Affair (28 page)

“Such as his brother?”

“Well, yes.” Ariel sighed. “He seemed rather scornful of Mr. St. Ives’s interest in chemistry.”

“I see.” Charlotte pushed back the quilt and got out of bed. She went to stand at the window. “Baxter and I learned tonight that Hamilton and his friends are experimenting with mesmerism at their club.”

“What of it? Many people form clubs and societies in order to investigate scientific matters that interest them.”

“Yes, I know.” Charlotte touched the cold window glass with her fingertips. She did not know how to explain the strange fear and the unwilling fascination she had experienced earlier that night while observing the activities of The Green Table club. What she had seen had not been good. It had agitated her imagination to the point of bringing on the old nightmares. “But I fear Hamilton’s club may be somewhat unusual.”

“Charlotte, I do not mind telling you that I am becoming more and more concerned about this situation.”

“So am I.” It was a relief to say it aloud. Charlotte turned. “Baxter and I feel there may be a link between The Green Table and Drusilla Heskett’s death.”

“No.” Ariel got to her feet. “You cannot mean to
imply that Hamilton had anything to do with Mrs. Heskett’s murder. I will not believe it.”

“I’m not implying anything of the kind. But perhaps someone else in his club had a hand in it.”

“But the club members are all friends of his. Surely none of them would be involved in murder.”

“Does Hamilton know all of the club members well? There are several of them, you know. I counted a half dozen, at least, this evening. Perhaps one or two are not particularly close cronies of Hamilton’s.”

“Perhaps.” Ariel nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip. “I could no doubt determine if that is true. Would it help, do you think, if I asked him about his friends?”

Charlotte hesitated. “No. Let St. Ives handle it. They are brothers, after all.”

“Yes, but I fear there is very little affection between them.”

“Baxter was charged with responsibility for Hamilton. He will fulfill his obligations.”

“You sound very certain of that.”

Charlotte smiled wearily. “I am.”

Ariel watched her closely. “When I said a moment ago that I was becoming increasingly concerned about this matter, I was not referring only to the Heskett murder.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“Do not mistake me. I do worry about the investigation, but there is something else that alarms me just as much, if not more.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Are you falling in love with Mr. St. Ives?”

The question stole Charlotte’s breath. Several seconds ticked past before she recovered from the impact.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said softly.

“I feared as much,” Ariel whispered. “It seems that you had the right of it after all when you said that he was dangerous.”

T
ime moved with the thick, oozing quality of honey leaking from a broken pot. Baxter could see the flask of acid arcing toward him through the fiery shadows. He tried to get out of its path, but it was impossible to swim quickly through the flowing amber. All he could do was turn away and raise his arm to shield his eyes
.

The flask struck his shoulder. The acid ate quickly through the thin linen of his shirt. And then it was on his skin, burning with the flames of hell itself
.

He managed to reach the window. Below, the sea waited for him. He leaped into the darkness
.

Explosions roared through the laboratory, turning it into an inferno. An instant before the cold seas closed over his head, he heard Morgan’s voice
.

“
Do you believe in destiny, St. Ives?
”

And then there was only the crashing of the sea against the rocks
.

Baxter came fully awake in an instant, his pulse pounding in his veins. He felt the dampness on his back and for a horrifying instant he thought it was the acid.

He levered himself up, off the sofa, clawing at his shirt. And then he realized that it was his own sweat that had plastered the linen to his skin. He sank back down onto the cushions and rested his elbows on his knees.

He leaned forward, exhausted, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. He sought the center of himself, searching for the sense of control he needed.

The crashing waves still echoed in his head.

“Bloody hell, St. Ives. Get a grip on yourself.” Baxter exhaled slowly, deliberately, willing himself into the calm, detached state that served him so well.

The loud smashing noise sounded again. Not the nightmarish memory of seawater against rocks. A fist against the front door.

Baxter rose slowly to his feet, shoved his hands through his hair, and straightened his shirt. Anger coursed through him. He had not had the dream for a long while. He had hoped it had disappeared into the void forever.

