaped to her feet. “I assure you, it was only a dance.”

“And I assure you, Miss Lodge, that in the villain’s mind that dance was symbolic of another act entirely.”

“That is ridiculous,” she began stoutly. Then she recalled how much she had disliked the feel of the stranger’s hand on her waist. She took a deep breath. “Regardless of how he viewed the situation, from my perspective, it was nothing more than a short waltz with an unpleasant partner.”

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