Affair (11 page)

Honoria was typical of many of the clients whom Charlotte assisted. She was nearing thirty and had never been married. After struggling to support herself since the age of seventeen, she had come into a small, respectable, and completely unexpected inheritance.

Predictably, a handful of suitors had materialized in the wake of the news of Honoria’s good fortune. She had dismissed most of them without hesitation. A governess learned early to be wary of a gentleman’s intentions. But one, William Adams, a widower in his early thirties with two children, had captivated her interest and, apparently, her heart.

As she had explained to Charlotte, the years she had spent instilling the principles of logic and sound reasoning into her young charges had given her a measure of hard-won wisdom and a healthy sense of caution. A friend who operated an agency for governesses had referred her to Charlotte.

“I’m delighted to have been of service,” Charlotte said. “Especially so in a case such as this where the results of our inquiries are positive.”

“I am so very fond of Mr. Adams.” Honoria blushed. “And the children are delightful. But you know how it is. Ladies of our advanced years must question a man’s intentions. After all, the world considers us well and truly on the shelf.”

On the shelf.

Charlotte sighed. She was already twenty-five. Where had the time gone? she wondered. It seemed only yesterday that she had been desperate to create a career that
would allow her to support herself and her sister. She had devoted all of her energy and passion to the task and somehow five years had gone by in the blink of an eye.

She did not regret having passed beyond what Society considered a marriageable age for a lady. Business had improved noticeably, in fact, after she began to look as though she were no longer fresh out of the schoolroom. But she could not help wondering now just what she had missed never having known the thrill of passion.

The sense of wistfulness startled her. She was not lonely. She took great satisfaction in her work. She had her independence. What more could she truly want? Perhaps she had, indeed, been reading too much poetry lately, she thought.

Nevertheless, she did not want Ariel to follow precisely the same path. The business was important and Ariel was keenly interested in it. But Charlotte did not want her sister to sacrifice everything to it, as she had done. There was no longer such a pressing need. They had sufficient income to keep them in comfortable, if not luxurious, circumstances. If her plans to attract clients from the Polite World proved successful, a bit of luxury would even be possible.

She would give a great deal to ensure that Ariel had an opportunity to experience some of the innocent pleasures of young womanhood. Such pleasures should have been part of her inheritance. Those advanced years that Honoria had mentioned came all too quickly.

With the ease of long habit, Charlotte pushed aside the intrusive thoughts. She forced herself to concentrate on her client.

“A sensible, intelligent woman must be cautious in a situation such as this, Miss Patterson,” she said briskly.

“After all, it is not as though I am a beauty,” Honoria
said in the practical tone of a woman who has long since accepted the facts of life.

Nor am I
, Charlotte thought with a fresh twinge of unease. Last night Baxter’s passion had clearly been induced by the excitement they had shared. She had to be prepared for the possibility that he would no longer find her so alluring now that the stimulating effects of danger had dissipated.

“And what with this recent inheritance from my cousin,” Honoria continued, “well, I’m sure you comprehend why I felt the need to make inquiries into Mr. Adams’s background.”

“I understand.”

“I never expected to marry. Indeed, I had convinced myself that I was quite content with my life now that I am financially independent. But Mr. Adams came along and suddenly I saw other possibilities. We share a great many interests.”

“I’m delighted for you.”

This was not the first time that one of Charlotte’s clients had become excessively talkative after receiving good news. Initially, the ladies who sought out her services tended to be tight-lipped and extremely reticent. They were invariably stiff with tension when they first sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. Teacups rattled against saucers. Gloved hands fluttered anxiously. Expressions were solemn.

When the news was bad, tears usually flowed. Charlotte kept a pile of linen handkerchiefs in one of her desk drawers for such unhappy occasions.

A favorable report, however, frequently induced a mild euphoria. It made some clients want to chatter endlessly about the recently verified virtues of their suitors.

Generally speaking, Charlotte simply listened and
made encouraging noises. Satisfied clients made excellent, very discreet references. She could afford to be generous with her time during the final interview.

