The Paid Companion | Herophine

Chapter Twenty Three

“Do you not understand?” he said. “There is a very ancient, very foul tradition among men who wage war against each other. More often than not, the winners seek to proclaim their victories by taking possession of their opponents’ women.”

“Possession? Sir, you speak of rape.” She leapt to her feet. “I assure you, it was only a dance.”

“And I assure you, Miss Langford, that in the villain’s mind that dance was symbolic of another act entirely.”

“That is ridiculous,” she began stoutly. Then she recalled how much she had disliked the feel of the stranger’s hand on her waist. She took a deep breath. “Regardless of how he viewed the situation, from my perspective, it was nothing more than a short waltz with an unpleasant partner.”

“I know. But your opinion is rather beside the point.”

“I disagree,” she said fiercely.

He acted as if he had not heard her. “I must concoct another plan.”

She could tell that he was already formulating his new strategy. “Very well. What shall we do, sir?”

“You will do nothing, Josephine, except go up to your room to pack. Your employment in this household ends tonight. I will send your wages to you.”

“What?” Outraged, she stared at him. “You are letting me go?”

“Yes. I intend to send you away to one of my estates until this affair is ended.”

Raw panic jolted through her. She was not going back to the country. Her new life was here in London. Whatever happened, she would not allow herself to be packed off to some remote village estate where she would have to cool her heels for heaven knew how long.

But getting hysterical would only make matters worse, she told herself. This was Hero. The logic worked best with him.

She fought to keep her voice even and controlled. “You intend to send me away merely because the villain danced with me?”

“I told you, to him it was more than a dance.”

She flushed. “For heaven’s sake, Hero, it is not as though he forced himself upon me.”

“What he did,” Hero said in a startlingly rough voice, “was demonstrate that he sees you as a pawn in this game that he is playing with me. I will not permit him to use you in any way.”

She must make allowances for his rigid manner, she told herself. After all, he was attempting to protect her.

“I appreciate what you are trying to do,” she said, striving to maintain her patience, “but it is much too late. I am involved in this affair, whether you like it or not. My lord, I fear that you are not thinking with your customary clarity.”

He watched her very steadily. “Indeed?”

At least she had his attention, she thought. “Hero, you are obviously deeply concerned about my safety. That is very gallant of you. But what makes you think that the villain will forget about me if you send me away to rusticate in the country?”

“Once he understands that I have changed my strategy, he will lose interest in you.”

“I do not think that you can depend upon that outcome. Have you considered the possibility that the killer may well decide that I possess even more valuable information about you and your schemes than Zach did?”

There was a short, shattering silence. She saw the grim comprehension on Hero’s face and knew that he could not deny her logic.

“I will provide you with an armed guard,” he said.