Affair Read online

  “Do you know, it is your description of St. Ives’s role in the affair that sticks in my mind this morning.”

  Charlotte smiled with deep satisfaction. “As I said, Mr. St. Ives was magnificent.”

  “Magnificent is not a word that you are accustomed to use, especially not when you are describing a member of the opposite sex.”

  Charlotte cleared her throat. “Well, there really is no other word that suits in this particular situation. Mr. St. Ives was clever, resourceful, quick-thinking, and astonishingly brave. I shudder to think what might have happened had he not accompanied me.”

  “All in all, quite the perfect man-of-affairs, would you say?”

  “Perfect. Mr. Marcle was absolutely correct to recommend him for the position.”

  “He kissed you, did he not?” Ariel asked softly.

  “Good lord, what a strange thing to say. Why on earth would I kiss John Marcle?” Charlotte reached for her tea. “He’s a very nice man, but he’s at least thirty years older than I am and I do not think that he’s particularly interested in females.”

  “You know very well I meant Mr. St. Ives, not Mr. Marcle.”

  Charlotte felt the warmth rise furiously into her cheeks. “You believe that Mr. St. Ives kissed me? Wherever did you get such a crazed notion?”

  “When I came to your bedchamber last night to inquire into your adventures you looked …” Ariel hesitated, clearly searching for the right word. “Different.”

  “Different?”

  “Overheated. Very bright. Practically glowing.” Ariel waved one hand in a vague gesture. “A little disheveled, too. There was an odd look in your eyes.”

  “Really, Ariel, this is too much. I had just had a very disturbing encounter with an extremely violent villain. How the devil is one supposed to look after such an occasion?”

  “I don’t know how the average lady looks after she has had a near miss with a villain but I know how you look.”

  “What on earth do you mean? I have not had any other direct encounters with villains.”

  “You have had one that I recall quite distinctly.” Ariel put her cup down gently on its saucer. “Five years ago. The night before Winterbourne got his throat slit by a footpad. I heard you in the hall that night. You used Papa’s pistol to drive Winterbourne and one of his gaming cronies from the house.”

  Charlotte stared at her. “I did not realize that you understood what had happened that night.”

  “I did not comprehend matters entirely until I was much older. But even then I understood that you had dealt with a very dangerous situation. And I saw the expression in your eyes afterward. It was not the same look I saw there last night.”

  “I’m sorry. I did not mean for you to ever learn just how evil Winterbourne was.”

  “His companion was infinitely worse, was he not?”

  Charlotte shuddered at the memory. “He was a monster. But that was a long time ago, Ariel. And we both came through it safely.”

  “The point is, I recall your demeanor on that night quite clearly. You were cold to the touch. Your eyes were stark.”

  Charlotte rubbed her temples. “I do not know what to say. I was terrified. I do not recall anything else about my emotional state.”

  “Last night you had a scare, too. But you were not cold. Your eyes were anything but bleak. Indeed, you were excited and animated and almost exuberant.”

  “Get to the point, Ariel.”

  “The point is, I believe that Mr. St. Ives kissed you.”

  Charlotte groaned and threw up her hands. “Very well, he kissed me. We were both overwrought and somewhat overstimulated by the night’s events. Danger sometimes has that effect on the senses, you know.”

  “It does?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said very firmly. “The poets are always writing about the problem. Even the senses of a person who is cool and clearheaded and not inclined toward strong passions can be overcome by a thrilling experience.”

  “Even a person such as Mr. St. Ives?”

  “Actually, I was referring to myself.” Charlotte smiled ruefully. “Mr. St. Ives is cool and clearheaded also, of course, but it is obvious that he must employ a fine degree of self-discipline in order to achieve that serene state.”

  Ariel’s lips parted in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Underneath that stern, steady exterior, he is a man of dangerously strong passions.”

  “Strong passions? Mr. St. Ives?”

  “I know that I expressed some concerns in the beginning but I no longer believe his temperament will present any great difficulties for us,” Charlotte said with a false heartiness. “I am convinced he will do very well in his position.”

  “I’m glad you’re satisfied, but I’m beginning to have a few qualms. Charlotte, if Mr. St. Ives has kissed you, things have taken on a whole new aspect. How much do you really know about him?”

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte gave her a searching look. “Mr. Marcle sent a glowing letter of reference.”

  “Yes, but we have not done any research on St. Ives ourselves. We have not even made the sort of inquiries that we would have made if we were examining him on behalf of a client.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. My instincts are perfectly sound in such matters. You know that.”

  “My instincts are very sound, too. And I’m beginning to wonder about St. Ives.”

  “There is absolutely no need to be concerned.”

  “Charlotte, you allowed him to kiss you.”

  “Well, what of it?” Charlotte clasped her hands together on her desk. “It was merely a kiss.”

  “You are not given to entertaining yourself with gentlemen’s kisses,” Ariel retorted.

  Charlotte knew she could not argue with that observation. Her mother’s experience with Lord Winterbourne and a career spent looking into the murky pasts of several callous gentlemen with so-called honorable intentions had left her with few illusions about men.

