Affair (15 page)

His father had bound them together until Hamilton turned twenty-five. The scene was as vivid in his mind tonight as if the events had transpired yesterday. He had stood on one side of the massive four-poster bed. Maryann and Hamilton had stood on the opposite side.

“The time has come for me to say farewell to my two fine sons.” Arthur, the fourth Earl of Esherton, had gripped both Baxter’s and Hamilton’s hands. “I’m proud of both of you. You’re as different as night and day but you each carry my blood in your veins. Do you hear me, Hamilton?”

“Yes, Father.” Hamilton looked at Baxter, his eyes simmering with resentment.

The earl’s eyes switched to Baxter. “You’re Hamilton’s older brother. Never forget that.”

“I’m not likely to forget the fact that I’m related to him, sir.” Baxter was overcome by a strange sense of unreality. It was impossible to believe that the big, vital, larger-than-life man who had sired him was dying.

Esherton’s trembling hand tightened briefly on Baxter’s. “You’ve got a responsibility to him and his mother.”

“I doubt they’ll need anything from me.” Baxter felt the weakness in his father’s once-powerful fingers and had to blink back the dampness that threatened to film his eyes.

“You’re wrong,” Arthur whispered hoarsely. “Set it out in my will. You’ve got the sort of steady temperament it takes to handle money, Baxter. Damnation, son, you were born steady and reliable. Hamilton’s too young to
handle the estates. You’ll have to deal with things until he’s twenty-five.”

“No.” Maryann was the first to realize the full significance of what her husband had said. Her hand went to her throat. “My lord, what have you done?”

Arthur turned his head on the pillow to look up at her. In spite of his weakened state he managed to produce a shadow of the wicked Esherton grin. “You’re prettier now than the day I married you, m’dear.”

“Esherton, please. What have you done?”

“No need to fret, Maryann. I’ve put Baxter in charge of the family finances until Hamilton gets a bit older.”

Maryann’s shocked gaze met Baxter’s. “There is no need for such an arrangement.”

“Afraid there is. Hamilton’s got my hot blood in him, my sweet. He needs time to learn how to control it. Don’t know how my two sons turned out so damned different, but there you are.” Esherton broke off on a racking cough.

Baxter felt his father slip a little further away into the waiting darkness. “Sir—”

Arthur recovered from the coughing fit and fell back, exhausted, against the pillows. “I know what I’m doing. Hamilton’s going to need your guidance and advice for a few years, Baxter.”

“Father, please,” Hamilton whispered. “I don’t need Baxter to handle my money and make decisions for me. I’m old enough to take care of the Esherton lands.”

“Just for a few more years.” Arthur gave a hoarse chuckle. “Give yourself a chance to sow your wild oats. Who better to keep an eye on you than your older brother, eh?”

“But he’s not really my brother,” Hamilton insisted. “He’s just my half brother.”

“You’re brothers, by God.” For a moment a measure of the earl’s old strength burned in his amber eyes. He looked fiercely at Baxter. “Do you understand me, son? You’re Hamilton’s brother. You have a responsibility to look after him. I want your oath on it.”

Baxter gripped his father’s hand. “I understand. Please, calm yourself, sir.”

“Your oath, by God.”

“You have it,” Baxter said quietly.

The earl relaxed. “Steady and clearheaded. Reliable as the sunrise.” He closed his eyes. “Knew I could depend on you to look after the family.”

Baxter shook himself free of the memories as Maryann came to a halt in front of him.

“Good evening, Baxter.”

“Maryann.”

“You have not responded to my requests for a meeting. I have sent three notes.”

“I’ve been occupied with other matters,” Baxter said with the icy politeness he had cultivated years ago for just such occasions. “If this is about money, you know I gave the bankers instructions to honor any reasonable request for funds.”

“This has nothing to do with money. If you don’t mind, I would prefer to discuss the matter in private. Shall we go out into the gardens?”

“Some other time, perhaps. I intend to dance the next waltz with my fiancée.”

Maryann frowned. “It’s true that you are engaged, then?”