“Open this door.”

Hamilton
.

Baxter remembered that Lambert had left the house to run various errands. He crossed the library, went out into the hall, and opened the front door.

Hamilton stood on the front step. His jaw was rigid. His eyes were narrowed to mere slits. He lifted his expensively gloved hand and revealed the crumpled sheet of foolscap that he held. “What is the meaning of this outrageous message?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“How dare you threaten to cut off my quarterly allowance if I do not dance attendance on you?” Hamilton slapped his stylish riding crop against his boot as he stalked into the hall. He snatched off his high-crowned hat and tossed it onto the table. “You have no right to restrict my income. Father told you to handle my investments until I turned twenty-five. He did not tell you to steal my inheritance.”

“Calm yourself. I have no intention of depriving you of your fortune.” Baxter waved a hand toward the library. “I simply need some information from you and I need it
rather quickly. Sit down. The sooner we have this conversation, the sooner you will be on your way.”

Hamilton threw him a suspicious glare and then he strode into the library and flung himself down onto a chair.

“Well?” he asked. “What is it you must know?”

“First, I should show you something that I discovered in a book.” Baxter went to the desk and picked up the small volume he had left lying there. He turned to the picture of the alchemical key. “Have you ever seen this drawing or its like?”

Hamilton glanced impatiently at the picture. He opened his mouth, obviously intending to dismiss it out of hand. But his eyes widened in shock. “Where the devil did you get this?”

“So you do recognize it.” Baxter closed the book. He leaned back against the edge of the desk and studied Hamilton’s angry face. “Something to do with your club, I presume?”

Hamilton tightened his fist around the riding crop. “What do you know of my club?”

“I am aware that you conduct experiments with animal magnetism. Mesmerism, some call it. And that you use ancient alchemical references and a drugging incense to set the stage, so to speak.”

Hamilton leaped to his feet. “How did you discover all this?”

Baxter shrugged. “I have my sources.”

“You have no right to spy on me. I have told you that what I choose to do in my club is none of your affair.”

“It may surprise you to know that I agree with you.”

“Then why the devil are we having this conversation?”

Baxter turned the book in his hands. “Because a picture
very similar to the one I just showed you appeared in a watercolor sketchbook belonging to Drusilla Heskett.”

Hamilton looked baffled. “Are you speaking of the Mrs. Heskett who was murdered recently?”

“Yes. I will be blunt, Hamilton. It’s possible that there is some connection between one of the members of your club and Drusilla Heskett’s death.”

“You cannot possibly know such a thing,” Hamilton exploded. “How dare you make accusations of that sort?”

“I’m not making accusations. I’m attempting to alert you to the possibility that there may be a connection here. That’s all.”

“I have had enough of this outrage.” Hamilton started for the door. “I will not tolerate your interference in my affairs. I may not possess my rightful fortune, but I am the Earl of Esherton, by God. I do not bow to the whims of a bastard.”

Baxter held himself motionless. With the skills he had honed over a lifetime, he concealed even the smallest flicker of a reaction. “There is one other small matter,
my lord.
”

Hamilton reddened in response to the icy politeness in Baxter’s voice. “I do not intend to answer any more of your blasted questions.”

“This is a simple one,” Baxter said very softly. “How well do you know Juliana Post?”

“Post?” Hamilton scowled. “I know of no one by that name.” He leveled the riding crop at Baxter. “I am warning you, St. Ives, stay out of my affairs. Is that quite clear?”

“I understand you very well. So did Father.” Baxter smiled wryly. “He always claimed that there was a great deal of himself in you.”

Hamilton’s mouth tightened. He looked briefly confused,
as if he had not expected such a mild response. Baxter had the impression that he was about to say something else. Instead, he swung around and made for the door.

Baxter remembered what Charlotte had said last night.
If there is a murderer in The Green Table club, your brother could be at risk
.

Another voice, his father’s this time, also echoed in his brain.
You will look after your brother after I’m gone. He’ll need some guidance for a while. Boy’s the very image of myself when I was his age. Hot-blooded and reckless. Make sure he doesn’t break his neck, Baxter
.

