Affair

by Amanda Quick

  “His style is one of the many things that I have always admired in him,” she said.

  Twenty

  Two days later Hamilton lounged against one of the long workbenches in the laboratory. He watched with interest as Baxter busied himself arranging and rearranging the chemicals and apparatus that littered every surface.

  “How did you cause the curtains to go up in flames and how did you create the explosion in the fireplace?” Hamilton asked.

  “I told you I had a box of my new instantaneous lights with me.” Baxter carefully polished a small Wedgwood crucible. “Charlotte distracted Judd long enough for me to break a couple of them in the folds of the curtains. I threw another one into the fire.”

  “Very clever. So Morgan Judd murdered his man-of-affairs and Drusilla Heskett and assumed that would be the end of it,” Hamilton said.

  “He had not counted on the fact that Mrs. Heskett had told someone that she feared one of her rejected suitors was trying to murder her.” Baxter concentrated on arranging two rows of green glass bottles containing alkaline and metallic salts. “Nor had he made allowances for the possibility that Aunt Rosalind would insist upon investigating the death of her friend. Morgan had a great disdain for the female sex. He always did tend to underestimate them.”

  “And in the end he was done in by the ladies.” Hamilton grinned. “Served him right.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Why do you suppose Mrs. Heskett made the little drawing of Judd’s emblem?”

  Baxter shrugged. “We can only speculate. Charlotte believes that it was Judd’s man-of-affairs who actually drew the design in Mrs. Heskett’s sketchbook. He may have been trying to explain the principles behind Judd’s mesmerism techniques.”

  Hamilton nodded. “So he drew a picture to help with the task?”

  “Perhaps. We’ll never know for certain.”

  “You know, Baxter, it’s the oddest thing, but I realize now that I often promised myself I would look inside the wardrobe in our meeting chamber at The Green Table. I knew the magician had to have a secret entrance but somehow I never got around to investigating.”

  “I suspect he made certain that none of the club members were inclined to look too closely into his affairs.”

  Hamilton’s mouth thinned. “You mean he used his mesmerism tricks on us to convince us not to explore the chamber?”

  “It seems likely.” Baxter set down a glass bottle.

  He was weary of answering questions. He had retreated to his laboratory in order to devote himself to the task of setting it to rights. Tidying up this chamber was something he did whenever he wished to ponder a subject. He found it soothing to clean retorts, polish instruments, and inventory his collection of flasks and jars while he did his thinking.

  Unfortunately, his plans for extended contemplation had gone awry when Hamilton had bounded into the house twenty minutes earlier, eager to discuss the events of the past several days.

  “Hard to believe that Drusilla Heskett was having an affair with a man-of-affairs,” Hamilton said. “Baxter, do you think that most of the ladies of the ton are engaged in illicit liaisons with everyone from the footman to their husband’s best friend?”

  “I expect the number of women involved in such affairs is no greater than the number of gentlemen who are engaged in similar liaisons with the children’s governess or their best friend’s wife.”

  Hamilton winced. “Not a pleasant thought.” His expression grew abruptly serious. “I don’t think that I would like to find myself wed to a lady who took paramours.”

  “That is definitely something we have in common.” Baxter examined a cracked flask. “I wonder if my glass-maker can mend this.”

  “Miss Ariel would never betray her wedding vows,” Hamilton said softly. “She is a virtuous, extremely noble-minded lady.”

  Baxter raised one brow. “If you’re thinking of making an offer of marriage in that direction, I had better give you a warning.”

  Hamilton held up one hand. “No lectures, please. I am well aware that I will not come into my inheritance for a few more years. But I would like to remind you that there is nothing in Father’s will that says I cannot marry in the meantime.”

  “Father’s will is not the problem. I don’t give a damn whether or not you choose to wed. As it happens, I believe Miss Ariel would make you an excellent countess.”

  Hamilton brightened. “Do you?”

  “Indeed. But I had better tell you that if you expect to offer for her, you must be prepared to have your reputation and personal affairs thoroughly investigated by Charlotte. I can promise you that she won’t allow her sister to marry a man who has the inclinations of a rake.”

