Page 80 of The Paid Companion

He cocked a brow. “Why is that?”

“A bereaved widow may be hesitant to talk about private matters with a gentleman she does not know. Having another woman present will make her feel more comfortable.”

Arthur pondered that for a moment. “You may be right. Very well, we shall leave at eleven-thirty.”

Elenora relaxed slightly. Whatever else had changed between them, one thing had not been altered. Arthur was still treating her as a partner in this affair, one whose advice he valued. She would cling to that knowledge.

Margaret beamed. “On another topic, Arthur just told me that he knows that I write novels. Is that not astonishing? And to think that I was afraid that he would send me back to the country if he discovered the truth.”

Elenora met Arthur’s eyes across the table. She smiled. There was very little that would escape his notice when it came to those for whom he felt responsible.

“Somehow, I am not at all surprised to find out that he has been aware of your career all along, Margaret.”

Forty minutes later, she opened the door of her bedchamber and surveyed the hall. It was empty. She had heard Arthur return to his room a few minutes before, to dress for the visit to Glentworth’s widow. Margaret was hard at work on her manuscript, as usual at this hour.

That meant that there would be no one in the library.

She stepped out into the corridor and went quickly toward the linen closet. Her slippered feet made no sound on the carpet.

When she reached the closet, she glanced back along the hall one last time to make certain there was no one about to observe her actions. Then she let herself into the small, dark room and shut the door.

By touch she found the lever that opened the hidden panel and pulled it cautiously.

The bookcase slid back. She moved out onto the balcony and looked down to be sure that none of the servants had decided to dust the library at that moment. But as she had anticipated, she had the long chamber to herself.

Scooping up the skirts of her gown, she went swiftly down the spiral staircase and crossed the room to where she and Arthur had made love.

She searched the area anxiously, but there was no sign of her blue garter. It had to be here somewhere, she thought.

Last night she had not noticed it was missing until after Margaret had left. When she had realized that her left stocking was rolled down to her ankle she had assumed that the garter had come undone in the rush of getting out of her gown and into her wrapper. She had made a note to look for the missing item this morning in the daylight.

But a thorough search of her room a few minutes ago had not produced the garter. That was when she had realized that it had likely been lost in the library. A vision of Bennett Fleming having seen it and come to the obvious conclusion had induced a fit of near hysteria.

It was one thing to be a woman of the world, a lady of mystery and experience. It was quite another to have a very nice, very proper gentleman like Bennett Fleming discover one’s garter in a place where it had no business being found.

She allowed herself a sigh of relief when she saw that the blue garter was not anywhere in plain sight on the carpet. That meant that Bennet had probably not seen it the night before. Unfortunately, it did not rule out the possibility that one of the servants had come across it that morning.

She got down on her hands and knees to search under the sofa.

“Looking for this?” Arthur asked from somewhere above.

The sound of his voice gave her such a start that she rose too quickly. She narrowly avoided banging her head on the edge of a table.

She steadied herself and raised her eyes to the balcony where Arthur leaned casually on the railing. The blue garter dangled from the fingers of his right hand. He must have noticed her sneaking into the linen closet and followed her, she decided.

Irritated, she got to her feet.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, careful to keep her voice very low, “Iwaslooking for it. You must have known that I would be concerned about where it was lost. You could have said something earlier and saved me a good deal of anxiety.”

“Don’t worry, I recovered it last night before Fleming noticed it.” Arthur tossed the garter negligently into the air and caught it just as easily. “He never guessed that you had had your wicked way with me only moments before he arrived.”

She made a face, gathered her skirts in both hands and started up the stairs. “Allow me to tell you, sir, that, on occasion, your sense of humor is decidedly skewed.”

“There are those who would tell you that I have no sense of humor at all, skewed or otherwise.”

“One can certainly understand how those persons arrived at that conclusion.” She came to a halt at the top of the staircase and held out her hand for the garter. “May I have that?”

“I think not.” He dropped the garter into his pocket. “I’ve decided to start a collection.”

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