Page 83 of Affair

Charlotte hesitated. “Has Hamilton ever spoken to you about mesmerism?”

“Animal magnetism, do you mean?” Ariel’s fine brows drew together in a slight frown. “He mentioned it when we went out onto the terrace at the Clydes’ ball. I believe he has an interest in the subject. He seemed to know a great deal about it. He claimed that its potential has been overlooked by most modern scientists such as, ah …”

“Such as his brother?”

“Well, yes.” Ariel sighed. “He seemed rather scornful of Mr. St. Ives’s interest in chemistry.”

“I see.” Charlotte pushed back the quilt and got out of bed. She went to stand at the window. “Baxter and I learned tonight that Hamilton and his friends are experimenting with mesmerism at their club.”

“What of it? Many people form clubs and societies in order to investigate scientific matters that interest them.”

“Yes, I know.” Charlotte touched the cold window glass with her fingertips. She did not know how to explain the strange fear and the unwilling fascination she had experienced earlier that night while observing the activities of The Green Table club. What she had seen had not been good. It had agitated her imagination to the point of bringing on the old nightmares. “But I fear Hamilton’s club may be somewhat unusual.”

“Charlotte, I do not mind telling you that I am becoming more and more concerned about this situation.”

“So am I.” It was a relief to say it aloud. Charlotte turned. “Baxter and I feel there may be a link between The Green Table and Drusilla Heskett’s death.”

“No.” Ariel got to her feet. “You cannot mean to imply that Hamilton had anything to do with Mrs. Heskett’s murder. I will not believe it.”

“I’m not implying anything of the kind. But perhaps someone else in his club had a hand in it.”

“But the club members are all friends of his. Surely none of them would be involved in murder.”

“Does Hamilton know all of the club members well? There are several of them, you know. I counted a half dozen, at least, this evening. Perhaps one or two are not particularly close cronies of Hamilton’s.”

“Perhaps.” Ariel nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip. “I could no doubt determine if that is true. Would it help, do you think, if I asked him about his friends?”

Charlotte hesitated. “No. Let St. Ives handle it. They are brothers, after all.”

“Yes, but I fear there is very little affection between them.”

“Baxter was charged with responsibility for Hamilton. He will fulfill his obligations.”

“You sound very certain of that.”

Charlotte smiled wearily. “I am.”

Ariel watched her closely. “When I said a moment ago that I was becoming increasingly concerned about this matter, I was not referring only to the Heskett murder.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“Do not mistake me. I do worry about the investigation, but there is something else that alarms me just as much, if not more.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Are you falling in love with Mr. St. Ives?”

The question stole Charlotte’s breath. Several seconds ticked past before she recovered from the impact.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said softly.

“I feared as much,” Ariel whispered. “It seems that you had the right of it after all when you said that he was dangerous.”

Time moved with the thick, oozing quality of honey leaking from a broken pot. Baxter could see the flask of acid arcing toward him through the fiery shadows. He tried to get out of its path, but it was impossible to swim quickly through the flowing amber. All he could do was turn away and raise his arm to shield his eyes.

The flask struck his shoulder. The acid ate quickly through the thin linen of his shirt. And then it was on his skin, burning with the flames of hell itself.

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