Page 79 of The Paid Companion

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.”

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