The Paid Companion by Amanda Quick Page B

consider it my home.” He shrugged and lowered his cup. “In fact, I am thinking of selling it. But please feel free to make any changes you like while you are here.”
    She nibbled at the drooping toast. “I can certainly understand why you would wish to sell. This is a large and expensive residence to maintain.”
    “The cost has nothing to do with it.” His eyes hardened. “I simply dislike the place. When I marry, I will require a house in town for occasional use, but I will purchase another residence for that purpose.”
    For some reason his comment caused her to lose what little interest she’d had in the toast. Naturally he was contemplating a real marriage, she thought. Why had mention of it depressed her spirits? He had a duty to the title and his family. Furthermore, when he did get around to selecting his countess, he would do what other men in his situation did: He would look for a sheltered young lady just out of the schoolroom, the sort of female he had deemed too delicate and too innocent to be employed as a make-believe fiancée.
    St. Merryn’s bride-his real bride-would be a lady with a pristine reputation; one whose family was unsullied by scandal or a connection to trade. She would bring him lands and a fortune, even though he had no need of either, because that was how things were done in his world.
    It was time to change the subject, she decided. “Is there any news of interest in the papers?”
    “Just the customary gossip and scandal broth.” Disdain ran deep in his voice. “Nothing of importance. What do you have on your schedule for today?”
    “Margaret and I plan to go shopping.”
    He nodded. “Excellent. I want you to make your appearance in Society as quickly as possible.”
    “We should be ready to attend our first party tomorrow evening,” she assured him.
    Ibbitts entered the dining room carrying the badly tarnished salver from the front hail. The tray was heaped with a pile of cards and notes.
    Arthur looked up. “What have you got there?”
    “Another batch of calling cards and an assortment of invitations, m’lord,” Ibbitts said. “What do you wish me to do with them?”
    “I will deal with them in the library.”
    “Yes, m’lord.”
    Arthur crumpled his napkin and got to his feet.
    “You will excuse me, my dear,” he said. “I must be off. Later today I will let you have the list of social affairs that you are to attend this week.”
    “Yes, Arthur,” she murmured in her most dutiful tones. She would not take his my
dear
seriously, she told herself. The endearment was solely for Ibbitts’s benefit.
    To her astonishment, he leaned down and kissed her; not on her cheek but directly on her mouth. It was a very brief, very possessive kiss; the sort of kiss a man bestowed upon a real fiancée.
    Who would have guessed that Arthur was such an excellent actor? she mused, a bit dazed.
    She was so rattled by the unexpected display of fraudulent affection that she could not speak for a moment. By the time she recovered, Arthur had left the dining room. She heard the muffled ring of the heels of his elegantly polished Hessians out in the hail.
    “Will there be anything else, madam?” Ibbitts asked in a tone that suggested strongly that there could not possibly be anything of the sort.
    “As a matter of fact, there is something else.” Elenora dropped her napkin on the table. “Please bring me the household accounts for the past two quarters.”
    Ibbitts stared, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then his cheeks turned a dull red. His mouth worked a few times before he managed to speak.
    “I beg your pardon, madam?”
    “I think that I made myself quite clear, Ibbitts.”
    “The old earl’s man-of-affairs keeps the household accounts, ma’am. I do not have them. I merely keep a tally of the expenses and give the information to Mr. Ormesby.”
    “I see. In that case, perhaps you can answer some questions for me.”
    “What questions, ma’am?” Ibbitts asked