  Hamilton smiled slightly. “In other words, our dear, departed father is not a good recommendation for me?”

  “No, he is not.”

  Hamilton exhaled heavily. “Then perhaps it’s just as well that I don’t take after him in every particular. Between you and me, I have no interest in pursuing little opera dancers or hanging about in brothels. I want a marriage of true love and affection.”

  Baxter peered at him. “Good lord. You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “About making an offer to Miss Ariel? Yes. I have never met a more charming, more intelligent woman. Nor one so brave. Do you know, Baxter, she absolutely insisted upon accompanying me the other night when we chased after Miss Charlotte and her kidnappers. Nothing I said could induce her to stay behind. She even made me instruct her in the use of a pistol on the way, just in case. She is a lady of great spirit.”

  “Runs in the family, apparently,” Baxter muttered.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. Rosalind, dressed in a pale pink gown, a raspberry-colored pelisse, and a massive pink satin hat, appeared in the doorway. “There you are, Baxter. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Hamilton straightened. “Lady Trengloss.”

  “Hamilton.” She turned back to Baxter. “Why have you not answered my messages? I sent at least two yesterday and another one this morning.”

  Baxter wondered if he would ever get his laboratory to himself. “Good day, Aunt. Lambert did not tell me that you had come to call.”

  “Your butler barely managed to open the door a moment ago,” she retorted. “I lacked the patience to wait for him to shuffle the length of the hall to announce me. Really, Baxter, you must pension Lambert off one of these days. How on earth can you run this household with him?”

  “He is the only member of the staff who has stayed longer than two months. If I got rid of him, I would have no one at all to run the bloody household.” Baxter dropped the cracked flask into a bin. “Was there something you wanted?”

  She shot Hamilton an impatient glance and then gave Baxter a considering look. “I came to thank you for solving the mystery of my dear friend’s murder.”

  “You did that the morning after the events.” Baxter picked up a feather duster and began wielding it over the jars of chemicals. “I’m rather busy at the moment, so if there’s nothing else—”

  “Very well, that is not the only reason I came to see you.” Rosalind narrowed her gaze. “I have some family business I wish to discuss.”

  “Hamilton is family,” Baxter said.

  Hamilton glanced at him with surprise and then smiled. “Indeed.”

  “As you wish.” Rosalind glared at Baxter. “I shall come straight out with it. Do you still intend to end your engagement to Miss Arkendale now that the Heskett business is finished?”

  The feather duster froze in midair. Baxter turned slowly to confront his aunt. “That is a personal matter that concerns only Miss Arkendale and myself.”

  Something in his voice clearly took her aback. Rosalind blinked. Her mouth worked once or twice and then she sputtered in an uncharacteristic fashion. “Well. Well. I only meant to say that—”

  “He’s afraid to ask her for her hand,” Hamilton explained in a confidential tone. “He thinks she’ll turn him down flat.
”

  “Do shut up, Hamilton,” Baxter said through his teeth.

  Hamilton grinned, unabashed.

  “Why on earth would she turn him down?” Rosalind demanded. “She’s five-and-twenty. A spinster with no fortune to recommend her. She must realize that under the circumstances she’s highly unlikely to do any better than Baxter.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Rosalind,” Baxter muttered. “Always nice to have one’s relatives offer such strong support.”

  “She appears to be quite fond of Baxter,” Hamilton said. “The problem is that she’s not at all keen on marriage. Ariel told me that her sister believes marriage to be a terrible risk for a woman.”

  “What rubbish. We’re talking about marriage to Baxter.” Rosalind gave an unladylike snort. “Hardly a risk. I vow, I do not know of a more mild-mannered, placid, sober-minded, even-tempered man in all of London.”

  “I quite agree.” Hamilton’s eyes glinted with unholy glee. “One would have to say that our Baxter is the most unflappable, the most steady, the most reliable, the most dependable of men.”