“Yes.” Baxter caught sight of Charlotte in Lennox’s arms. They were both moving very briskly around the floor. Stamina.

“I see. I suppose I should congratulate you.”

“There’s no need for you to go out of your way.”

Maryann’s lips tightened. “Baxter, please, I must speak with you about Hamilton. I am extremely concerned. You know very well that your father told me that if I ever needed your help, you would assist me.”

Baxter turned his head slowly to meet Maryann’s desperate eyes and knew that he had no choice in the matter. He had given his father his oath.

He inclined his head a bare half inch in acceptance of the inevitable. “I believe you are correct, madam. It would no doubt be best if we held this conversation out in the gardens.”

Seven

“I have heard that you were well acquainted with poor Mrs. Heskett.” Charlotte realized to her chagrin that she sounded a trifle breathless. It was not easy keeping up with Lord Lennox. He set a demanding pace on the dance floor and she was definitely out of practice. “Dreadful thing, her murder. Makes one wonder what the world is coming to, does it not?”

“It certainly does. A shocking incident.” Lennox whipped Charlotte around in a grand, gliding turn that took them halfway across the floor. “You knew her also, did you?”

“We were not terribly close, but we had several conversations. She, uh, mentioned you, my lord.”

“Very fond of her, I was. Wanted to marry her, doncha know. But, alas, she turned down my offer.
Couldn’t believe it when I heard she’d been felled by a damned villain. Quite chilling.”

“Indeed. You said you were fond of her?”

“Drusilla? Lord, yes. Enjoyed her company immensely. A real goer, Drusilla was. That woman had stamina, if y’know what I mean.”

“She used to say much the same about you, my lord.”

“Did she now?” Lennox looked briefly pleased. “Glad to hear it. I’m going to miss the lady, even if she did reject my offer of marriage.” He winked. “Dru made it clear that she wouldn’t be averse to the occasional bounce in bed after she settled on the business of a husband, doncha know.”

“I see.”

“I was to call on her that very night, you know.”

Charlotte looked up quickly. “You went to see her the night she was killed?”

“No, no. I was supposed to pay a visit that evening. Got a message at the last minute informing me that she was ill and would not be able to receive me. Often wondered what would have happened if I’d gone to her house that evening.”

“Indeed.” Charlotte saw that Lennox had her on a collision course with an elderly man in a blue coat and a woman gowned in pale lavender silk. “Lord Lennox, perhaps we should—”

“Dru had a head on her shoulders.” Lennox executed a nimble move that narrowly avoided the other dancers. “Understood that marriage didn’t have to interfere with a spot of fun now and again.”

“Indeed.” Charlotte caught a flash of lavender silk out of the corner of her eye. She gave Lennox a smile of relief and tried to think of how best to pursue her inquiries.

The problem was that Lennox gave every appearance
of being exactly what her earlier investigations had indicated, good-natured and financially stable. She could not envision him as a murderer. Yet Drusilla had specifically mentioned his name in her last note.

“I see your fiancé headed toward the gardens with Lady Esherton,” Lennox announced as he swung Charlotte into another galloping turn. “Don’t envy him. The old man left St. Ives in a devil of a fix when he put him in charge of the family purse strings.”

Charlotte recalled what Baxter had said about managing his half brother’s income as well as his own. She had assumed the situation existed simply because Baxter was good at finances. “You mean the old earl actually stipulated in his will that Mr. St. Ives was to control the fortune?”

“It’s no great secret that old Esherton made Baxter his executor until Hamilton is five-and-twenty. Sound thinking on Esherton’s part, if you ask me. Anyone can see that young Hamilton needs some time to settle. Takes after his father, he does. The old earl was a neck-or-nothing rakehell in his youth.” Lennox paused. “Come to think of it, he didn’t change much over the years. He was a rakehell until the day he died.”

“I see.”

