The Paid Companion | Herophine

Chapter Thirty Five

“In short,” she concluded, “the gentlemen in the clubs have all concluded that Fiennes Tiffin has played a great joke upon Society. They believe that he hired me to serve as an extremely convenient mistress.”

“They have concluded that you are his mistress posing as his fiancée. And that he has arranged to have you live right under his roof so as to have you conveniently at hand. How utterly outrageous,” Lucy exclaimed.

Charlotte gave her a quelling frown. “Do try to remember that Josephine is not actually Tiffin’s mistress, Lucy. That is merely the rumour that is going around the clubs.”

“Yes, of course,” Lucy said hastily. She gave Josephine an apologetic if somewhat regretful grin. “Do go on.”

“As I was saying,” Josephine continued, “the wagers all involve the date that Tiffin will end his little charade and dismiss me.” She paused a beat to make certain she had their full attention. “I see no reason why we should not take advantage of this situation, to place our own bets.”

Comprehension appeared first in their eyes. It was followed almost at once by the first glimmers of wonder and hope.

“It would be a certainty,” Charlotte whispered, awed by the possibilities. “If Josephine could persuade Fiennes Tiffin to end their association on a specific day—”

“I do not think there will be any problem there,” Josephine assured them. “I believe that Fiennes Tiffin will cooperate on the matter of the exact date.”

“And we would be the only ones who knew that date,” Lucy breathed. “Why, we might each win a fortune.”

“It would be tempting to wager several thousand pounds,” Josephine said, “but I do not think that would be wise. A vast sum might make people suspicious. We do not want anyone questioning our bets.”

“How much, then?” Lucy demanded.

Josephine hesitated, thinking. “l expect that we could safely wager a total of seven or eight hundred pounds. I should think any amount under a thousand would be small enough to go unnoticed in the betting books. We will split the winnings three ways.”

“Certainly sounds like a fortune to me,” Lucy declared, entranced. She glanced meaningfully up at the ceiling. “It is a good deal more than I expect to see from Mrs. Blancheflower in her will, and I probably stand a greater chance of collecting it. I am starting to think my employer may outlive me.”

“But how would we arrange to place the bet?” Charlotte asked. “No lady can walk into one of those clubs in St. James and put a wager in the book.”

“I have considered the problem closely,” Josephine said, “and I believe that I have a plan that will work.”

“This is so exciting,” Charlotte said.

“I think the venture deserves to be celebrated with more than a cup of tea,” Lucy announced.

She rose from the sofa, opened a cupboard and took down a dusty decanter of sherry.

“One moment,” Charlotte said, some of her enthusiasm evaporating. “What happens if we lose the wager? We could not possibly cover our bets.”

“For heaven’s sake, Charlotte, use your head.” Lucy removed the cut glass top of the sherry decanter. “The only way we could lose is if Fiennes Tiffin were to actually marry Jo. Now, how likely do you think that is?”

Charlotte’s face cleared instantly. “Likely? It is inconceivable that a gentleman of his wealth and position would marry a paid companion. I don’t know what got into me to even suggest that we might lose.”