The Paid Companion | Herophine

Chapter Seventeen

Zach

The buxom serving wench made one more attempt to snag his attention when she saw that he was making for the door of the smoky tavern. Zach gave her a brief, contemptuous survey, letting her know that the sight of her full breasts spilling out of the stained bodice of her dress filled him with disgust, not tust. Her cheeks went red. Anger and humiliation flashed across her face. With a swish of her skirts, she whirled and hurried off toward a table of raucous patrons.

Zach muttered a curse and opened the door. He had been in a foul temper since Hero Fiennes Tiffin had let him go two days earlier. Several hours of drinking bad ale and throwing bad dice tonight had done nothing to improve his mood.

He slouched down the steps into the street, turned and started toward his new lodgings. It was just going on midnight, and there was a full moon; an ideal setting for footpads. Anum ber of carriages rattled up and down the street. He knew they were filled with drunken gentlemen who, bored with their clubs and ballrooms, came to this neighbourhood in search of more earthy pleasures.

He shoved one hand deep into the pocket of his coat and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife that he had brought along for protection.

The silly serving wench was a fool to think that he would even consider lifting her skirts. Why would he want to share the filthy sheets of a tavern girl who likely bathed only once a week, if that? In the past few years, he had to come accustomed to tumbling the clean, perfumed ladies of the Quality; ladies who dressed in silks and satins; ladies who were ever so grateful for the attentions of a strong, well-made man who could satisfy them in bed.

A figure moved in the shadows of the alley up ahead. He tensed, nervously tightening his hand around the hilt of the knife. He heard the slap of shoes on pavement and glanced back at the tavern door, wondering if he should make a run for it.

At that moment a drunken whore stumbled out of the darkness, singing an off-key ballad to herself. She spotted him and stumbled to a halt.

“Well, now, yer a fine-looking one, ye are,” she called out. “What d’ya say to a bit o’ sport? I'll give ye a good price. Half the gennelmen’s rate. How does that sound?”

“Get out of my way, you stupid whore.”

“No call to be rude.” She hunched her shoulders and headed toward the lights of the tavern. “That’s always the way with the hand someones. Think they’re too good for the likes of a hard-working girl.”

Zach relaxed a little but quickened his pace. He was anxious to get back to the safety of his new lodgings. It was time to contemplate his future. He had plans to make.

He still had his looks, he reminded himself. With luck, he would keep them for a few more years. He would soon find another post. But the sad truth was that it was unlikely he’d ever again turn up a situation as comfortable and as profitable as the one he’d just lost.

The bleak prospect stoked his rage. What he wanted was revenge, he thought. He’d give a great deal to make Tiffin and Miss Langford pay for ruining his pleasant arrangement at the mansion in Rain Street.

But the only way to do that was to find a means of using the information he had obtained by eavesdropping. Thus far, he had not been able to come up with a promising scheme.

The big hurdle was that he did not know who in Society to approach. What member of the ton would be willing to pay for the news that Tiffin was trying to find his great-uncle’s killer or that the amusing jest concerning Miss Langford’s origins in an agency was actually the truth?