  That did not mean that she did not have a few lingering romantic inclinations and the perfectly natural curiosity of a healthy young woman. Her memories of her parents’ marriage were good ones, after all, and there were times when she would have given a great deal to know the same kind of intimate happiness her mother had shared with her father.

  But she was all too well aware that the risks of marriage were very great for a woman. She had no interest in the wedded state, which was just as well, given her age and circumstances, but she had toyed with the notion of a discreet affair.

  Unfortunately, such things were easier to contemplate than they were to carry out. For one thing, it was difficult for a woman in her situation to find a suitable man.

  She did not move in social circles. She did not receive invitations and introductions. The handful of respectable gentlemen who had entered her life over the years had failed to inspire any strong emotions in her. Many, such as Marcle, had been much too old. Others had simply been uninspiring.

  It seemed rather pointless to have an affair unless one was infused with a truly grand passion, she thought. Why bother with the risks unless one expected to experience the stimulating emotions and exciting metaphysical feelings that the poets related?

  The sort of feelings, for example, that had swept over her last night when Baxter had kissed her.

  The thought stopped Charlotte cold. Was she actually considering the possibility of having an affair with Baxter St. Ives?

  She looked at the strange design that Drusilla Heskett had drawn in the watercolor sketchbook. The pattern was an enigma. Not unlike her feelings for Baxter.

  Five

  “A lady in your position cannot be too careful, Miss Patterson.” Charlotte smiled at the woman seated across from her. She had a theory that it was good business to compliment a client’s foresight and caution. “You were wise to verify the impression Mr. Adams made.”

  “I told myself I must be careful.”

  “Indeed. But I am happy to inform
you that our inquiries produced no reason to doubt either Mr. Adams’s credibility or the security of his financial situation.”

  “I do not mind telling you that I am enormously relieved to hear that. I do not know how to thank you.” Honoria Patterson, a pleasantly rounded woman with a pretty face and warm eyes, visibly relaxed her fierce grip on the reticule that rested on her lap.

  There was an air of sweet, soft femininity, almost a maternal quality about Honoria, which made her appear a trifle fragile. Charlotte was not deceived. She knew full well that any woman who had kept her spirits strong and optimistic after nearly ten years as a governess was no delicate flower.

  Honoria was typical of many of the clients whom Charlotte assisted. She was nearing thirty and had never been married. After struggling to support herself since the age of seventeen, she had come into a small, respectable, and completely unexpected inheritance.

  Predictably, a handful of suitors had materialized in the wake of the news of Honoria’s good fortune. She had dismissed most of them without hesitation. A governess learned early to be wary of a gentleman’s intentions. But one, William Adams, a widower in his early thirties with two children, had captivated her interest and, apparently, her heart.

  As she had explained to Charlotte, the years she had spent instilling the principles of logic and sound reasoning into her young charges had given her a measure of hard-won wisdom and a healthy sense of caution. A friend who operated an agency for governesses had referred her to Charlotte.

  “I’m delighted to have been of service,” Charlotte said. “Especially so in a case such as this where the results of our inquiries are positive.”

  “I am so very fond of Mr. Adams.” Honoria blushed. “And the children are delightful. But you know how it is. Ladies of our advanced years must question a man’s intentions. After all, the world considers us well and truly on the shelf.”

  On the shelf.

  Charlotte sighed. She was already twenty-five. Where had the time gone? she wondered. It seemed only yesterday that she had been desperate to create a career that would allow her to support herself and her sister. She had devoted all of her energy and passion to the task and somehow five years had gone by in the blink of an eye.

  She did not regret having passed beyond what Society considered a marriageable age for a lady. Business had improved noticeably, in fact, after she began to look as though she were no longer fresh out of the schoolroom. But she could not help wondering now just what she had missed never having known the thrill of passion.

  The sense of wistfulness startled her. She was not lonely. She took great satisfaction in her work. She had her independence. What more could she truly want? Perhaps she had, indeed, been reading too much poetry lately, she thought.

  Nevertheless, she did not want Ariel to follow precisely the same path. The business was important and Ariel was keenly interested in it. But Charlotte did not want her sister to sacrifice everything to it, as she had done. There was no longer such a pressing need. They had sufficient income to keep them in comfortable, if not luxurious, circumstances. If her plans to attract clients from the Polite World proved successful, a bit of luxury would even be possible.

  She would give a great deal to ensure that Ariel had an opportunity to experience some of the innocent pleasures of young womanhood. Such pleasures should have been part of her inheritance. Those advanced years that Honoria had mentioned came all too quickly.

  With the ease of long habit, Charlotte pushed aside the intrusive thoughts. She forced herself to concentrate on her client.

  “A sensible, intelligent woman must be cautious in a situation such as this, Miss Patterson,” she said briskly.

  “After all, it is not as though I am a beauty,” Honoria said in the practical tone of a woman who has long since accepted the facts of life.

  Nor am I, Charlotte thought with a fresh twinge of unease. Last night Baxter’s passion had clearly been induced by the excitement they had shared. She had to be prepared for the possibility that he would no longer find her so alluring now that the stimulating effects of danger had dissipated.

