The Paid Companion (3 page)

He did not blame Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis for their growing exasperation. But he was beyond being exasperated. He was desperate.

Mrs. Goodhew cleared her throat, folded her large, competent hands on top of her desk and regarded Arthur with a stern air. “My lord, I regret to say that we have exhausted our list of suitable applicants.”

“Impossible. There must be someone else.” There had to be another candidate. His entire plan hinged on finding the right woman.

Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis glowered at him from behind their matching desks. They were both formidable females. Mrs. Goodhew was tall and grandly proportioned with a face that could have been stamped on an ancient coin. Her associate was as thin and sharp as a pair of shears.

Both were soberly but expensively attired. There was a judicious amount of gray in their hair and a considerable measure of experience in their eyes.

The sign on the front door outside declared that the Goodhew & Willis Agency had supplied paid companions and governesses to persons of quality for over fifteen years. The fact that these two had established this agency and operated it at an obvious profit for that period of time was a testimony to their intelligence and sound business sense.

Arthur studied their determined expressions and considered his options. Before coming here, he had gone to two other agencies that boasted a selection of ladies seeking work as paid companions. Each had produced a handful of insipid prospects. He had felt a distinct pang of pity for all of them. He understood that only the most dire conditions of genteel poverty could induce any female to seek such a post. But he was not in the market for a woman who aroused the emotion of pity in others.

He clasped his hands behind his back, widened his stance and confronted Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis from the far side of the room.

“If you have run through all of the suitable candidates,” he said, “then the answer is clear. Find me an
unsuitable
female.”

The two stared at him as though he had taken leave of his senses.

Mrs. Willis recovered first. “This is a respectable agency, sir. We do not have any
unsuitable
females in our files,” she said in her razor-edged voice. “Our ladies are all guaranteed to possess reputations that are entirely above reproach. Their references are impeccable.”

“Perhaps you would do well to try another agency,” Mrs. Goodhew suggested in quelling tones.

“I don’t have time to go to another agency.” He could not believe that his carefully calculated scheme was about to fall apart simply because he could not find the right female. He had assumed that this would be the simplest, most straightforward part of the plan. Instead, it was proving to be astonishingly complicated. “I told you, I must fill this post immediately-”

The door slammed open behind him with resounding force, effectively putting an end to his sentence.

Together with Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis, he turned to look at the woman who blew into the office with the force of a small storm off the sea.

He saw at once that she had, possibly by accident although he suspected more likely by design, tried to distract attention from her striking features. A pair of gold-framed spectacles partially veiled her vivid amber-gold eyes. Her glossy, midnight-dark hair was pulled back in a remarkably severe style that would have looked more appropriate on a housekeeper or maid.

She wore a serviceable gown of some heavy, dull material in a peculiarly unattractive shade of gray. The garment looked as though it had been deliberately fashioned to make its wearer appear shorter and heavier than she actually was.

The connoisseurs of the ton and the obnoxious dandies who loitered about on

He watched the purposeful yet graceful way in which she moved. There was nothing timid or hesitant about her. Lively intelligence glittered in her exotic eyes. Spirit and determination radiated from her.

In an attempt to maintain his objectivity, he concluded that the lady lacked the sort of smooth, superficial perfection that would have caused the men of the ton to hail her as a diamond of the first water. Nevertheless, there was about her something that drew the eye, an energy and vitality that created an invisible aura. In the right clothes she would not go unnoticed in a ballroom.

“Miss Lodge, please, you cannot go in there.” The harried-looking woman who occupied the desk in the outer office hovered uncertainly in the opening. “I told you, Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis are discussing a very important matter with a client.”

“I do not care if they are discussing their wills or their funeral arrangements, Mrs. McNab. I intend to speak with them immediately. I have had quite enough of this nonsense.”

Miss Lodge came to a halt in front of the twin desks. Arthur knew that she had not noticed him standing behind her in the shadows. The thick fog outside the windows was, in part, responsible. The mist allowed only a vague, gray light into the office. ‘What little illumination there was did not penetrate far.