But this afternoon, Charlotte had an inexplicable urge to do the talking. “I am happy for you, Miss Patterson. And pleased that I was able to confirm your good opinion of Mr. Adams. But you must realize that there is always some risk for a lady when it comes to marriage.”

Honoria gave her a quizzical look. “Risk?”

“I have done my best to make certain that Mr. Adams is not a drunkard. He is not given to outrageous wagers. He does not frequent brothels. He has a reliable income and he appears to possess a stable, calm temperament.”

Honoria glowed. “All in all, a wonderful gentleman.”

“Yes. But you do realize that I cannot absolutely guarantee that Mr. Adams will remain such a model of masculine perfection after the wedding.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Charlotte leaned forward impulsively. “He could decide to abandon you and his children next year in order to go off in search of adventure in the South Seas. Or he might grow bored with his new life as a husband and take to drinking too much wine. He may suffer a siege of melancholy that will cause him to become extremely unpleasant. There are any number of things that can go wrong in a marriage.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that is true.” Honoria shifted uneasily in her chair. Her gaze became wary. “I realize that there can be no guarantees in a situation such as this.”

“Precisely. Yet you choose to go forth along the path that leads toward marriage.”

Honoria frowned. “You seem a bit agitated of a sudden, Miss Arkendale. Is something wrong?”

“I am merely wondering why you are so set on marrying Mr. Adams. It is not as if there is no alternative.”

“I told you, none of the other gentlemen interested me in the least.”

“That is not what I meant by alternative. Miss Patterson, may I ask you a question that is of a somewhat personal nature?”

Honoria glanced at the door, as if gauging the distance. “What is it you wish to know, Miss Arkendale?”

“Forgive me, but I cannot help wondering why you do not consider the possibility of a discreet liaison with Mr. Adams. Why hazard the dangers of marriage?”

Honoria stared at her. For an instant Charlotte was afraid that she had offended her in an unforgivable fashion. Silently she cursed her impulsiveness. Business was business, after all. She could not afford to go about horrifying her clients.

“Have an affair, do you mean?” Honoria asked with a refreshing candor.

Charlotte flushed. “It would seem to be an obvious solution. Granted, a young lady could not engage in a romantic liaison without bringing scandal down on her head, but a woman of, ah, our mature years has more freedom. So long as she exercises discretion, of course.”

Honoria regarded Charlotte with a thoughtful expression. Then an odd little smile curved her mouth. “Perhaps you have been engaged in your present career a trifle too long, Miss Arkendale.”

“What do you mean?”

“It strikes me that the business of making inquiries into gentlemen’s backgrounds may have given you a rather cynical view of the world and of gentlemen, in particular. Perhaps you have lost sight of the reason why a
lady would choose to make such inquiries in the first place.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“An affair may do very well for some people.” Honoria adjusted the strings of her bonnet and got to her feet. “But Mr. Adams and I are both looking for a good deal more.”

“I do not understand.”

“It is difficult to put into words, Miss Arkendale. If you do not intuitively comprehend the answer to your own question, I doubt that I can explain it to you. Suffice it to say that one enters marriage with hope.”

“Hope?”

“And trust. And a vision of the future.” Honoria gave her a pitying glance. “An affair cannot offer any of that, can it? By its very nature it is an extremely limited connection. If you will excuse me, I must be on my way. I thank you again for your services.”

Charlotte jumped to her feet, driven by the questions bubbling forth inside her. She suddenly wanted to know what Honoria Patterson sought in marriage that could possibly make it worth the dreadful risk of finding oneself shackled to a man such as Winterbourne.

There were even worse possibilities, she reminded herself. Possibilities that sprang straight from the heart of a nightmare. What could make it worth the risk of binding oneself to a monster such as the creature who had slithered in the shadows of the hall outside Ariel’s bedchamber five years ago?

Charlotte realized that Honoria had paused at the door. Her expression was one of grave concern.

“Are you feeling ill, Miss Arkendale?”

