Seventeen

Two hours later, Baxter prowled restlessly around Charlotte’s parlor. A damp-eyed Juliana Post had been safely packed off for the north in a hired carriage from Severedges Stables. Notice of “a fatal occurrence due to a small house fire” had been sent to the newspapers. With luck it would appear in the morning. Plans for an investigation of the third story of The Green Table were simmering in the back of his mind.

He was making progress on the list of tasks he had assigned himself, but he took little satisfaction from the orderly progression of events. He was in control of the situation, yet he could not escape the sense of a gathering darkness that had nothing to do with the fall of night.

Morgan Judd was alive. It was impossible, but the facts could no longer be denied. The one thing that did not fit was the description of his voice.

“Thank you for all that you did for Miss Post.” Seated in a corner of the yellow sofa, Charlotte watched as he paced past on his way to the opposite end of the room. “You were most kind, Baxter.”

“You were the one who went to warn her and thereby saved her life.” Baxter paused in front of the window and clasped his hands behind his back. “Considering her record in this affair, it would be interesting to know just why you feel so protective of her.”

“I suppose it’s because she and I have so much in common,” Charlotte said quietly.

“What in God’s name can you possibly have in common with that woman?”

“I would have thought it obvious. We are both descended from families whose fortunes had, to put it delicately, declined. We had both been left to deal with callous, dishonorable men who had control over our lives and our incomes. We both found a way to create careers for ourselves that enabled us to escape the usual fates of women in our situations.”

Baxter threw her an enigmatic glance. “Your careers also allowed you to avoid the risks of marriage, did they not?”

“Indeed. Although poor Juliana managed to get involved with a man who appears to be more deadly than the average husband. Which only goes to prove that an affair can be just as dangerous as a marriage, I suppose.”

Baxter adjusted his spectacles. “I hardly think Miss Post’s case is typical.”

“Perhaps not.” Charlotte grew thoughtful. “Nevertheless, I wonder if it would be worth my while to offer my services to ladies who are contemplating a romantic liaison as well as to those who are considering marriage.”

She’s serious, Baxter thought. He suddenly became aware of the fact that his jaw was locked in place. He swallowed to release some of the tension. “I doubt that there would be much call for that sort of thing.”

“You may be correct. It is passion that usually governs one’s decision to become involved in an affair, and when one is consumed by such a strong emotion, one is not terribly interested in facts.”

“Indeed.”

“And everyone knows that passion is a fleeting, short-lived sensation. When it has run its course, one can simply end the affair. Not at all like marriage, which requires more discretion and sound logic because one is, after all, stuck with one’s husband for life.”

Stuck. He sighed inwardly. “Indeed.”

“Yes, I do believe you have the right of it, Baxter. There would likely be few clients who would employ me to investigate a potential lover.”

“You appear to have sufficient demand for your services as it is.”

“Yes, well, enough of business. I saw the look on your face when Miss Post spoke of Malcolm Janner. You know him, do you not? Who is he, Baxter? And how on earth did you make his acquaintance?”

He forced himself back to the matter at hand. “If my suspicions are correct, his real name is Morgan Judd.”

“Judd?”

“I am sorry to say it, but we were friends at Oxford.”

“Friends?” Her voice sharpened in disbelief. “Did you share the same bond with this Morgan Judd that you did with Anthony Tiles?”

“Yes. Morgan was also a bastard. He was the offspring of the heir to an earldom and the daughter of country gentry. His mother died in childbirth. His father ignored his existence but his mother’s family saw to it that he was educated as a gentleman. I do not think that Morgan ever forgave either of his parents.”

“He blamed them for depriving him of his proper station in life?”

“Yes.”

“Was it only the bond of your mutual lack of legitimacy that connected you to Morgan Judd?”

“At first, yes.” Baxter watched a carriage pass in the street. “But Morgan and I shared something else as well. Something that was even more binding. An interest in chemistry.”

“I believe I begin to understand.”

“At Oxford, they called us the Two Alchemists. We spent every waking moment in the study of chemistry. We set up a laboratory in our lodgings and used our clothing allowances to purchase glassware and equipment. When the others met to drink coffee and read poetry in the evenings, Morgan and I conducted experiments. We lived and breathed science.”

“What happened?” Charlotte asked.

