Page 7 of The Paid Companion

The two stared at him as though he had taken leave of his senses.

Mrs. Willis recovered first. “This is a respectable agency, sir. We do not have anyunsuitablefemales in our files,” she said in her razor-edged voice. “Our ladies are all guaranteed to possess reputations that are entirely above reproach. Their references are impeccable.”

“Perhaps you would do well to try another agency,” Mrs. Goodhew suggested in quelling tones.

“I don’t have time to go to another agency.” He could not believe that his carefully calculated scheme was about to fall apart simply because he could not find the right female. He had assumed that this would be the simplest, most straightforward part of the plan. Instead, it was proving to be astonishingly complicated. “I told you, I must fill this post immediately—”

The door slammed open behind him with resounding force, effectively putting an end to his sentence.

Together with Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis, he turned to look at the woman who blew into the office with the force of a small storm off the sea.

He saw at once that she had, possibly by accident although he suspected more likely by design, tried to distract attention from her striking features. A pair of gold-framed spectacles partially veiled her vivid amber-gold eyes. Her glossy, midnight-dark hair was pulled back in a remarkably severe style that would have looked more appropriate on a housekeeper or maid.

She wore a serviceable gown of some heavy, dull material in a peculiarly unattractive shade of gray. The garment looked as though it had been deliberately fashioned to make its wearer appear shorter and heavier than she actually was.

The connoisseurs of the ton and the obnoxious dandies who loitered about on Bond Street ogling the ladies would no doubt have dismissed this woman out of hand. But they were fools who did not know how to look beneath the surface, Arthur thought.

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.”

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