Page 48 of Affair

He turned, brandy glasses in hand, and looked at her. She was seated behind her desk. He wondered if she had any notion of how the lamplight warmed the curves of her breasts and deepened the mystery of her eyes.

“I was disappointed in the results of my questioning of Lennox.” Charlotte frowned. “He seemed more concerned with the risks awaiting the younger generation of gentlemen these days than he did with Drusilla Heskett’s death.”

Baxter put one glass down in front of her. He ignored the page from the sketchbook. “Sounds as if Lennox and Maryann have something in common.”

“I suspect that parents of every generation have worried about the dangers that their offspring must face.”

“No doubt.” He realized that if he stood there drinking in the sight of Charlotte’s bare shoulders and gently swelling breasts for one more minute he would not be able to keep his hands off her.

He made himself walk to the window, hoping that the sight of the moonlit garden would lower the temperature of his overheated blood. But all he saw when he looked into the glass was Charlotte’s reflection.

“Speaking of Lady Esherton,” she said gently, “what will you do about your brother, Hamilton?”

He stilled. “That is the last thing I wish to discuss tonight.”

“I see. I only brought up the subject because it appeared to be preying upon your mind during the ride home in the carriage.”

“Do not concern yourself with my personal problems, Charlotte. I shall deal with them.”

“Yes, of course.” Charlotte hesitated and then, as if she could not help herself, she added softly, “They are right, you know.”

He watched her reflection as she picked up the brandy glass and took a swallow. “Who?”

“Lennox and Lady Esherton.” She set the glass down very slowly. “The younger generation faces many dangers.”

“No offense, Charlotte, but you are in no position to talk when it comes to the subject of danger. May I remind you that you are the one who felt it necessary to hire a man-of-affairs who could also function as a bodyguard.”

“I am a mature woman who knows very well what she is about. It is different for a much younger person.”

Something in her voice caught Baxter’s attention. “You do not sound as if you are speaking generally.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “The night before my stepfather was killed, he brought a monster to our house.”

Baxter turned slowly to face her. “A monster?”

“Winterbourne had lost a great deal of money to the creature.” Charlotte gazed at the brandy glass as though she saw the past in it. “My stepfather intended to pay his debts by feeding my sister to the beast.”

“God’s blood, Charlotte. What happened?”

“I used my father’s pistol to force Winterbourne and the monster out of the house.” The glass in her hand trembled a little. “They did not return.”

He had a vision of her facing down the two men with only a pistol. A jolt of rage and fear went through him. “You are a very brave woman.”

She did not appear to have heard him. “The next morning Winterbourne was found dead. His throat was cut by a footpad, they said. I do not know what really happened after the two left the house that night but I know that my stepfather was afraid of the beast. I have sometimes wondered if the monster murdered him in retaliation for failing to pay his gaming debts.”

“Any man who would deliver a young woman into the hands of a monster in order to satisfy his vouchers deserves to die.”

“Yes.” Charlotte raised her eyes to meet his. “Do not think for a moment that I mourn Winterbourne or that I feel some guilt because I forced him out into the night where he was killed. That is not what troubles me.”

A jarring flash of intuition swept through Baxter. He sensed the secret dread that lay beneath the determined, independent spirit that animated Charlotte. The knowing was not unlike the moments of intense understanding that came upon him once in a while when an experiment allowed him a glimpse of a great scientific truth. This knowledge, however, was of a far more intimate nature than anything that he had ever discovered in his laboratory.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “What truly troubles you is that even after all these years you cannot forget that the monster is still out there somewhere.”

“No. I cannot forget. Sometimes the memory comes back in the guise of a dream. It wakes me in the middle of the night at the same hour that I was awakened on that night when the events occurred. In the dream I see myself in the dark hall outside my sister’s bedroom. I have the pistol in my hand, just as I did then. But this time the monster is aware that it is not loaded.”

“Christ.” Baxter felt his insides go cold. “Are you telling me that the pistol you used that night was unloaded?”

“It had been stored in a chest for years. I had no ball or powder for it. It was very dark in the hall and neither Winterbourne nor the monster knew that I held an empty pistol. But in my dream, the monster laughs because he knows the truth. He knows I cannot stop him this time.”

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