Page 70 of The Paid Companion

“I know. But your opinion is rather beside the point.”

“I disagree,” she said fiercely.

He acted as if he had not heard her. “I must concoct another plan.”

She could tell that he was already formulating his new strategy. “Very well. What shall we do, sir?”

“You will do nothing, Elenora, except go up to your room to pack. Your employment in this household ends tonight. I will send your wages to you.”

“What?” Outraged, she stared at him. “You are letting me go?”

“Yes. I intend to send you away to one of my estates until this affair is ended.”

Raw panic jolted through her. She was not going back to the country. Her new life was here in London. Whatever happened, she would not allow herself to be packed off to some remote village estate where she would have to cool her heels for heaven knew how long.

But getting hysterical would only make matters worse, she told herself. This was Arthur. Logic worked best with him.

She fought to keep her voice even and controlled. “You intend to send me away merely because the villain danced with me?”

“I told you, to him it was more than a dance.”

She flushed. “For heaven’s sake, sir, it is not as though he forced himself upon me.”

“What he did,” Arthur said in a startlingly rough voice, “was demonstrate that he sees you as a pawn in this game that he is playing with me. I will not permit him to use you in any way.”

She must make allowances for his rigid manner, she told herself. After all, he was attempting to protect her.

“I appreciate what you are trying to do,” she said, striving to maintain her patience, “but it is much too late. I am involved in this affair, whether you like it or not. My lord, I fear that you are not thinking with your customary clarity.”

He watched her very steadily. “Indeed?”

At least she had his attention, she thought. “Sir, you are obviously deeply concerned about my safety. That is very gallant of you. But what makes you think that the villain will forget about me if you send me away to rusticate in the country?”

“Once he understands that I have changed my strategy, he will lose interest in you.”

“I do not think that you can depend upon that outcome. Have you considered the possibility that the killer may well decide that I possess even more valuable information about you and your schemes than Ibbitts did?”

There was a short, shattering silence. She saw the grim comprehension on Arthur’s face and knew that he could not deny her logic.

“I will provide you with an armed guard,” he said.

“You could do that, but it would not necessarily stop the villain. He moves freely in Society. What am I to do? Avoid all gentlemen? And for how long? Weeks? Months? You cannot keep me under guard indefinitely. No, I am better off here with you, helping you find the killer.”

“Damnation, Elenora—”

“And what of Margaret? If I am no longer conveniently at hand, the killer may well try to use her instead. After all, she is not only a member of this household but a member of your family. Removing me from the game may make her the villain’s next target.”

“Damnation,” he said again, very softly this time. “You are correct. I have not been thinking clearly.”

“Only because you have been under a great deal of stress this evening,” she assured him. “You must not be too hard on yourself. Walking in on the scene of a murder would have a nasty effect on anyone’s reasoning processes.”

His mouth curved in a strange smile. “Yes, of course. I should have realized that was the source of my poor logic tonight.”

“Do not concern yourself,” she said, trying to sound bracing. “I’m certain that your customary powers of reason will return soon.”

“I can only hope that is the case.”

She did not trust that tone, she thought.

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