The Paid Companion | Herophine

Chapter Twenty Six

“What will you do after you sell the house?” Josephine inquired.

“I shall be obliged to move in with my sister and her husband. I detest them both and they feel the same way about me. They have very little money to spare. It will be a miserable life, but what else can I do?”

“I shall tell you what else you can do,” Josephine said crisply. “You may sell this house to Hero. He will give you more than you will obtain if you try to sell it to someone else. In addition, he will allow you the use of it for the remainder of your life.”

Mrs Glentworth gaped at her. “I beg your pardon?” She shot a quick, disbelieving glance at Hero. “Why would his lordship want to purchase this house for more than it is worth?”

“Because you have been extremely helpful today, and he is happy to show his gratitude.” Josephine looked at Hero. “Is that not correct, dear?”

Hero raised his brows, but all he said was, “Of course.”

Mrs Glentworth looked uncertainly at Hero. “You will do such a thing merely because I answered your questions today?”

He smiled faintly. “I actually am quite grateful, madam. Which reminds me, I have one last question that I wish to ask.”

“Yes, certainly.” Hope and relief began to lighten Mrs Glentworth’s drawn expression.”

“Do you recall the name of your husband’s third friend?”

“Lord Treyford.” Mrs Glentworth frowned slightly. “I never met him, but my husband mentioned him frequently enough in the old days. Treyford is dead, though. He was killed many years ago while still a young man.”

“Do you know anything else about him?” Hero pressed. “Was he married? Is there a widow might consult? Any children?”

Mrs Glentworth thought about that and then shook her head. “I do not believe so. In the early days, my husband made several references to the fact that Treyford was too devoted to his researches to be bothered with the demands of a wife and family.” She sighed. “Indeed, I believe he was quite envious of Treyford’s freedom from such obligations.”

“Did your husband make any other comments about Treyford?” Hero asked.

“He used to say that Lord Treyford was far and away from the most brilliant of their little group. He once told me that if Treyford had lived, England might have had its second Newton.”

“I see,” Hero said.

“They thought themselves so clever, you know.” Mrs Glentworth clasped her hands very tightly in her lap. Some of her anger returned to her face. “They were sure that they would all change the world with their experiments and their elevated conversations about science. But what good did their study of natural philosophy do, I ask you? None at all. And now they’re all gone, aren’t they?”

“So it seems,” Josephine said quietly.

Hero put down his unfinished tea. “You have been very helpful, Mrs Glentworth. If you will excuse us, we must be on our way. I will have my man of affairs call upon you at once to settle the business of the house and your creditors.”

“Except for her, of course,” Mrs Glentworth concluded harshly. “She’s still alive. Outlived them all, didn’t she?”

Josephine was very careful not to look at Hero. She was aware that he was standing just as still as she was.

“She?” Hero repeated without inflexion.

“I always thought of her as some sort of sorceress.” Mrs Glentworth’s voice was low and grim. “Perhaps she really did place a curse on them. Wouldn’t have put it past her.”

“I don’t understand,” Josephine said. “Was there a lady among your husband’s circle of close acquaintances all those years ago?”

Another wave of anger flashed across Mrs Glentworth’s face. “They called her their Goddess of Inspiration. My husband and his friends never missed her Wednesday afternoon salons in the old days. When she summoned them, they rushed to her townhouse. Sat about drinking port and brandy and talking of natural philosophy as though they were all great, learned men. Trying to impress her, I suspect.”

“Who was she?” Hero asked.

Mrs Glentworth was so lost in her unpleasant memories that she seemed confused by the question. “Why, Lady Wilmington, of course. They were all her devoted slaves. Now they are all dead, and she is the only one left. A rather odd twist of fate, is it not?”

Hero

A short time later Hero handed Josephine up into the carriage. His mind was occupied with the information that Mrs Glentworth had just given them. That did not stop him from appreciating the elegant curve of Josephine’s attractive backside when she leaned over slightly and tightened her skirts to step into the cab.

“You managed to make that visit cost me a pretty penny,” he said mildly, closing the door and sitting down across from her.

“Come now, sir, you know very well that even had I not been present, you would have offered to assist Mrs Glentworth. Admit it.”

“I admit nothing.” He settled back into the seat and turned his attention to the conversation that had just been concluded in the shabby little parlour. “The fact that Glentworth died in a laboratory accident only a few weeks after my great-uncle was murdered indicates that the killer may have struck not twice but three times.”

“Glentworth, your great-uncle, and Zach.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts as though she had felt a sudden chill. “Perhaps this mysterious Lady Wilmington will be able to tell us something of value. Are you acquainted with her, sir?”

“No, but I intend to remedy that state of affairs this very afternoon, if possible.”

“Ah, yes, just as you did with Mrs Glentworth.”

“Indeed.”

“Your title and wealth certainly have one or two useful advantages.”

“They open doors so that I may ask questions.” He shrugged. “But unfortunately they do not guarantee that I will get honest answers.”

Nor were they enough to win a lady who was determined to go into trade, maintain her independence and live her life on her terms, he thought.