  All the qualities of a good spaniel, Baxter thought. He returned to his dusting with a savage vengeance.

  “What’s this about steadiness and dependability?” Maryann demanded from the doorway. “What on earth are you talking about, Hamilton?”

  Baxter groaned. “Bloody hell.” If he were the sort who actually believed in destiny, he thought, he would have been tempted to think that he was the victim of a very malign fate today. Was he never to have any peace in his own laboratory?

  “Hello, Mother,” Hamilton said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to call on Baxter.”

  Rosalind nodded toward Maryann with a minimum of civility. “Lady Esherton.”

  Maryann’s expression congealed. “Lady Trengloss. I did not realize you were here.” She turned her back on Rosalind and looked at her son. “I trust you were supplying Baxter with a list of the characteristics that are most desirable in a good servant. He certainly requires a new butler. The one who opened the door for me just now did not even bother to announce me. Merely waved me down the hall to this door.”

  “Actually, we were describing Baxter’s many outstanding qualities,” Hamilton said. “We have concluded that he has every characteristic required to recommend him to Miss Arkendale.”

  “Indeed,” Maryann said vaguely. “I’m sure they will do very well together. Baxter, I wished to speak with you in private.”

  “I’m not giving private interviews today, Maryann.” Baxter tightened his grip on the feather duster. “As you can see, I’m occupied with other matters at the moment.”

  Maryann frowned. “Whatever are you doing with that duster? Don’t you have any maids about the house?”

  “No, but it does not signify. I never allow anyone to set my laboratory to rights except myself. Maids have a way of dropping bottles of chemicals and breaking instruments.” He planted his hands on his hips. “I would like to request that all of you take your leave.”

  Maryann bridled. “Really there’s no need to be rude, Baxter.”

  “Rudeness is part of his unique style,” Hamilton murmured.

  Maryann ignored him. She drew herself up with great dignity. “I came to express my appreciation for your actions on Hamilton’s behalf.”

  Hamilton rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

  “There is no need to thank me,” Baxter said gruffly. “Hamilton helped save himself and everyone else. He proved to be very cool in a crisis and if I am ever again in such unpleasant circumstances, I cannot think of any other man I would sooner have at my back.”

  Hamilton flushed a dark red. His eyes lit with an awkward gratitude. “Any time, Baxter.”

  “Having said that”—Baxter raised his duster as though it were a magic wand he could use to rid the laboratory of unwanted guests—“will you all please consider me thanked and take yourselves off? I have things to do here.”

  Before anyone could respond, a swirl of bright yellow muslin caught Baxter’s eye. He turned to see Charlotte in the doorway. Ariel stood behind her.

  “Miss Ariel,” Hamilton exclaimed. “And Miss Charlotte.” He inclined his head in a graceful greeting and then went forward to take the women’s hands. “Allow me to tell you that you are both in fine looks today.”

  Baxter watched Hamilton bend gallantly over each gloved hand. He should do the same, he told himself. There were, indeed, a few things he could learn from his younger half brother. But for some reason he seemed to be rooted to the floor at the moment.

  He felt his very soul expand at the sight of Charlotte. She looked so breathtakingly vivid. The laboratory grew sunnier with the addition of her presence. No, not just the laboratory, he thought. His whole bloody life had brightened because of her. A future without her would be bleak beyond description.

  She was his Philosopher’s Stone. God help him if he lost her.

  “Charlotte,” he said softly. Hamilton slanted him a speaking glance. Baxter cleared his throat. “Miss Ariel. Good day to you, ladies.”

  “Good day to you.” Charlotte smiled at everyone but her eyes went first to Baxter. “I see we have a crowd.”

  “They are all just about to take their leave,” Baxter assured her brusquely. “I did not realize that you had arrived, Charlotte. Where the devil is Lambert? I shall have him bring in some tea or something.”

  “He appears to have stationed himself at the front door on a somewhat permanent basis,” Charlotte said.

  Ariel laughed. “He claimed that what with all the comings and goings this morning, he could not possibly be expected to get anything else accomplished.”

