Page 44 of Affair

“Dru had a head on her shoulders.” Lennox executed a nimble move that narrowly avoided the other dancers. “Understood that marriage didn’t have to interfere with a spot of fun now and again.”

“Indeed.” Charlotte caught a flash of lavender silk out of the corner of her eye. She gave Lennox a smile of relief and tried to think of how best to pursue her inquiries.

The problem was that Lennox gave every appearance of being exactly what her earlier investigations had indicated, good-natured and financially stable. She could not envision him as a murderer. Yet Drusilla had specifically mentioned his name in her last note.

“I see your fiancé headed toward the gardens with Lady Esherton,” Lennox announced as he swung Charlotte into another galloping turn. “Don’t envy him. The old man left St. Ives in a devil of a fix when he put him in charge of the family purse strings.”

Charlotte recalled what Baxter had said about managing his half brother’s income as well as his own. She had assumed the situation existed simply because Baxter was good at finances. “You mean the old earl actually stipulated in his will that Mr. St. Ives was to control the fortune?”

“It’s no great secret that old Esherton made Baxter his executor until Hamilton is five-and-twenty. Sound thinking on Esherton’s part, if you ask me. Anyone can see that young Hamilton needs some time to settle. Takes after his father, he does. The old earl was a neck-or-nothing rakehell in his youth.” Lennox paused. “Come to think of it, he didn’t change much over the years. He was a rakehell until the day he died.”

“I see.”

“But he wasn’t foolish when it came to the fortune,” Lennox continued. “By the time he inherited it, he was nearly thirty and he managed the estates nicely, indeed. Baxter’s got his father’s head for that sort of thing and the old man knew it. But it does put St. Ives into an uncomfortable spot. Bound to be a lot of resentment in a situation such as that.”

“Indeed.”

Lennox’s expression grew unexpectedly troubled. “Hamilton ain’t the only young man who’s runnin’ a bit wild these days. Seems as if the whole lot of the young bloods are feeling their oats. Don’t mind telling you that my own son, Norris, has given me a few shudders of late. He and Hamilton are friends, doncha know.”

“I suppose they’re both into the usual bloody-minded occupations of young males,” Charlotte said carefully. “Driving too fast, drinking too much, risking their necks in silly dares?”

“Wish that were the whole of it,” Lennox said. “Mind you, I’m all in favor of a young man sowing his wild oats early in life. The devil knows, I got into my share of trouble when I was that age. Nearly got myself killed in a duel over a little high-flyer of an opera dancer on one occasion. Went a few rounds with a bruiser named Bull Keeley. Smuggled a bit of French brandy. That sort of thing.”

“I see.”

“Just the old-fashioned, innocent pleasures of youth.” Lennox sent them whirling into another turn. “But these days becoming a man seems to be a riskier business than it was when I was a lad.”

“What do you mean?”

“The gaming hells are more dangerous for one thing,” Lennox said very seriously. “Friend of Norris’s lost his estates in a place called The Green Table the other night. Young Crossmore went home and put a bullet in his head.”

“How terrible.”

“Warned Norris that if he didn’t watch his step, I’d send him on an extended tour of the Continent.”

“Has your threat worked?”

“Norris knows I won’t tolerate any nonsense. Unfortunately for young Hamilton, his father ain’t around to pull in the reins. Left the job to St. Ives along with the responsibility for the fortune.”

With a final flourish, the music stopped. Charlotte was panting. She gave Lennox another curtsy and a bright smile. “Thank you, my lord, I needed the exercise.”

“Builds stamina,” he assured her as he led her off the floor. “Can I fetch you a glass of lemonade or champagne?”

“No, thank you, I believe I’ll go find Lady Trengloss.”

“Ah, yes, the lovely Rosalind. Charming woman.” Lennox looked briefly wistful. “Imagine she misses her sister.”

“Mr. St. Ives’s mother?”

“Yes. Emma died four years ago. In their younger days, she and Rosalind kept things lively in Society. Never a dull moment. Emma was always the wilder of the two, though. Her affair with Esherton lasted until the day she died. I tell you, it’s damned hard to believe that St. Ives is the offspring of that pair.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Young Baxter’s temperament is the complete opposite of his parents’. Oh, he takes after Esherton in some ways. No mistaking those eyes, of course. And he got his mother’s dark hair. But he lacks Emma’s sense of humor and dash and he didn’t get even a modicum of the St. Ives style, sad to say.”

“The St. Ives style?”

“You know what they say about the men of the St. Ives line. They do everything with style. Hamilton’s living up to the family heritage but, I vow, Baxter looks as if he makes his livin’ as someone’s man-of-affairs.”

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