“No, not at all.” Charlotte drew a deep, steadying breath. What on earth was the matter with her? she wondered.
She reached out and braced herself by planting both of her hands flat on her desk. With an act of will she produced what she hoped was a businesslike smile. “My apologies. I shall summon my housekeeper to see you out.”

A sharp knock interrupted Charlotte just as she reached for the velvet bell pull. The door of the study opened.

Mrs. Witty’s majestic form loomed grandly. “Mr. St. Ives is here to see you, ma’am. Says he has an appointment.”

Charlotte’s morbid thoughts and unanswered questions vanished in a heartbeat. Baxter was there. She tried and failed to suppress the little burst of delight that flowered inside her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Witty. Miss Patterson was just leaving. Will you see her out, please?”

Mrs. Witty stood back and looked expectantly at Honoria. “Yes, ma’am.”

Honoria went out into the hall with a cheerful spring in her step that had not been present when she had arrived a short while earlier.

It occurred to Charlotte that she had just been presented with a golden opportunity to conduct another experiment on Baxter.

“Oh, Miss Patterson, a moment if you please.” Charlotte hurried around the corner of her desk and went to the doorway of the study. She peered out into the hall.

Baxter stood there, enveloped in the unshakable aura of limitless calm that Charlotte found both intriguing and disturbing. Others might interpret his self-possessed air as the patience of a naturally staid, rather boring individual, but she knew it was something else entirely. It was a manifestation of his inner strength and self-mastery.

She drew in a little breath at the sight of him. He was dressed in a severely cut dark blue coat that, although a bit wrinkled, nevertheless revealed the powerful line of his shoulders. His plainly tied cravat, conservative breeches, and boots suited him, she thought. Fashion was clearly unimportant to him. He was a man of deeper sensibilities.

His gaze met hers at that moment. His eyes glinted behind the lenses of his spectacles. She had the uncomfortable impression that he knew precisely what she was thinking. She felt the rush of warmth into her cheeks and was thoroughly annoyed. She was a lady of
advanced years
and far too much a woman of the world to blush, she told herself.

“Was there something else, Miss Arkendale?” Honoria asked politely.

Charlotte took a single step out into the hall. “Before you leave, Miss Patterson, may I present Mr. St. Ives?” She paused as Honoria turned toward Baxter. “He is my man-of-affairs.”

“Mr. St. Ives,” Honoria murmured.

“Miss Patterson.” Baxter inclined his head in a short, brusque manner.

Charlotte watched Honoria’s face very carefully. There was no trace of surprise or curiosity or anything else to indicate that she suspected Baxter of being something other than what he was supposed to be, an ordinary man of business.

Amazing, Charlotte thought. She caught herself just as she was about to shake her head and smiled at Honoria instead. “Mr. St. Ives is of great assistance to me. I do not know what I would do without him.”

Baxter’s eyes glinted. “You flatter me, Miss Arkendale.”

“Not in the least, Mr. St. Ives. You are invaluable.”

“I’m delighted to hear you say so.”

Honoria gave both of them a vague smile. “If you will excuse me, I have a number of calls to make.” She turned and went out the front door without a backward glance.

Charlotte waited until Mrs. Witty had closed the door. Then she stepped back into her study and waved Baxter into her sanctum. “Do come in, Mr. St. Ives. We have much to discuss.”

Baxter walked across the hall to join her. “You do not yet know the half of it, Miss Arkendale.”

She ignored the remark to glance at the housekeeper. “Would you please bring us a fresh tea tray, Mrs. Witty?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Witty went down the hall to the kitchen.

Charlotte closed the door and whirled around to face Baxter. “Miss Patterson did not even hesitate at the introduction. She obviously accepted you as my man-of-affairs without so much as a qualm.”

“I told you that I would have no difficulty playing the role.” His mouth twisted slightly. “You are the only one who has ever questioned my striking ability to masquerade as a potato pudding.”

The grim tone of his voice brought her up short. “What on earth is the matter, sir?”

He went to stand at the window. “Last night after I left you, I did a great deal of thinking.”

“So did I.”

“I doubt that we came to similar conclusions.”