  Hamilton grinned. “We are all attempting to thank Baxter but he insists upon showing us the door.”

  “I’ve got things to do,” Baxter growled.

  They all ignored him.

  “Such an incredible chain of events,” Ariel said. “Who could have imagined how it would end?”

  “Indeed.” Hamilton chuckled. “The magician must have been stunned when he realized that his machinations had drawn his old nemesis, Baxter, into his sphere.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Charlotte hoisted her large reticule onto a workbench. “I rather think he viewed Baxter’s part in the affair as yet another manifestation of his so-called destiny.”

  Hamilton raised his brows. “Perhaps it was.”

  Ariel looked intrigued by that notion. “Indeed. I have been thinking about something Charlotte mentioned the day she rescued Juliana Post. She said she noticed that the death card had fallen faceup on the floor. Miss Post claimed that she always gave the magician the fortune he wished to hear. But on that day, she unwittingly read him his true fate.”

  Rosalind’s eyes widened. “I vow, it gives one shivers, does it not?”

  Baxter scowled. “What bloody nonsense. Miss Post told us herself that she didn’t draw that card. It must have got accidentally flipped over by the hem of her robes when he picked her up and carried her to the sofa.”

  Hamilton narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps it was not entirely an accident.”

  “It would seem a bit difficult to blame such an omen on mere coincidence,” Rosalind agreed with relish.

  “The entire affair positively reeks of a mysterious hand from the metaphysical realm,” Ariel declared.

  Maryann was clearly fascinated. “Quite odd, all of it.”

  “Enough,” Baxter roared. “The situation was no more than the result of a logical progression of events.”

  “What do you mean?” Ariel asked.

  It was Charlotte who answered. “Baxter’s right in one sense. There is a certain logical inevitability about events in the affair. After all, Morgan Judd must have realized that he was setting certain wheels in motion when he allowed Hamilton into The Green Table club.”

  Maryann frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  Charlotte looked at her. “Judd must have known that when he involved Hamilto
n in his grand scheme, he was certain to attract Baxter’s attention sooner or later. If you ask me, some part of his obsessive nature could not resist taking the risk. I suspect that, deep inside, he wanted Baxter to know that he had survived Italy. He wanted to gloat, to prove that he was the more clever of the Two Alchemists. And he wanted to exact revenge.”

  “I see.” Hamilton tipped his head slightly to the side as he considered that. “I can well comprehend that Judd may have wished to demonstrate his superiority. But why would he assume that Baxter would give a bloody damn about what happened to me?”

  Charlotte smiled wryly. “Oh, I’m certain it never occurred to him that Baxter would try to extricate you from The Green Table club, let alone save your friend Norris. Judd assumed that Baxter had destroyed his own soul with resentment and anger just as he himself had done. But he knew that he could use you to get Baxter’s attention and that was what he wanted.”

  “Even though Baxter was a possible threat to his plans?” Rosalind asked.

  “He intended to kill Baxter after he had demonstrated his cleverness.” Charlotte gave a small shrug. “Judd was his own worst enemy. His arrogance and bitterness and cruel nature created a devil’s brew within him that was more virulent than any acid.”

  Rosalind grew thoughtful. “So, one way or another, Baxter would have wound up in the middle of the affair even had I not asked him to investigate Drusilla’s death.”

  “Quite right,” Charlotte said. “And I had no choice but to get involved because Mrs. Heskett had been a client. I had to determine if her death had, indeed, been at the hands of one of the suitors I had investigated.” She grinned at Baxter. “The only part of this whole thing that could even remotely be termed a coincidence occurred at the very beginning when I suddenly found myself in need of a new man-of-affairs.”

  “And Baxter applied for the post,” Rosalind concluded.

  Baxter tossed aside his duster. “Even had she not been in the market for a man-of-affairs, I would have made contact with her one way or another. The trail from Mrs. Heskett’s death led to her.”

  Hamilton waggled his brows and lowered his voice to a sepulchral tone. “Fate or a logical progression of events. Who can decide?”