Page 92 of The Paid Companion

“Was he fat?” Arthur prompted. “Thin?

“Not fat.” Jeremy hesitated. “Seemed very fit.”

“Were his features unusual in any way?” Elenora asked. “Did he have any scars?”

Jeremy glowered. “I don’t recall any scars. As far as his looks go, he seemed to be the type that women find attractive.”

“How was he dressed?”

“Expensively,” Jeremy said without hesitation. “I remember asking him for the name of his tailor, but he made some joke and changed the subject.”

“What of his hands?” Elenora said. “Can you describe them?”

“His hands?” Jeremy stared at her if she had asked him to an extremely complex question in mathematics. “I don’t recall anything unusual about them.”

“This is useless.” Arthur let go of his coat. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, be sure to send word to me immediately.”

Jeremy adjusted his coat and cravat with angry movements. “Why in blazes would I bother to do that?”

Arthur’s smile was as cold as the outer rings of Hades. “Because we have every reason to think that your new acquaintance has killed at least three men in recent weeks.”

Jeremy made a gargling sound, but no actual words emerged. Under other circumstances, Elenora thought, she would have found the sight vastly amusing.

In any event, she did not have long to savor Jeremy’s shocked expression because Arthur steered her away from the circle of statues and back toward the ballroom.

“What the devil were you doing out here with Clyde in the first place?” he growled.

“I thought I saw someone who might have been the killer.”

“Damn it to the Pit. He was here?” Arthur halted so suddenly that Elenora tripped over his boot. She would have stumbled to her knees had he not held her upright. “Are you certain?”

“I believe so, but I must admit that I cannot be positive.” She hesitated. “He touched my back, just below my neck. I could swear it was quite deliberate. The sensation made me go cold all the way to my bones.”

“Bastard.” Arthur pulled her close and wrapped a possessive arm around her.

It felt very pleasant to be pressed against his chest like this, Elenora thought. Warm and safe and comfortable.

“Arthur, it could very well have been my imagination,” she said into his coat. “Heaven knows I have been somewhat tense of late. We must concentrate on what we learned from Jeremy.”

“Yes.”

She raised her head reluctantly. “There are very few people other than you and me who knew the name of the agency where you went to employ me. Of that number, Ibbitts is the only one who would have willingly related the information to anyone else.”

“And the person he gave the name of the agency to was likely the man who killed him.” Arthur loosened his grip on her and resumed making his way back toward the terrace steps. “Come. We must hurry.”

“Where are we going?”

“You are going home. I am going to the Green Lyon to keep watch for a while. Clyde said his new acquaintance seemed familiar with the club. Perhaps he will be there tonight.”

“No, Arthur, that won’t work. I must go with you.”

“Elenora, I do not have time to argue about this.”

“I agree. But you are not thinking logically, sir. I must go with you tonight to keep watch. Poor witness that I am, I am still the only person who might be able to identify the killer.”

31

An hour later, Elenora wrapped her shawl more snugly around her shoulders and adjusted the blanket across her knees. The night was not especially cold, but one felt the chill when one sat in an unlit carriage for an extended period of time.

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