Affair (19 page)

“How fortunate that you were not alone when you heard the villain in the hall.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not tell me about this the instant I walked through the door?” Ariel asked.

“As no harm had been done, I concluded that there was no point in waiting up in order to tell you the story.” And no reason to mention that after Baxter had left, she had lain awake for hours listening to every creak and groan of the house, Charlotte thought.

When she had not been aware of every sound, she had kept herself occupied with thoughts of Baxter. His mood had changed after the business with the intruder. His steely self-mastery had reasserted itself. There had been no further discussion of an affair.

She did not know whether to be vastly relieved or gravely disappointed.

“It was quite late when Lady Trengloss brought me home in her carriage,” Ariel admitted. “I do not believe that I have ever stayed up until dawn before in my life. Her ladyship tells me that during the Season most of the ton is up until sunrise.”

Charlotte spread gooseberry jam on her toast. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

A glowing warmth bloomed in Ariel’s cheeks. “I had a wonderful evening. It was as if I stepped into another world.”

“It is a world Mother greatly enjoyed.” Charlotte felt a pang of the familiar wistfulness that she always got when she recalled the old memories of the time before Winterbourne. “Do you remember how much Mama loved the Season?”

“She looked so very beautiful when she went out in the evenings.” Ariel’s eyes softened. “And Father was so handsome. I remember how I loved to stand at the window and watch them drive off together in the carriage. I
imagined that they were a prince and a princess in a fairy tale.”

A short silence descended on the morning room. Charlotte shook off the past. She sensed Ariel doing the same. There was no point reminding each other of how the fairy tale had ended.

“I noticed that you danced with the Earl of Esherton at the Hiltson ball,” Charlotte said.

Ariel blushed. “I danced with him again later in the evening at the Todd soiree. He is an excellent dancer. And his conversation is most interesting.”

“He is a fine-looking man.”

“Yes, he is. And a perfect gentleman. I only wish I could have danced every waltz with him. But that would have caused gossip, of course.”

“Of course.”

“He went off to his club around three so I did not see him after that.”

The happy excitement in Ariel’s eyes worried Charlotte for some reason. She was not certain what to say. She did not even know if she ought to say anything. Her sister was a sensible young woman, far more levelheaded than most her age. This experience of the Season was precisely what she had wished for Ariel. Surely there was no harm in encouraging her to enjoy herself. The adventure would end all too soon.

It occurred to Charlotte that she could give herself the same advice. A pleasant warmth suffused her whole body as memories of the passionate embrace returned. The prospect of an affair with Baxter compelled her imagination.

And then she recalled how cool and remote he had been when he had asked her to become his paramour, how
he had deliberately seduced her on the sofa while holding himself in check.

She had been the subject of an experiment last night, Charlotte reminded herself. She did not care for the feeling.

Mrs. Witty stuck her head into the morning room. “A lady to see you, Miss Charlotte. Says she’s here on urgent business.”

“A client?” Charlotte glanced at the clock and frowned. “It’s only eleven. I do not have any appointments until this afternoon.”

“Could be this particular client is a bit more desperate than most.” Mrs. Witty raised her brows. “She appears to be in immediate need of a husband, if you take my meaning.”

Charlotte was startled. “Do you mean she’s increasing?”

“Pregnant as a ewe in spring,” Mrs. Witty said cheerfully. “If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t be wastin’ any time making inquiries into the background of any man who’d made an offer. I’d take him up on it before he could change his mind.”

Ariel looked up. “I could interview her if you like, Charlotte.”

Mrs. Witty looked at Charlotte. “She specifically asked for you, Miss Charlotte. Said she couldn’t talk to anyone else.”

“Show her into the study, Mrs. Witty.” Charlotte rose from the table. “Tell her that I shall join her presently.”

“Yes, Miss Charlotte.” Mrs. Witty started to withdraw.

“One more thing,” Charlotte said quickly. “I have a favor to ask of you, Mrs. Witty. We know that Mrs. Heskett’s
staff was out of the house on the night of the murder but I wonder if it might be worth a chat with her housekeeper. She may be able to tell us something of her employer’s plans for that evening. Do you think you could locate her?”

Mrs. Witty nodded. “I’ll have a go at it.”

“I shall be in here if you need me, Charlotte.” Ariel went back to the sideboard to refill her plate. “Lady Trengloss says that I am to fortify myself for tonight’s round of social affairs. She claims that the Season requires a lady to have stamina.”

“Lady Trengloss is no doubt an authority on the subject.”

Charlotte went out the door and down the hall. She paused in front of the mirror to make certain that she presented a professional, competent appearance and then she walked into the study.

The lady seated in front of the desk appeared to be about Charlotte’s age. She was quite pretty, with light brown hair and soft features.

She was also quite pregnant. A blue pelisse was stretched taut over a high, rounded belly.

“Miss Arkendale?” The woman looked at Charlotte with anxious eyes much reddened from recent tears.

“Yes.” Charlotte gave the woman a reassuring smile as she gently closed the study door. “I’m afraid that my housekeeper did not supply me with your name.”

“Because I did not give it to her.” The woman dabbed at her eyes with a damp handkerchief “My name is Juliana Post. And I am here because I heard rumors that you were engaged to Mr. Baxter St. Ives. Is it true?”

Charlotte halted midway across the study. “Why, yes. Why do you ask?”

Juliana began to sob into her handkerchief. “Because
I was his last paramour. It is his babe I carry. His bastard. Baxter has left me a ruined woman, Miss Arkendale. I thought you should know what sort of man he is.”

Dumbfounded, Charlotte stared at Juliana’s bent head. “What on earth are you saying?”

“He promised me marriage, Miss Arkendale.” Juliana rose to her feet. “He said we would be wed. That is how he convinced me to submit to his embraces. But when he learned that I was pregnant, he cast me off. I have no family. I do not know what will become of me.”