“Hamilton.”

“What is it now?” Hamilton glowered from the doorway.

“You are correct when you say that I have no right to interfere with your pursuits.” Baxter hesitated, choosing his words with care. “But for your mother’s sake and for the sake of the title that Father bequeathed to you, I trust you will exercise some degree of caution. It would be a pity if you got yourself killed before you could produce an heir.”

“I assure you, there is no danger for me at The Green Table. You are merely attempting to alarm me. You wish to make me uneasy in my friendships. It’s quite petty of you.”

“Do you think so?”

“You surely cannot expect me to believe that you’re genuinely concerned with my welfare.”

“Why not?” Baxter smiled thinly. “At least when you deal with me, you have the assurance of knowing that I have no reason to plot against you. After all, if you get yourself killed, the earldom doesn’t come to me. It goes to
our very distant, extremely obnoxious cousin in Northumberland.”

“I suspect you would somehow contrive to keep your hands on the money, though.” Hamilton stormed out into the hall, seized his hat, and reached for the front-door knob. “Where the devil is your butler, for God’s sake? Did you lose him, too? I don’t know why you cannot keep staff—” He broke off abruptly as he yanked open the door. “I beg your pardon, Miss Arkendale.”

“Lord Esherton,” Charlotte murmured.

Baxter frowned at the sound of her voice. He crossed the library and reached the doorway in time to see her rising from one of her graceful curtsies.

The familiar jolt of aching awareness sang through him at the sight of her. She was dressed in a green and white pelisse and a gown trimmed with green velvet ribbon. The wide brim of her matching straw bonnet framed her vivid eyes. Little corkscrew curls of dark red-brown hair bobbed in front of her small ears.

“Charlotte.” He started toward her. Then he saw the hackney coach that was standing in the street. “What the devil are you doing here at this hour? And why are you alone? You should have brought your housekeeper or your sister with you. I do not want you dashing about on your own like this anymore.”

Hamilton rolled his eyes in derision. “Ever the gracious host, St. Ives. One would think that you could come up with a more hospitable greeting for your fiancée.”

Baxter set his teeth. It occurred to him that Hamilton no doubt had a point.

Hamilton gave him a superior, sarcastic smile and then inclined his head over Charlotte’s gloved hand.

“I must tell you that if I were in your shoes, Miss Arkendale, I would definitely reconsider this engagement.
Baxter’s poor manners are hardly likely to improve after the marriage.”

Charlotte grinned as she stepped into the hall. “I shall bear your warning in mind, Lord Esherton. I hope I am not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” Hamilton shot Baxter another angry glare. “We have just finished our discussion.”

“Already?” Charlotte shot Baxter a quelling glance. But she was all smiles for Hamilton as she casually untied her bonnet strings. “Did he ask you about Juliana Post?”

“What is all this nonsense about some woman named Post?” Hamilton moved out onto the front step. “I have never heard of her.”

“I was certain that would be your answer.” Charlotte’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. “But Baxter felt he had to ask.”

“I see.” Hamilton’s lip curled. “My dear half brother seems intent on amusing himself by interfering in my personal affairs these days. One would have thought that his forthcoming marriage would hold more interest for him. Good day to you, Miss Arkendale.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

Charlotte whirled to confront Baxter. “I told you that I wished to be present when you spoke to him about Miss Post’s visit. Now look what you have done. I suspect you did not employ any tact at all. He’s obviously quite overset by whatever it was that you said to him.”

“Tact is not my strong suit.”

“I’ve noticed. At least you got your answer. I told you that he was not responsible for Miss Post’s visit.”

“So you did.”

“Which means that she may, indeed, be connected to this business, after all,” Charlotte said. “The murderer
must have employed her to break up our association because he knew that together we were a threat to him.”

“I do not see how he could have known that. The only thing we had done at that point was search Mrs. Heskett’s house and then got ourselves engaged. Damnation, Charlotte, why did you come here alone?”