Page 64 of Affair

Charlotte touched the earth in one pot with the tip of her finger. “The seeds have not sprouted.”

“No,” he said. “They may never sprout. That is the way of many such experiments. What is this tale that you wish to tell me?”

“It is the most amazing thing.” She turned, shimmering with renewed excitement. “I may as well start at the beginning. This morning I had a visit from a lady who claimed to be pregnant with your child.”

“What?”

“Brace yourself, Baxter. It only gets more interesting.”

Ten

“You followed that woman back to her house?” Baxter was stunned. “Confronted her in her own hall? I don’t believe this. What a crazed, idiotic, featherbrained thing to do.”

“On the contrary. It was the logical thing to do under the circumstances,” Charlotte said soothingly. “I had to discover what Miss Post was about. Surely you can understand that.”

“Bloody hell.” Beneath his anger, Baxter sensed the raw, wrenching fear. He made a futile attempt to contain the volatile mix of emotions. He knew he was not reacting in an entirely rational manner, but he could not stop himself. “How did you dare to take such a risk? Have you gone mad?”

Charlotte looked honestly baffled by his outrage. “There was no risk. I merely spoke to her.”

“You should have talked to me before you undertook such a dangerous scheme.” He swept out a hand. “I’m supposed to be your partner. And your bodyguard, devil take it.”And your lover, something inside him wanted to add in a loud, clear voice.I’m supposed to be your lover, dammit.

“But there was no time to send a message around to you, sir. I had to act swiftly or I would have lost sight of Miss Post’s carriage.”

“Unbelievable. You went after her in a flower cart driven by some stranger who could well have proven to be the most dangerous sort of villain.”

“I’m quite certain that he was only a boy from the country. I suspect that very few villains drive through London in flower carts.”

“You went straight into the house of the woman who had just attempted to feed you a fantastic lie. Have you no common sense at all?” Baxter scowled as he passed the balance stationed on the end of one of the workbenches. Good God, he was moving about the laboratory. He was pacing. He never paced.

The knowledge only served to darken his seething mood. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to continue prowling up and down the aisles between workbenches. He knew that if he paused even briefly he might succumb to the urge to seize the nearest glass retort and hurl it against the wall.

Charlotte had no business taking such risks. She would surely drive him mad before this was over. Her independent, unpredictable nature was a serious threat to his hard-won serenity. He was a chemist, not a poet. He could not deal with such surges of strong emotion.

Last night he had convinced himself that he had found a way to handle the tide of restless desire that Charlotte elicited in him. He had established to his own satisfaction that he was in command of himself and of the situation. He had concluded that it was safe to have an affair.

He had reasoned that the liaison would allow the unstable fires of passion to burn themselves out in a natural, controlled manner. The principle was not unlike his practice of using a carefully monitored flame to heat the contents of a flask full of volatile chemicals. So long as one was cautious and careful, no dangerous explosion would result.

In the end the contents of the flask would turn to ashes.

He had endured too much during the past twenty-four hours, he thought. He had assumed from her response to him that Charlotte would be amenable to his suggestion of an affair. But rather than give him a straightforward answer to his simple question, she had told him that she would consider the matter.

Consider the matter. Of all the bloody nerve. She had left him to twist in the wind while she dithered.

Then had come that nasty business with the housebreaker.

Now he was faced with this morning’s crazed escapade.

And he was seething. He never seethed. Seething, like pacing, was a sign of a lack of self-mastery. It was a signal that emotion, rather than reason, ruled one’s brain.

It was too much for a serious-minded, methodical, logical sort. If he had not been a modern man of science he would no doubt have been tempted to believe that some malign supernatural force had entered his life with the intention of wreaking havoc.

The knowledge that Charlotte had this sort of power over him stirred the hair on the nape of his neck and sent a chill down his spine.

“I resent the implication that I have no common sense, Mr. St. Ives.” Charlotte’s voice was drained of much of her earlier enthusiasm. The placating note was gone, too. She was starting to sound annoyed. “I am a mature adult, after all. I have operated my own business quite successfully for several years. I am no fool.”

“I did not say that you were a fool.” Damn. One wrong turn after another, Baxter thought glumly. In another moment the entire experiment would be ruined before it had even been properly begun and he would have no one to blame but himself.

“I’m delighted to hear that,” Charlotte said crisply. “I would like to point out that this morning’s events occurred because Miss Post heard the rumor that we were engaged to be married.”

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