Quick, Amanda by The Paid Companion Page A

she supposed to carry on a conversation with a man who
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    obviously wished to be somewhere else?
    “I must tell you, I envy St. Merryn,” Hathersage continued dryly. “He has managed to find himself a
    fiancée without having to subject himself to the rigors of the Season. I, on the other hand, am in the
    position of having to endure an endless string of silly young misses fresh out of the schoolroom.”
    His attitude started to irritate her. “I suspect that the process of making a good match is just as arduous
    for the young ladies as it is for gentlemen such as yourself, sir.”
    “Impossible.” He looked deeply pained. “You cannot imagine how difficult it is for a man of my years
    and experience of the world to make conversation with a young chit of seventeen. All the little creatures
    want to talk about is Byron’s latest nonsense or the newest fashions from Paris.”
    “You must look at the situation from the young ladies’ perspective, sir. I assure you, it can be
    mind-numbingly difficult to make conversation with a man who is old enough to be your father when you
    would much rather dance with a handsome young poet.”
    Hathersage looked briefly disconcerted. Then he frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
    “A man, furthermore, who is only interested in your looks, your reputation and your inheritance.” She
    made a tut-tutting sound. “When that exceedingly dull gentleman displays no knowledge whatsoever of
    the subjects that are of interest to a young lady, it is a wonder she is able to make any sort of
    conversation at all, is it not? One certainly cannot imagine her rushing home to write any romantic
    reminiscences in her journal about such a dance partner, can one?”
    There was a startled pause while Hathersage digested that observation.
    A reluctant spark of genuine interest gleamed in his eyes. “Where the devil did St. Merryn find you, Miss
    Lodge?”
    She flashed him her most polished smile. “As you are acquainted with my fiancé, you are no doubt
    aware that he possesses an extremely logical mind. He naturally applied his talents for analysis and sound
    reasoning to the task of finding a suitable bride.”
    “Logic and reason, eh?” Hathersage was fascinated now. “And where did those skills direct him to go in
    search of such a paragon?”
    “Why, to an agency that specializes in supplying paid companions to the most exclusive sort, of course.”
    Hathersage chuckled, evidently having decided to go along with the jest. “Ah, yes, he did indeed vow to
    do just that.”
    “It is a sensible approach. When one comes right down to the nub of the matter, husbands and wives
    are, in essence, companions, are they not?”
    “Hadn’t considered the institution of marriage in that light before this moment, but I will concede that you
    have a point.”
    “Only consider the brilliance of St. Merryn’s tactics, sir. At the agency he was provided with an
    extensive selection of well educated ladies who all possessed the most excellent references and
    reputations above reproach. Rather than being obliged to dance with all of them and endure a series of
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    potentially dull conversations, he was, instead, able to conduct detailed interviews.”
    “Interviews.” Hathersage grinned. “How very clever.”
    “The beauty of the process is that it works both ways. The candidates for the position he offered were,
    in turn, able to question him as well. They were thus saved the necessity of having to amuse and entertain
    any number of elderly gentlemen who know nothing of Byron’s latest works and who are only looking for
    an attractive heiress who will provide them with an heir.”
    Hathersage brought her to a halt in the middle of the dance floor. For a terrible moment Elenora thought
    she had miscalculated badly and had initiated a complete