Page 128 of Affair

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?”

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