Page 95 of The Paid Companion

“I do not like this, sir. Please take Jenks with you.”

Arthur turned his head toward the rapidly diminishing point of light that was the lantern his quarry carried. “It will be difficult enough as it is to keep my quarry unaware of my presence. He will surely spot two men following him.”

He made to close the door.

“Wait. You recognize that man with the lantern, don’t you?” she whispered.

“He is Roland Burnley. The man who eloped with Juliana.”

Arthur closed the door before Elenora could recover from her astonishment.

32

The weak illumination supplied by the small lights of the carriages and the gas lamp at the door of the Green Lyon faded rapidly behind Arthur. He moved more quickly, trying to keep Roland’s lantern in sight. He had to concentrate to keep his weight on the balls of his feet so that the heels of his boots would not sound a warning on the paving stones.

Roland, on the other hand, was making no particular attempt at stealth. His steps were swift and sure; a man who knew where he was going.

The cramped, twisted street was lined with small shops that were all closed and shuttered for the night. No lights shone in the rooms above the business establishments. It was not a particularly dangerous neighborhood in the light of day, but at this hour only a fool would come here alone.

What drew Roland here?

A few minutes later his quarry came to a halt in front of a darkened doorway. Arthur moved into a vestibule and watched as Roland let himself into a small, cramped hall. The lantern light flared briefly and then disappeared entirely when the door closed behind the young man.

It occurred to Arthur that Roland might be visiting a woman in this street. There would be nothing unusual about such a situation. It was common for gentlemen, even those who had been recently wed, to keep a mistress on the side. But that type of indulgence was expensive. By all accounts the Burnley finances were in exceedingly poor shape.

Arthur watched the windows on the floor above the door that Roland had just entered. There was no sign of lantern light. Roland must have gone to a room at the back of the building.

He would learn nothing standing about in this doorway, he concluded. He lit his own lantern, turned the light down very low, and moved out of the shadows. He crossed the tiny street and tried the door through which Roland had disappeared.

It opened easily.

The dim light of the lantern revealed the stairs that led to the floor above the shops. Arthur removed the pistol from the pocket of his coat.

He went up the stairs cautiously, watching for any unexpected shadows on the landing. Nothing moved in the darkness.

At the top of the steps he found himself in an unlit corridor. There were two doors. A slender edge of light showed beneath one of them.

He set the lantern down so that the weak glare lit the floor but did not throw him into strong silhouette. No sense making a perfect target of himself, he thought.

He went to the door and tried the knob with his left hand. It turned easily in his fingers. Whatever he was about here, Roland did not seem to be concerned that someone might walk in on him with a pistol. Then again, perhaps he simply did not intend to stay very long and wished to be able to leave quickly without having to fumble for a key.

Arthur listened intently for a moment. There was no conversation inside the room. He could hear only one person, presumably Roland, moving around inside.

A drawer opened and closed. A moment later there was a squeak. The rusty hinges of a wardrobe?

When he heard a lengthy scraping sound he used the noise as cover to open the door.

He found himself looking into a small chamber furnished with a bed, a wardrobe and an old washstand. Roland was crouched on the bare wooden floorboards, searching under the bed. He did not hear Arthur enter the room.

“Good evening, Burnley.”

“What?” Roland jerked around, staggering to his feet. He stared. “St. Merryn.So it’s true.” Anguish leaped in his eyes. It was washed away an instant later by a searing anger. “You did force her into your bed.Bastard.”

He launched himself toward Arthur in a reckless fury, both hands outstretched. Either he had not noticed the pistol or he was too enraged to care about the threat it posed.

Arthur moved swiftly out of the doorway and into the hall. He sidestepped and stuck out one booted foot. Roland’s momentum carried him forward with such energy and speed that he could not halt his rush.

He stumbled over Arthur’s boot and flailed desperately in a vain attempt to catch his balance. He did not fall to the floor but he wheeled and collided with the wall on the opposite side of the hall.

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