The Paid Companion | Herophine

Prologue

Hero

Hero Fiennes Tiffin, Earl of St. Merryn, was sitting in front of a crackling fire in his club, drinking a glass of excellent port and reading a newspaper, when he received word that his fiancée had eloped with an other man.

"I'm told young Bryce used a ladder to climb up to her window and assist Miss Sydney down to the carriage." Felix Kent lowered his short, sturdy frame into the chair across from Hero and reached for the bottle of port. "They are headed north, by all accounts. No doubt making for Gretna Green. Sydney's father has just set out after them, but his coach is old and slow."

A great hush fell upon the room. All talk stopped. No papers rustled; no glasses moved. It was almost midnight and the club was full. Every man in the vicinity appeared to be frozen in his chair as he strained mightily to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place in front of the fire.

With a sigh, Hero folded his news paper, set it aside and took a swallow of his port. He looked toward the window where wind driven rain beat furiously against the glass panes.

"They'll be fortunate to get ten miles in this storm," he said.

As was the case with every other word he spoke that night, the remark be came part of the Fiennes Tiffin legend. ... So cold blooded that when he was told that his fiancee had run off with another man, he merely commented upon the damp weather.

Felix hastily downed some of his port and then followed Hero's gaze to the window. "Young Bryce and Miss Sydney have an excellent, well sprung carriage and a strong, fresh team." He cleared his throat. "It is doubtful that the lady's father will catch them, but a single man mounted on a good horse might be able to overtake the pair."

Expectation seethed in the crystalline silence. Hero was indisputably a single man, and it was no secret that his stable housed some extremely prime horse flesh. Everyone waited to see if the earl would elect to pursue the fleeing couple.

Hero got to his feet in a leisurely manner and picked up the half empty bottle of port. "Do you know, Felix, I seem to find myself suffering from the most extreme case of boredom this evening. I believe I will go see if there is anything of interest happening in the card room."

Felix's brows shot up toward his receding hairline. "You never gamble. I can't even begin to count the number of times that I have heard you claim that it is illogical to wager money on a roll of the dice or a hand of cards."

"I am feeling unusually lucky tonight." Hero started toward the card room.

"Devil take it," Felix muttered. Homely features creased in alarm, he climbed to his feet, seized his half fin ished glass of port and scrambled to catch up with the earl.

"Do you know," Hero said midway across the unnaturally silent room, "it occurs to me that I miscalculated rather badly when I asked Graham for his daughter's hand in marriage."

"Indeed?" Felix slanted Hero an uneasy glance, as though examining his companion for indications of a fever.

"Yes. I believe that the next time I set out to find myself a wife, I will approach the project in a more logical manner, just as I would one of my investments."

Felix grimaced, aware that their audience was still paying rapt attention to everything Hero said. "How in blazes do you intend to apply logic to the business of finding a wife?"

"It occurs to me that the qualities that one requires in a wife are not unlike those one would expect in a paid companion."

Felix sputtered and coughed on a mouthful of port. "A companion?"