The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress by Victoria Alexander

talking about Mr. . . . What is your name?”
    â€œFairchild, miss. Mr. Cameron Fairchild.” He swept an overly dramatic bow. “And I am at your service.”
    â€œOf course you are.” She scoffed. “I knew it the moment I saw you.”
    â€œKnew what?” Caution sounded in Clara’s voice.
    â€œThis is the man who has been following us.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You see, Clara, Mr. Fairchild is a private investigator.” She narrowed her eyes. “A watchdog.”

Chapter Five
    Cam stared at the short bundle of pretty, blond indignation. “I’m what?”
    â€œHe’s what?” Miss West said at precisely the same time.
    â€œIt’s obvious to me that he has been hired by Jackson to keep an eye on me. To make certain I stay out of harm’s way. To keep me from doing anything that might be deemed scandalous. Or interesting.” Miss Merryweather huffed. “I can think of no other reason why he would be following us.”
    â€œWhy else indeed?” Miss West shot him a scathing look.
    â€œTell me, Mr. Fairchild”—Miss Merryweather glared—“am I wrong? Because if I am, I want to know this very instant why you have been skulking around the past few days. Following us everywhere we go. And I think the police would like to know as well.” She poked him with a pointed finger. “Go on then. Are you up to no good?”
    â€œI assure you my intentions are not dishonorable.” It was the first thing that came to mind and it was the truth as far as it went.
    â€œAnd have you been engaged to watch my every move?”
    â€œI . . . um . . . well . . .” He struggled to find the right words. Her accusation as well as her appearance left him nearly speechless. He hadn’t yet been close enough to get a good look at her face; Miss Merryweather was neither old nor ugly but quite lovely. Her features were delicate, her creamy skin heighted by a blush of annoyance, a few delightful freckles scattered over a pert little nose, and she had perhaps the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. In fact delicious was the adjective that came to mind. “I can’t really say.”
    â€œNo, of course you can’t.” She cast him a disgusted look and moved to the door. “Secrecy is a tenet of your profession, isn’t it?”
    Cam nodded slowly. He still wasn’t sure what he should say, but at the moment absolutely nothing seemed like a good idea.
    â€œThis is exactly what Jackson threatened to do. And apparently, in spite of my objections, exactly what he’s done. He said he didn’t like leaving with no one to watch over me. So much for his belief in my competence.” The door opened and she swept inside. She glanced back at him. “Come in, Mr. Fairchild. I am not finished with you yet.”
    â€œNor am I,” Miss West said under her breath.
    Cam followed the women into the house. This was certainly not his original idea but it might serve him well.
    â€œI should have known better than to think, even for a moment, Jackson would accept my wishes. He gave in entirely too quickly.” Miss Merryweather nodded at the footman who had opened the door and continued without pause in an impressive display of righteous anger and mis-assumption. “His sense of duty has always been extremely annoying. And the man refuses to accept that I am no longer his responsibility.” She removed her hat and cloak and thrust them at the footman, then spun on her heel and glared at Cam. “Tell me, Mr. Fairchild, were you given a list of things to watch out for?”
    â€œI . . . can’t say, miss.”
    â€œThat’s fast becoming annoying, Mr. Fairchild,” she said sharply, then drew a deep breath and turned to Miss West. “Clara, if you would be so good as to wait until Mr. Fairchild has removed his coat and hat, then please escort him into the parlor.” Miss