Mrs. Willis heaved a long-suffering sigh and assumed an expression that implied she was resigned to some inevitable fate.

Mrs. Goodhew, obviously made of sterner stuff, surged to her feet. “What in heaven’s name do you think you are doing interrupting us in this outrageous manner, Miss Lodge?”

“I am correcting what appears to be the mistaken impression that I am seeking a post in the household of a drunkard, or a lecherous rakehell.” Miss Lodge narrowed her gaze. “Let us be clear about this. I am in need of an immediate position. I cannot afford to waste any more time interviewing employers who are obviously unacceptable.”

“We will discuss this later, Miss Lodge,” Mrs. Goodhew snapped.

“We will discuss it now. I have just come from the appointment you arranged for me this afternoon, and I can assure you that I would not take that post if it were the very last position you had to offer.”

Mrs. Goodhew smiled with what could only be described as cold triumph. “As it happens, Miss Lodge, it is, indeed, the very last post that this agency intends to make available to you.”

Miss Lodge frowned. “Don’t be absurd. As annoying as this process is for all concerned and most especially for me, I fear we must press on.”

Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis exchanged glances. Mrs. Goodhew turned back to Miss Lodge.

“On the contrary” she said icily. “I see no point in sending you out on even one more interview.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention, Mrs. Goodhew?” Miss Lodge snapped. “I told you, I am in need of a new position immediately. My current employer will be leaving town the day after tomorrow to join her friend in the country. She has graciously consented to allow me to stay with her until she departs, but after that I will be obliged to find new lodgings. Lodgings which, due to the extremely poor wages I have been paid for the past few months, I cannot afford at the moment.”

Mrs. Willis shook her head with what appeared to be sincere regret. “We have done our best to secure another post for you, Miss Lodge. You have had five interviews with five different clients in the past three days, but you have failed at each attempt.”

“I am not the one who failed those interviews. The prospective employers failed them.” Miss Lodge raised one gloved hand and began to tick off her fingers as she continued. “Mrs. Tibbett was well into her cups when I arrived, and she continued to nip at her bottle of gin until she toppled over and fell sound asleep on the sofa. Why she seeks a paid companion is beyond me. She was unable to carry on a coherent conversation.”

“That is quite enough, Miss Lodge,” Mrs. Goodhew said through set teeth.

“Mrs. Oxby said nothing during the entire interview. Instead she allowed her son to conduct the proceedings.” Miss Lodge shuddered. “It was obvious that he is one of those dreadful men who inflicts himself upon the weak and helpless females in his own household. The situation was impossible. I have no intention of living under the same roof with such a despicable man.”

“Miss Lodge, if you please.” Mrs. Goodhew seized a paperweight and thumped the top of her desk.

Miss Lodge ignored her. “And then there was Mrs. Stanbridge, who was so ill that she was forced to conduct the interview from her bed. It was clear to me that she will not survive the fortnight. Her relatives are dealing with her affairs. They cannot wait for her to cock up her toes so that they can get their hands on her money. I could see immediately that it would have been highly unlikely that I would have been able to collect my fees from them.”

Mrs. Goodhew drew herself up to her full height and bristled. “It is not the prospective employers who are to blame for your predicament, Miss Lodge. You are the one who is responsible for your failure to secure new employment.”

“Nonsense. I had no difficulty whatsoever in obtaining a suitable position six months ago when I first applied to this firm.”

“Mrs. Willis and I have concluded that that bit of luck came about solely because of the fact that your first employer happened to be a noted eccentric who, for some incomprehensible reason, found you amusing,” Mrs. Goodhew declared.

“Unfortunately for you, Miss Lodge,” Mrs. Willis added with ghoulish good cheer, “our list of clients is quite short of eccentrics at the moment. Generally speaking, we do not cater to that type of client.”

It occurred to Arthur that the tension in the room had escalated to the point where the three women had forgotten that he was there.

Miss Lodge flushed an angry shade of pink. “Mrs. Egan is not an eccentric. She is an intelligent, well-traveled woman who holds enlightened views on a vast number of subjects.”

