Page 86 of The Paid Companion

St. Merryn had visited Lady Wilmington.

The killer could scarcely believe what he had seen. Shaken, he stood in the shadows of the doorway halfway down the street and watched the gleaming carriage disappear around the corner.

Impossible. How had the bastard made the connection? And so quickly?

He had not been surprised when the street urchin who was his paid spy had reported that St. Merryn and Miss Lodge had gone to Mrs. Glentworth’s address. It was inevitable that sooner or later the earl would speak with Saturn’s widow. But what had that silly old woman told him that had sent him straight to the Wilmington townhouse?

Frantically, the killer went back over his plans, trying to determine if he had made a mistake. But he could not find any errors in his elaborate scheme.

He could feel himself starting to perspire. The sight of the St. Merryn carriage parked in the street outside Lady Wilmington’s front door was the first indication that this amusing game of wits that he had begun playing with his opponent had taken a nasty, unplanned turn.

Enough. He did not want to risk any more surprises. He had everything he required now to complete the device. The time had come to end the affair.

He moved out of the doorway and set off down the tree-lined street, his clever mind already at work on his new strategy.

29

Jeremy Clyde slouched out of the front door of the brothel. He ignored the handful of carriages and hacks waiting in the street hoping for fares. He needed some fresh air. His head was buzzing from the copious quantities of wine he had consumed.

He tried to think of where to go next. His club? One of the hells? The only other option was to go home to the shrew he had so foolishly wed. That was the very last thing he wished to do. She would be waiting for him with a long list of questions and demands.

He had thought that marrying a wealthy woman would solve all of his troubles. Instead it had increased his misery a thousand fold. Nothing had gone right since Elenora had lost her lands and her inheritance. If only her stepfather had not been so damnably stupid.

If only.It seemed to Jeremy that he repeated that phrase a hundred times each day.

It was not fair. Here he was, trapped in a dreadful marriage, hostage to the whims of his wife’s stingy parent, while Elenora had landed on her feet like the cat she was. She was going to marry one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in town. How could that be? It simply was not fair.

A man came toward him out of the darkness. Jeremy hesitated uncertainly. He relaxed when the light of the gas lamps revealed the fine, elegant coat and the gleaming boots that the stranger wore. Whoever he was, he was most certainly a gentleman, not a footpad.

“Good evening, Clyde,” the man said with an easy air.

“Beg your pardon,” Jeremy muttered. “Have we met?”

“Not yet.” The stranger swept him a mocking bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Stone.”

There was only one explanation for Stone’s air of amused familiarity, Jeremy thought grimly. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that the reason you know my name is because you witnessed my fall in the park the other afternoon or else heard the gossip concerning it. Save your breath.”

Stone chuckled. He draped his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder in a companionable way. “I admit that I was present on that unfortunate occasion, but I was not amused by your predicament. Indeed, I felt naught but a great sympathy. I also know that, had I been in your shoes, I would be eager for a bit of revenge against the gentleman who had caused me such humiliation.”

“Bah. There’s little chance of that.”

“Do not be so certain, sir. I may be able to assist you. You see, I have made a study of St. Merryn. I have set street boys to watch him from time to time, and I have interviewed his recently deceased butler who was, I assure you, a veritable fount of information. I know many things about the earl and his very unusual fiancée, things that I think you will find extremely interesting.”

30

Two days later, late in the evening, Elenora stood with Margaret at the back of yet another crammed, overheated ballroom. It was nearly midnight and she had dutifully endured several endless dances. Her feet ached, and she was restless and anxious.

None of those things would have mattered a jot, of course, if the dances had been with Arthur, but that was not the case. He had been gone all evening, just as he had been the night before, pursuing his inquiries. She wished she had been able to talk him into taking her with him, but, as he had explained, he could not smuggle her into the various gentlemen’s clubs where he went to interview the old men.

Her thoughts kept returning to the conversation with Lady Wilmington. It had occurred to her this afternoon that there was one very important question that she and Arthur had neglected to ask.

A pretty young woman, polite smile frozen in place, glided past in the arms of a middle-aged gentleman who could not seem to keep his attention away from the lady’s fair bosom.

“I must say, the longer I play my part in this affair,” Elenora murmured to Margaret, “the more my respect grows for the stamina and endurance of the young ladies who are being dangled on the marriage mart. I do not know how they manage.”

“They have been in training for years,” Margaret said dryly. “The stakes of this game are very high, after all. They are all well aware that their futures and in many cases the futures of their families are riding on the outcome of this one short Season.”

Elenora felt a rush of sudden understanding and sympathy. “That was how it was for you, was it not?”

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