  “And what with this recent inheritance from my cousin,” Honoria continued, “well, I’m sure you comprehend why I felt the need to make inquiries into Mr. Adams’s background.”

  “I understand.”

  “I never expected to marry. Indeed, I had convinced myself that I was quite content with my life now that I am financially independent. But Mr. Adams came along and suddenly I saw other possibilities. We share a great many interests.”

  “I’m delighted for you.”

  This was not the first time that one of Charlotte’s clients had become excessively talkative after receiving good news. Initially, the ladies who sought out her services tended to be tight-lipped and extremely reticent. They were invariably stiff with tension when they first sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. Teacups rattled against saucers. Gloved hands fluttered anxiously. Expressions were solemn.

  When the news was bad, tears usually flowed. Charlotte kept a pile of linen handkerchiefs in one of her desk drawers for such unhappy occasions.

  A favorable report, however, frequently induced a mild euphoria. It made some clients want to chatter endlessly about the recently verified virtues of their suitors.

  Generally speaking, Charlotte simply listened and made encouraging noises. Satisfied clients made excellent, very discreet references. She could afford to be generous with her time during the final interview.

  But this afternoon, Charlotte had an inexplicable urge to do the talking. “I am happy for you, Miss Patterson. And pleased that I was able to confirm your good opinion of Mr. Adams. But you must realize that there is always some risk for a lady when it comes to marriage.”

  Honoria gave her a quizzical look. “Risk?”

  “I have done my best to make certain that Mr. Adams is not a drunkard. He is not given to outrageous wagers. He does not frequent brothels. He has a reliable income and he appears to possess a stable, calm temperament.”

  Honoria glowed. “All in all, a wonderful gentleman.”

  “Yes. But you do realize that I cannot absolutely guarantee that Mr. Adams will remain such a model of masculine perfection after the wedding.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Charlotte leaned forward impulsively. “He could decide to abandon you and his children next year in order to go off in search of adventure in the South Seas. Or he might grow bored with his new life as a husband and take to drinking too much wine. He may suffer a siege of melancholy that will cause him to become extremely unpleasant. There are any number of things that can go wrong in a marriage.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose that is true.” Honoria shifted uneasily in her chair. Her gaze became wary. “I realize that there can be no guarantees in a situation such as this.”

  “Precisely. Yet you choose to go forth along the path that leads toward marriage.”

  Honoria frowned. “You seem a bit agitated of a sudden, Miss Arkendale. Is something wrong?”

  “I am merely wondering why you are so set on marrying Mr. Adams. It is not as if there is no alternative.”

  “I told you, none of the other gentlemen interested me in the least.”

  “That is not what I meant by alternative. Miss Patterson, may I ask you a question that is of a somewhat personal nature?”

  Honoria glanced at the door, as if gauging the distance. “What is it you wish to know, Miss Arkendale?”

  “Forgive me, but I cannot help wondering why you do not consider the possibility of a discreet liaison with Mr. Adams. Why hazard the dangers of marriage?”

  Honoria stared at her. For an instant Charlotte was afraid that she had offended her in an unforgivable fashion. Silently she cursed her impulsiveness. Business was business, after all. She could not afford to go about horrifying her clients.

  “Have an affair, do you mean?” Honoria asked with a refreshing candor.

  Charlotte flus
hed. “It would seem to be an obvious solution. Granted, a young lady could not engage in a romantic liaison without bringing scandal down on her head, but a woman of, ah, our mature years has more freedom. So long as she exercises discretion, of course.”

  Honoria regarded Charlotte with a thoughtful expression. Then an odd little smile curved her mouth. “Perhaps you have been engaged in your present career a trifle too long, Miss Arkendale.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It strikes me that the business of making inquiries into gentlemen’s backgrounds may have given you a rather cynical view of the world and of gentlemen, in particular. Perhaps you have lost sight of the reason why a lady would choose to make such inquiries in the first place.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “An affair may do very well for some people.” Honoria adjusted the strings of her bonnet and got to her feet. “But Mr. Adams and I are both looking for a good deal more.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “It is difficult to put into words, Miss Arkendale. If you do not intuitively comprehend the answer to your own question, I doubt that I can explain it to you. Suffice it to say that one enters marriage with hope.”

  “Hope?”

  “And trust. And a vision of the future.” Honoria gave her a pitying glance. “An affair cannot offer any of that, can it? By its very nature it is an extremely limited connection. If you will excuse me, I must be on my way. I thank you again for your services.”

  Charlotte jumped to her feet, driven by the questions bubbling forth inside her. She suddenly wanted to know what Honoria Patterson sought in marriage that could possibly make it worth the dreadful risk of finding oneself shackled to a man such as Winterbourne.

  There were even worse possibilities, she reminded herself. Possibilities that sprang straight from the heart of a nightmare. What could make it worth the risk of binding oneself to a monster such as the creature who had slithered in the shadows of the hall outside Ariel’s bedchamber five years ago?

  Charlotte realized that Honoria had paused at the door. Her expression was one of grave concern.