The Paid Companion by Amanda Quick

that it is Margaret who is the innocent from the country, not Miss Lodge.”
    Bennett frowned, thinking of the elaborate preparations his long-dead wife had made before every ball and soirée. “You will need someone who can deal with all the details,” he warned. “A fashionable lady must have the right gowns, gloves, dancing slippers and such. She must have a hairdresser or a maid who can manage her headdress. She must shop at the most stylish shops.”
    “I am aware of that.”
    “See here, Arthur, if Mrs. Lancaster is not capable of organizing the venture, you must find another relative who can handle it. Otherwise you will be facing a social disaster. Trust me on this matter. I have some experience, if you will recall.”
    “There is no need to bring anyone else into this affair.” Arthur looked quietly pleased. “Margaret will remain because I must have another woman in the household for propriety’s sake. I know who is who in the ton, thanks to my business dealings, so I will select the invitations that I want Miss Lodge to accept. You will escort the pair to the first couple of affairs and introduce my fiancée to a few of the right people. I do not want her to become a complete wallflower.”
    “Yes, well, I will be happy to do my best with the introductions, but what of the clothes, man? I promise you that is a very crucial aspect of this thing.”
    Arthur shrugged. “I’m sure Miss Lodge can handle the clothes.”
    Such unshakable confidence in another person, let alone in a lady, was most unlike Arthur, Bennett thought, intrigued. When it came to carrying out his labyrinthine schemes, he rarely reposed such complete confidence in anyone, male or female.
    Bennett counted himself one of those few whom Arthur did trust, and now, it seemed, Miss Lodge had been added to that very short list. How interesting.
    “Well, what of the social aspect?” Bennett persisted. “You know how treacherous the waters are in a fashionable ballroom. If Miss Lodge is seen talking to the wrong person, it will destroy the impression that you are trying to make. It will be worse yet if she dances with the wrong man or goes out into the gardens with him. Very young ladies are protected by their mamas or a skilled chaperone, but from what you’ve told me, Miss Lodge will have no one to hover over her.”
    “That is not quite correct, Bennett.” Arthur smiled slightly. “I intend that she will have you to hover over her.”
    Bennett uttered a heartfelt groan and closed his eyes. “I was afraid that you were going to say something like that.”
    9
    The following morning Elenora surveyed her bedchamber, her hands on her hips, one toe tapping.
    The dark, somber furnishings included an ornately carved wardrobe, a massive, heavily draped bed and a dark, dingy carpet. The wallpaper was from an earlier era when lush, exotic patterns had been the height of fashion. Unfortunately the colors had faded to the point where it was impossible to make out the twining vines and flowers.
    The degree of cleanliness in this room was of a piece with what she had seen throughout the mansion. Only a minimum of dusting, sweeping and polishing had been done. There was a thick layer of grime on the frame of the octagonal mirror and on the headboard. The cloudy view through the window was evidence that no one had washed the panes in recent memory.
    If she was going to be living here for the next few weeks she would have to do something about the deplorable condition of the household, she decided.
    Opening the door, she let herself out into the gloomy hail. She was not looking forward to breakfast. The evening meal the night before had consisted of tasteless stewed chicken, dumplings that could have served as ballast for a ship, vegetables cooked to an unwholesome shade of gray and a boiled suet pudding.
    She and Margaret had dined alone together in the somber dining room. Arthur had had the good sense to take himself off to his club. She did not blame