“If this is an attempt to obtain money from me—”

“No, no, it is not.” Sobbing, Juliana rushed toward the door.

“Miss Post, wait, I have some questions to ask you.”

“I cannot bear to talk about it.” Juliana paused in the doorway and looked back at Charlotte with bitter eyes. “I came here today because I felt it was my duty to warn you that St. Ives is a bastard not only by birth, but by temperament. I am lost, Miss Arkendale. But it is not too late to save yourself. Take care or you will meet the same bad end.”

Nine

Charlotte heard the front door slam shut behind Juliana Post. She hurried out into the hall and peered through the window. She was in time to watch Juliana climb into a hackney carriage with an agility that was amazing in a woman who was so far advanced in her pregnancy.

Charlotte whirled around and seized a deep-brimmed straw bonnet from a wall hook. She grabbed the serviceable woolen coat that hung beside it.

Mrs. Witty emerged from the kitchens. She dried her hands on the neat white apron that covered her new bombazine gown and frowned at Charlotte. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I’m going to follow that woman who just left.” Charlotte yanked open the front door and started down the steps. “I want to see where she goes.”

“This is madness,” Mrs. Witty called from the doorway.
“She left in a carriage. You cannot hope to keep up with her on foot.”

“The traffic is so slow in this part of town that I should be able to keep the carriage in sight if I hurry.” Charlotte jammed her bonnet down onto her head and started to run.

“But you may have to follow her for a great distance,” Mrs. Witty yelled.

Charlotte paid no attention. Several heads turned to watch as she flew along the walkway. She ignored the assortment of amused expressions and disapproving looks. She was well aware that those who knew her already thought her rather odd. Strangers would only shrug at the sight of a woman rushing through the throng of delivery carts and farmers’ wagons that crowded the streets at this hour of the day.

The lumbering hackney turned the corner at the far end of the street. Charlotte realized that if she cut through the park, she would be able to shorten the distance that separated her from the vehicle.

She turned and dashed through the iron gates that marked the entrance to the small green square. Clutching her bonnet, she emerged, breathless, at the opposite gate.

Mrs. Witty had been right. She could not go on much farther at this pace. Juliana’s carriage was gaining ground.

She scanned the street with a sense of growing desperation. A flower cart driven by a youth of about fifteen stood midway down the block. She raced toward it, waving to get the boy’s attention.

He glanced at her with a curious expression as she reached the cart. “Did ye want to buy some flowers, ma’am?”

“No, but I will pay you well if you will take me up and follow that hackney.”

The boy frowned. “Don’t know if me pa would want me doin’ that, ma’am.”

“I will make it worth your while.” Charlotte hiked up her skirts and started to climb aboard. “I will purchase every flower on your cart if you will help me.”

“Well …”

“Just think, you will be free for the rest of the day and when you return home this afternoon, your pa will be happy enough when he sees you’ve sold every bloom.”

The boy still looked dubious. “You’ll be wantin’ every single flower?”

“Yes, indeed.” Charlotte sat down and gave the young man an encouraging smile. “I love flowers.”

The boy hesitated only a second longer. Then he shrugged. “Me pa always did say the fancy was peculiar.”

He flapped the reins vigorously. Startled, the plump pony broke into a brisk trot. Charlotte strove to catch her breath as the cart jolted forward in pursuit of the hackney.

Fifteen minutes later the flower cart rounded another corner in a modest neighborhood. Charlotte watched Juliana’s carriage come to a halt in front of a small house.

“This is far enough,” Charlotte said. “You need not wait for me. I shall find my own way home.”

“ ’Ere, now, what about me flowers?”

“I have not forgotten.” Charlotte collected her skirts and scrambled down from the cart. “I shall give you my direction. Take all the flowers there and inform my housekeeper that I told you she was to purchase every stem.”

“All right, then.” The boy eyed her. “Are ye sure ye don’t want me to wait for ye?”

“No. I shall be able to find a hackney.” She smiled and rattled off the information he needed to locate her town house. “It is very kind of you to be concerned, but I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

“Whatever ye say.” The boy clucked at the pony.

Charlotte waited until the flower cart had clattered off down the street before she walked toward the small house Juliana had entered. Mentally she composed a variety of ways to demand an explanation for the woman’s actions. She finally decided that she would be obliged to wait for inspiration until she was inside.

She went up the steps and banged the knocker. There was silence and then came the sound of heavy footsteps. A moment later a stout-looking housekeeper opened the door.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Please inform your mistress that I have come to call,” Charlotte said firmly.

The housekeeper peered at her suspiciously. “Did ye have an appointment?”

An odd question, Charlotte thought. A housekeeper might inquire as to whether or not a caller was expected but the word
appointment
was used for business visits. Her own clients had appointments.

“Yes,” Charlotte said smoothly. “I do have an appointment.”

“Bit early,” the woman grumbled as she stood back and opened the door. “Miss Post don’t usually see her clients until the afternoon.”

“She made an exception for me.” Charlotte stepped swiftly through the opening before the housekeeper could have second thoughts. “It’s rather urgent.”

The housekeeper gave her a quizzical look but did not comment. She closed the door. “May I have your name?”

Charlotte seized upon the first name that sprang to mind. “Mrs. Witty.”

“Very well. This way, then. I’ll let Miss Post know that you’re here, Mrs. Witty.”

“Thank you.”

Charlotte glanced curiously around the hall as she followed the housekeeper. The woodwork gleamed from a recent waxing. The tile floor was clean and polished. The oak and ebony cabinet on the side was handsomely inlaid with brass. Juliana Post did not appear to be wealthy, but she certainly was not impoverished. In fact, for a ruined woman, she appeared to be doing very well for herself.