“Twenty years ago she had a string of lovers that was said to include half the ton, both male and female,” Mrs. Goodhew shot back. “She is rumored to be a devoted follower of Wollstonecraft’s odd notions regarding female behavior, she refuses to eat meat, she is a student of metaphysics and everyone knows that she once traveled all the way to Egypt and back with only two servants for company.”

“Furthermore, it is a well-known fact that she will only wear garments made of purple cloth,” Mrs. Willis announced. “Rest assured, Miss Lodge, eccentric is the most polite label we can apply to your current employer.”

“That is grossly unfair.” Miss Lodge’s eyes sparkled with outrage. “Mrs. Egan is an estimable employer. I will not allow you to slander her.”

Arthur found himself both amused and strangely entranced by her loyalty to her soon-to-be-former employer.

Mrs. Goodhew snorted. “We are not here to discuss Mrs. Egan’s personal qualities, however estimable you may deem them to be. The fact is, there really is nothing more that we can do for you, Miss Lodge.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Miss Lodge said.

Mrs. Willis beetled her brows. “How do you expect us to find a place for you, Miss Lodge, when you have steadfastly refused to adopt the appropriate demeanor required of a successful paid companion? We have explained time and again that meekness, humility and quiet, restrained speech are imperative.”

“Bah, I have been meek and humble to a fault.” Miss Lodge appeared sincerely affronted by the criticism. “And as for quiet speech, I challenge either of you to prove that my conversation has been anything but quiet and restrained.”

Mrs. Willis raised her eyes to the ceiling, evidently seeking help from a higher power.

Mrs. Goodhew snorted. “Your notion of appropriate behavior differs markedly from that of this agency. We are unable to do anything more for you, Miss Lodge.”

Arthur noticed that Miss Lodge was starting to look worried now. Her firm, elegant jaw tightened visibly. He could see that she was about to change tactics.

“Let us not be too hasty here,” she said smoothly. “I am certain there must be other potential employers in your files.” She gave both women a sudden, brilliant smile that could have lit up an entire ballroom. “If you will allow me to look through them, I can no doubt save all of us a good deal of time.”

“Let you examine our client files?” Mrs. Willis flinched as though she had touched an electricity machine. “Out of the question. Those files are confidential.”

“Calm yourself” Miss Lodge said. “I have no intention of gossiping about your clients. I merely wish to peruse the files so that I may make an informed decision concerning my future employment.”

Mrs. Willis squinted at her down the long length of her sharp nose. “You do not seem to grasp the salient point here, Miss Lodge. It is the
client
who makes the decision when it comes to filling the post, not the applicant.”

“On the contrary.” Miss Lodge took a step closer to Mrs. Willis’s desk, leaned over slightly and flattened her gloved hands on the polished surface. “It is you who fail to comprehend. I cannot afford to fritter away any more time on this project. Allowing me to examine the files seems an entirely sensible approach to the problem we face.”

“We
do not face a problem, Miss Lodge.” Mrs. Goodhew raised her brows. “You face one. I fear that from now on, you must face it somewhere else.”

“That is quite impossible,” Miss Lodge looked at her. “I have already explained that there is not enough time left for me to apply to another agency. I must have a position before Mrs. Egan departs for the country.”

Arthur made his decision. “Perhaps you would care to consider one more offer of employment from this agency, Miss Lodge.”

3

The sound of his voice, dark, chilled, controlled and seemingly emanating from the gloom behind her, unnerved Elenora to such a degree that she very nearly dropped her reticule.

She whirled around with a tiny, stifled gasp. For a few disturbing seconds she could not make him out clearly, but she knew instantly that whoever he was, he could well prove dangerous. An oddly exhilarating thrill of anticipation swept through her.

Hastily, she tried to shake off the sensation. She had never reacted like this to any man. It was no doubt a trick of the poor light. The fog had closed in very snugly around the windows, and the two small lamps on the desks of Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis created more shadows than they dispelled.