Page 41 of Affair

“My dear, allow me to present an acquaintance of mine, Lord Lennox.”

“My lord,” Charlotte murmured.

Baxter barely managed to conceal his surprise as he watched her sink into an elegant little curtsy. The graceful dip was accented with an equally gracious inclination of her head. It all spoke volumes about her past and her upbringing. She had, indeed, been bred for a much higher position in the social hierarchy than the one in which she moved.

“Well, well, well, this is a pleasure, indeed, m’dear.” Lennox bent his gleaming head over Charlotte’s gloved hand. “Allow me to tell you that you look lovely. A vision, indeed. As bright as Spring itself.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Charlotte murmured.

Lennox shot Baxter a knowing look from beneath his bushy brows. “It’s about time you found yourself a wife, St. Ives. A man your age should have more interesting things to do than spend his time mucking around with a bunch of chemicals in a laboratory, eh?”

“Indeed.” Baxter avoided Charlotte’s eye.

“Volatile things, chemicals.” Lennox leaned close to Baxter and lowered his voice so that Charlotte and Rosalind could not hear. “If I were you, I’d avoid ’em entirely now that you’re about to get married. Never know when you might damage something vital in an explosion. Be a shame to crawl into bed on your wedding night and discover you’d accidentally blown off your ballocks in some damn experiment.”

“I’ll keep your advice in mind,” Baxter said.

“That’s the spirit, St. Ives.” Lennox clapped Baxter on the shoulder. “I say, any objections to my having a spin around the floor with your lovely fiancée?”

Now that he thought about it, Baxter realized that he did have a few objections. The notion of Charlotte in another man’s arms, even the arms of a man who was old enough to be her grandfather, was an astonishingly unpleasant one. But he saw the gleam in Charlotte’s eye and knew he had better keep his opinions to himself.

“I have a feeling my fiancée would enjoy a little exercise.” Baxter adjusted his spectacles. “Is that correct, Charlotte?”

“I would be very pleased to dance with you, Lord Lennox.” Charlotte placed her hand delicately on his sleeve.

“Excellent.” Lennox led her gallantly toward the dance floor. “Let’s be off, shall we?”

Baxter watched as the pair was absorbed into the crowd of dancers.

“Do stop scowling so, Baxter,” Rosalind murmured. “People will think that you’re preparing to call out poor Lennox.”

“The day I challenge any man to a duel over a woman will be the day I cease studying chemistry and take up alchemy.”

“Sometimes I quite despair of you. Where is your passion? Your sensibilities? Your emotions? No, do not bother to answer that question.” Rosalind peered intently at the crowd. “Do you really believe that Lennox could have murdered poor Drusilla?”

“I doubt it. He does not have a financial motive, for one thing. And in my opinion, he lacks the temperament for murder.”

Rosalind glanced at him in surprise. “Then why are we wasting time with this little drama tonight?”

“I explained that Charlotte is convinced that Drusilla Heskett’s note implicated one of her most recently rejected suitors. Lennox was one of those men. We must proceed in a logical manner.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Well, Lennox is all we have to work with for the moment. I discovered that Randeleigh and Esly are in the country for several days. They are not expected back until the end of the month.”

“I shall have my man-of-affairs make some inquiries in that direction.”

“I cannot picture either of them as murderers, either.”

“Neither can I,” Baxter admitted.

Rosalind gave him a considering look. “You know, speaking of logic, it would appear perfectly reasonable if you were to dance with your own fiancée.”

“I haven’t danced in years. Never was much good at it.”

“That is not the point, Baxter, I merely—” Rosalind broke off to gaze at someone coming up behind him. She smiled coolly. “Speaking of people who believe that they have a motive for murder, here comes Lady Esherton.”

He glanced around and saw Maryann coming toward them. He abruptly recalled the three notes he had tossed into the fire during the previous fortnight. “Bloody hell.”

“She cannot have any reason to speak to me,” Rosalind said, “so it must be you she wishes to corner. If you will excuse me, I believe I see a dear friend on the other side of the room.” She turned and swept off into the crowd.

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