The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress by Victoria Alexander Page B

Cam—“Mr. Channing, your employer . . .”
    Cam nodded. Who? The name was vaguely familiar . . . Of course. Jackson Channing was the newfound American heir to the Earl of Briston. Everyone in London had been talking about it. The question now was what was the connection between that American and this American? Although it must be close if she was staying here at Channing House.
    â€œ. . . hired you without my knowledge and against my wishes . . .” Miss Merryweather smiled a distinctly smug sort of smile. “I have decided to make your job easier, Mr. Fairchild.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Suspicion rang in Miss West’s voice.
    â€œNow that we know who our mysterious stranger is and what he’s up to, it seems a shame to waste him.” She glanced at Miss West. “Don’t you agree?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Miss West said slowly.
    â€œGiven today’s incident with the theft of my purse, it strikes me that it would not be ill advised to be accompanied by a gentleman from now on. After all, as we learned today, two ladies alone present a target for any miscreant who happens along.”
    â€œRegardless,” Miss West began. “I don’t think—”
    â€œYou said it yourself about the dangers to be found on London streets. He’s going to be dogging our every step no matter what we do, anyway. We might as well make use of him.” Miss Merryweather considered him coolly. “What do you say, Mr. Fairchild? Will you come out of the shadows and accompany us openly or do you prefer to hide in doorways in the cold?”
    â€œI have never been overly fond of doorways and it is exceptionally cold outside,” he said with a smile. This was perfect, absolutely perfect. Miss Merryweather was indeed going to make his job, and his life, much easier.
    â€œGood.” She nodded. “Clara, would you give us a moment alone? Perhaps you could write that note we discussed earlier today. You remember, to the gentleman who—”
    â€œYes, of course,” Miss West said quickly, then glanced at him and frowned. “Are you sure this is wise?”
    â€œOh, I’m certain I’ll be perfectly fine. After all, his job is to keep me safe.” Miss Merryweather’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Fairchild?”
    He nodded. It did seem the less he said aloud, the better.
    â€œVery well, but I’ll be no more than a few minutes.” A warning sounded in Miss West’s voice.
    â€œI doubt we’ll need much more than a few minutes.” Miss Merryweather’s gaze locked on his. “However, Mr. Fairchild and I do have a few things we need to discuss.”
    Miss West shot him a hard look and reluctantly left the room.
    â€œShe’s probably listening at the door, you know,” Miss Merryweather said. “I would be.” She crossed the room, the dog at her heels, and seated herself on a sofa. The terrier immediately jumped up beside her, rested its head on her lap but kept his gaze trained on Cam. Cam suspected the dog was not to be trusted, small or not.
    Miss Merryweather indicated a nearby chair. “Do sit down, Mr. Fairchild.”
    He sat.
    â€œFirst of all, in spite of Mr. Channing’s belief that I need a”—her jaw tightened—“a watchdog.” The terrier growled softly and she absently rubbed his head. “I can assure you I am neither helpless nor stupid.”
    â€œI never thought otherwise.”
    â€œYour employer obviously did.” She studied him for a long, considering moment and he resisted the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. No, it was apparent, at least to him, that she was far more clever than her delightful appearance might imply. “Given that your surveillance of my activities is no longer clandestine, I was wondering if you would consider leaving Mr. Channing’s employment in favor of working directly for me. Your