Page 85 of Affair

Baxter turned the book in his hands. “Because a picture very similar to the one I just showed you appeared in a watercolor sketchbook belonging to Drusilla Heskett.”

Hamilton looked baffled. “Are you speaking of the Mrs. Heskett who was murdered recently?”

“Yes. I will be blunt, Hamilton. It’s possible that there is some connection between one of the members of your club and Drusilla Heskett’s death.”

“You cannot possibly know such a thing,” Hamilton exploded. “How dare you make accusations of that sort?”

“I’m not making accusations. I’m attempting to alert you to the possibility that there may be a connection here. That’s all.”

“I have had enough of this outrage.” Hamilton started for the door. “I will not tolerate your interference in my affairs. I may not possess my rightful fortune, but I am the Earl of Esherton, by God. I do not bow to the whims of a bastard.”

Baxter held himself motionless. With the skills he had honed over a lifetime, he concealed even the smallest flicker of a reaction. “There is one other small matter,my lord.”

Hamilton reddened in response to the icy politeness in Baxter’s voice. “I do not intend to answer any more of your blasted questions.”

“This is a simple one,” Baxter said very softly. “How well do you know Juliana Post?”

“Post?” Hamilton scowled. “I know of no one by that name.” He leveled the riding crop at Baxter. “I am warning you, St. Ives, stay out of my affairs. Is that quite clear?”

“I understand you very well. So did Father.” Baxter smiled wryly. “He always claimed that there was a great deal of himself in you.”

Hamilton’s mouth tightened. He looked briefly confused, as if he had not expected such a mild response. Baxter had the impression that he was about to say something else. Instead, he swung around and made for the door.

Baxter remembered what Charlotte had said last night.If there is a murderer in The Green Table club, your brother could be at risk.

Another voice, his father’s this time, also echoed in his brain.You will look after your brother after I’m gone. He’ll need some guidance for a while. Boy’s the very image of myself when I was his age. Hot-blooded and reckless. Make sure he doesn’t break his neck, Baxter.

“Hamilton.”

“What is it now?” Hamilton glowered from the doorway.

“You are correct when you say that I have no right to interfere with your pursuits.” Baxter hesitated, choosing his words with care. “But for your mother’s sake and for the sake of the title that Father bequeathed to you, I trust you will exercise some degree of caution. It would be a pity if you got yourself killed before you could produce an heir.”

“I assure you, there is no danger for me at The Green Table. You are merely attempting to alarm me. You wish to make me uneasy in my friendships. It’s quite petty of you.”

“Do you think so?”

“You surely cannot expect me to believe that you’re genuinely concerned with my welfare.”

“Why not?” Baxter smiled thinly. “At least when you deal with me, you have the assurance of knowing that I have no reason to plot against you. After all, if you get yourself killed, the earldom doesn’t come to me. It goes to our very distant, extremely obnoxious cousin in Northumberland.”

“I suspect you would somehow contrive to keep your hands on the money, though.” Hamilton stormed out into the hall, seized his hat, and reached for the front-door knob. “Where the devil is your butler, for God’s sake? Did you lose him, too? I don’t know why you cannot keep staff—” He broke off abruptly as he yanked open the door. “I beg your pardon, Miss Arkendale.”

“Lord Esherton,” Charlotte murmured.

Baxter frowned at the sound of her voice. He crossed the library and reached the doorway in time to see her rising from one of her graceful curtsies.

The familiar jolt of aching awareness sang through him at the sight of her. She was dressed in a green and white pelisse and a gown trimmed with green velvet ribbon. The wide brim of her matching straw bonnet framed her vivid eyes. Little corkscrew curls of dark red-brown hair bobbed in front of her small ears.

“Charlotte.” He started toward her. Then he saw the hackney coach that was standing in the street. “What the devil are you doing here at this hour? And why are you alone? You should have brought your housekeeper or your sister with you. I do not want you dashing about on your own like this anymore.”

Hamilton rolled his eyes in derision. “Ever the gracious host, St. Ives. One would think that you could come up with a more hospitable greeting for your fiancée.”

Baxter set his teeth. It occurred to him that Hamilton no doubt had a point.

Hamilton gave him a superior, sarcastic smile and then inclined his head over Charlotte’s gloved hand.

“I must tell you that if I were in your shoes, Miss Arkendale, I would definitely reconsider this engagement. Baxter’s poor manners are hardly likely to improve after the marriage.”

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