Page 84 of Affair

He managed to reach the window. Below, the sea waited for him. He leaped into the darkness.

Explosions roared through the laboratory, turning it into an inferno. An instant before the cold seas closed over his head, he heard Morgan’s voice.

“Do you believe in destiny, St. Ives?”

And then there was only the crashing of the sea against the rocks.

Baxter came fully awake in an instant, his pulse pounding in his veins. He felt the dampness on his back and for a horrifying instant he thought it was the acid.

He levered himself up, off the sofa, clawing at his shirt. And then he realized that it was his own sweat that had plastered the linen to his skin. He sank back down onto the cushions and rested his elbows on his knees.

He leaned forward, exhausted, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. He sought the center of himself, searching for the sense of control he needed.

The crashing waves still echoed in his head.

“Bloody hell, St. Ives. Get a grip on yourself.” Baxter exhaled slowly, deliberately, willing himself into the calm, detached state that served him so well.

The loud smashing noise sounded again. Not the nightmarish memory of seawater against rocks. A fist against the front door.

Baxter rose slowly to his feet, shoved his hands through his hair, and straightened his shirt. Anger coursed through him. He had not had the dream for a long while. He had hoped it had disappeared into the void forever.

“Open this door.”

Hamilton.

Baxter remembered that Lambert had left the house to run various errands. He crossed the library, went out into the hall, and opened the front door.

Hamilton stood on the front step. His jaw was rigid. His eyes were narrowed to mere slits. He lifted his expensively gloved hand and revealed the crumpled sheet of foolscap that he held. “What is the meaning of this outrageous message?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“How dare you threaten to cut off my quarterly allowance if I do not dance attendance on you?” Hamilton slapped his stylish riding crop against his boot as he stalked into the hall. He snatched off his high-crowned hat and tossed it onto the table. “You have no right to restrict my income. Father told you to handle my investments until I turned twenty-five. He did not tell you to steal my inheritance.”

“Calm yourself. I have no intention of depriving you of your fortune.” Baxter waved a hand toward the library. “I simply need some information from you and I need it rather quickly. Sit down. The sooner we have this conversation, the sooner you will be on your way.”

Hamilton threw him a suspicious glare and then he strode into the library and flung himself down onto a chair.

“Well?” he asked. “What is it you must know?”

“First, I should show you something that I discovered in a book.” Baxter went to the desk and picked up the small volume he had left lying there. He turned to the picture of the alchemical key. “Have you ever seen this drawing or its like?”

Hamilton glanced impatiently at the picture. He opened his mouth, obviously intending to dismiss it out of hand. But his eyes widened in shock. “Where the devil did you get this?”

“So you do recognize it.” Baxter closed the book. He leaned back against the edge of the desk and studied Hamilton’s angry face. “Something to do with your club, I presume?”

Hamilton tightened his fist around the riding crop. “What do you know of my club?”

“I am aware that you conduct experiments with animal magnetism. Mesmerism, some call it. And that you use ancient alchemical references and a drugging incense to set the stage, so to speak.”

Hamilton leaped to his feet. “How did you discover all this?”

Baxter shrugged. “I have my sources.”

“You have no right to spy on me. I have told you that what I choose to do in my club is none of your affair.”

“It may surprise you to know that I agree with you.”

“Then why the devil are we having this conversation?”

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