“But he wasn’t foolish when it came to the fortune,” Lennox continued. “By the time he inherited it, he was nearly thirty and he managed the estates nicely, indeed. Baxter’s got his father’s head for that sort of thing and the old man knew it. But it does put St. Ives into an uncomfortable spot. Bound to be a lot of resentment in a situation such as that.”

“Indeed.”

Lennox’s expression grew unexpectedly troubled. “Hamilton ain’t the only young man who’s runnin’ a bit
wild these days. Seems as if the whole lot of the young bloods are feeling their oats. Don’t mind telling you that my own son, Norris, has given me a few shudders of late. He and Hamilton are friends, doncha know.”

“I suppose they’re both into the usual bloody-minded occupations of young males,” Charlotte said carefully. “Driving too fast, drinking too much, risking their necks in silly dares?”

“Wish that were the whole of it,” Lennox said. “Mind you, I’m all in favor of a young man sowing his wild oats early in life. The devil knows, I got into my share of trouble when I was that age. Nearly got myself killed in a duel over a little high-flyer of an opera dancer on one occasion. Went a few rounds with a bruiser named Bull Keeley. Smuggled a bit of French brandy. That sort of thing.”

“I see.”

“Just the old-fashioned, innocent pleasures of youth.” Lennox sent them whirling into another turn. “But these days becoming a man seems to be a riskier business than it was when I was a lad.”

“What do you mean?”

“The gaming hells are more dangerous for one thing,” Lennox said very seriously. “Friend of Norris’s lost his estates in a place called The Green Table the other night. Young Crossmore went home and put a bullet in his head.”

“How terrible.”

“Warned Norris that if he didn’t watch his step, I’d send him on an extended tour of the Continent.”

“Has your threat worked?”

“Norris knows I won’t tolerate any nonsense. Unfortunately for young Hamilton, his father ain’t around to
pull in the reins. Left the job to St. Ives along with the responsibility for the fortune.”

With a final flourish, the music stopped. Charlotte was panting. She gave Lennox another curtsy and a bright smile. “Thank you, my lord, I needed the exercise.”

“Builds stamina,” he assured her as he led her off the floor. “Can I fetch you a glass of lemonade or champagne?”

“No, thank you, I believe I’ll go find Lady Trengloss.”

“Ah, yes, the lovely Rosalind. Charming woman.” Lennox looked briefly wistful. “Imagine she misses her sister.”

“Mr. St. Ives’s mother?”

“Yes. Emma died four years ago. In their younger days, she and Rosalind kept things lively in Society. Never a dull moment. Emma was always the wilder of the two, though. Her affair with Esherton lasted until the day she died. I tell you, it’s damned hard to believe that St. Ives is the offspring of that pair.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Young Baxter’s temperament is the complete opposite of his parents’. Oh, he takes after Esherton in some ways. No mistaking those eyes, of course. And he got his mother’s dark hair. But he lacks Emma’s sense of humor and dash and he didn’t get even a modicum of the St. Ives style, sad to say.”

“The St. Ives style?”

“You know what they say about the men of the St. Ives line. They do everything with style. Hamilton’s living up to the family heritage but, I vow, Baxter looks as if he makes his livin’ as someone’s man-of-affairs.”

“Looks can be deceiving, sir. Please excuse me.”

“Of course, of course. Enjoyed the dance.”

Charlotte turned and walked toward the French doors, which stood open to admit the evening air into the overheated ballroom.

Outside she found the wide terrace lit with colorful lanterns. Here and there couples murmured and laughed discreetly in the shadows. Beyond lay the night-darkened expanse of the gardens.

There was no sign of Baxter in the immediate vicinity but Charlotte was almost certain that he had not come back into the ballroom.

There was just enough moonlight to make out the looming shapes of clipped hedges and thickly clustered bushes. Baxter was out there somewhere. He had no taste for Society. It would be just like him to retreat to the solitude of the gardens until it was time to leave.

She went down the stone steps and started along the path that wound into the heart of the gardens. Her soft kid slippers made no sound on the old bricks. The night was crisp. She folded her arms and hugged herself a little to ward off the chill. She would not be able to stay out there long without her cloak.