Page 45 of Affair

“Looks can be deceiving, sir. Please excuse me.”

“Of course, of course. Enjoyed the dance.”

Charlotte turned and walked toward the French doors, which stood open to admit the evening air into the overheated ballroom.

Outside she found the wide terrace lit with colorful lanterns. Here and there couples murmured and laughed discreetly in the shadows. Beyond lay the night-darkened expanse of the gardens.

There was no sign of Baxter in the immediate vicinity but Charlotte was almost certain that he had not come back into the ballroom.

There was just enough moonlight to make out the looming shapes of clipped hedges and thickly clustered bushes. Baxter was out there somewhere. He had no taste for Society. It would be just like him to retreat to the solitude of the gardens until it was time to leave.

She went down the stone steps and started along the path that wound into the heart of the gardens. Her soft kid slippers made no sound on the old bricks. The night was crisp. She folded her arms and hugged herself a little to ward off the chill. She would not be able to stay out there long without her cloak.

A woman’s low, anxious voice brought Charlotte to a halt. There was another couple on the far side of the high hedge on her left. She was about to continue on her way when she heard Baxter’s characteristically brusque response.

“I do not know what the devil you expect me to do about the matter, madam. Hamilton is two-and-twenty.” Baxter hesitated briefly before adding very dryly, “And heisthe Earl of Esherton, after all.”

“He is still a boy in so many ways.” The woman’s words were laced with desperation. “And so like his father. You must do something, Baxter. Ever since his lordship died, Hamilton has grown increasingly headstrong. I thought it was a stage that would pass when he recovered from his grief. But lately he and his closest friend, Norris—”

“Lennox’s heir?”

“Yes. The two of them have taken up with new associates and I fear the worst. They no longer go off to their old clubs in the evenings. Hamilton tells me they prefer a new one they have discovered. A place called The Green Table.”

“A lot of young men prefer the clubs that cater to them, rather than to the men of their fathers’ generation.”

“Yes, but I believe that this place is nothing more than a gaming hell.”

“Calm yourself, Maryann. Hamilton cannot lose the Esherton fortune in a night of deep play. I have control of the funds for another three years, if you will recall.”

“I never thought I’d live to thank God for his lordship’s foresight in that matter, but I must admit it is a good thing that Hamilton does not yet have access to his fortune. Nevertheless, there are so many risks awaiting a young man of his temperament.”

“Such as?”

“I do not know.” Maryann’s voice rose. “That is the worst of it, Baxter. I do not know the extent of the risks he takes. One hears things, dreadful things about the activities that take place in some of those hells.”

“You are overwrought, Maryann.”

“I am not overwrought, I am terrified. There are stories involving depravity and debauchery among the young bloods of the ton these days that would alarm any mother. I have heard tales of people who deliberately partake of too much opium in order to induce dreamlike trances, for example.”

“A few poets may choose to amuse themselves in that fashion, perhaps, but I believe it’s a fairly limited number.”

“Who knows what is really going on at Hamilton’s new club? I tell you, my son is not himself these days. He will not listen to me. You must speak to him.”

“What makes you think he will listen to me?”

“You are my only hope, Baxter. Your father charged you with the responsibility of guiding Hamilton until he has gained maturity. Do not deny it. We all heard his lordship’s dying instructions.”

“It is astonishing, is it not?” Baxter said in an oddly reflective tone of voice. “Even from beyond the grave, my father is still capable of creating turmoil in all our lives. I wonder if he is enjoying himself as he watches the little dramas he continues to stage.”

“Do not speak of his lordship with such disrespect. Baxter, I am depending upon you. You must stop Hamilton before he gets into serious trouble.”

Charlotte heard what sounded like a muffled sob. There was a rush of silk skirts and the soft thud of slippers on the grass. She stepped hastily back into the shadows as Maryann emerged from behind the far end of the hedge. Charlotte watched the other woman walk swiftly back toward the lantern-lit terrace.

There was a short pause and then Baxter spoke from the opposite end of the hedge. “Did you hear enough or do you want me to summarize the pertinent details of the conversation for you?”

“Mr. St. Ives.” Charlotte whirled around.

For a moment she could not make him out in the darkness. Then she saw him detach himself from the deep shadows of the high hedge and walk toward her. When he moved through a swath of weak moonlight she caught a glimpse of his harsh, unyielding expression.

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