“We drifted apart after Oxford. We corresponded for a time. Exchanged news of the results of our chemical work. But after a while we simply lost contact. Morgan lived in London for a while but we rarely encountered each other.”

“There is more to that part of the story than you have told me,” Charlotte said gently.

“You are perceptive. The truth is that, in addition to chemistry, Morgan had … other interests, which I did not share. Those interests became increasingly important to him after Oxford. He grew obsessive where they were concerned.”

“What sort of interests?”

“He was drawn to the worst hells and the most unpleasant brothels. As time went on, his tastes in such things grew more jaded and debauched. There was something in him that fed on the darker side of life.”

“No wonder your friendship failed.”

“He also became keenly interested in the metaphysical and the occult sciences. At first those subjects were a game to him. He toyed with them in the manner of the Romantic poets. But by the time he left Oxford, it was all much more than an amusing diversion. He had begun to talk of fulfilling his true destiny.”

“Destiny.” Charlotte repeated the word in a soft, troubled voice. “I vow, the word haunts me.”

Baxter turned slowly around to face her. “I saw him briefly on the street once several years ago. He told me that I was a fool because I had not used my knowledge of chemistry to forge a grand destiny for myself.”

“You said that you thought he was dead. What happened to him?”

“Do you recall my small adventure on behalf of the Crown?”

“Baxter, are you telling me that was connected to Morgan Judd?”

“Yes. He was working for Napoleon. Creating lethal chemical vapors intended to be used against our people. I used our past friendship to convince him that I wished to work with him. I told him that I had changed my mind about forging a great destiny.”

“I see.”

“I betrayed him,” Baxter said. “I told him that I wanted to share the wealth and power that Napoleon had promised. But once I had verified what he was about, I destroyed his laboratory and notes. There was a terrible explosion. I barely escaped with my life.”

“The acid,” she whispered.

“He threw it at me in the course of the struggle.”

“Dear heaven. He could have blinded you.”

“Yes, well, I was trying to ruin him at the time.”

“He deserved it.” Charlotte paused. “You believed him dead in the explosion?”

“I was certain of it. A body was found two days later. Burned beyond recognition. But Morgan’s rings were on the fingers of the corpse. There was no reason not to think that it was Judd who had perished.”

“It is very strange.” Charlotte’s voice was so low that it was barely audible. “But I am almost convinced that I once encountered Morgan Judd myself.”

He turned to look at her. “The monster in the hall outside Ariel’s door?”

“Yes.” She shuddered and hugged herself very tightly as though she had suddenly become very chilled. “That night he asked me if I believed in destiny. The man in the black domino who gave me the rose asked the same question.”

“Bloody hell.”

“But the speech of the two men was so vastly different.” Charlotte searched his face. “The monster I met five years ago had a voice that could have lured one down into hell.”

“That is the thing that makes no sense.” Baxter took off his eyeglasses and plucked the handkerchief from his pocket. “Morgan Judd’s voice was a well-tuned instrument. There is no other way to describe it. When he read poetry aloud, his listeners were enthralled. When he spoke, heads turned to listen. He could have given Kean competition on the stage had he chosen to tread the boards.”

“But the magician’s voice is just the opposite. It makes me think of shattered glass.” Charlotte frowned. “Although it is strangely fascinating in a bizarre fashion.”

“If I am right and we are dealing with Morgan Judd, then there are two possible explanations for the change in his voice.”

“What are they?”

“The first is that he is deliberately manipulating it so that he won’t be recognized.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think that is the case. You would have to hear him to understand. His is a voice that has been damaged.”

“Then we must consider the second possibility.”

“What is that?”

“I did not escape that explosion and fire unscathed.” Baxter finished polishing his eyeglasses. “I was marked for life. Perhaps Morgan was also.”

“I don’t understand. Miss Post said nothing about scars or injuries when she described him to us. She said that he was as handsome as Lucifer himself. Except for his voice.”

“There were many unusual and dangerous chemicals in Morgan’s laboratory that night,” Baxter said. “Who knows what caustic vapors were released during the explosion and fire?”

“Do you think that some of them might have been powerful enough to affect a man’s throat if he inhaled them?”

“It’s possible.” Baxter pushed his eyeglasses back onto his nose. “Whatever the case, we know that the magician is dangerous. He killed Drusilla Heskett and he tried to murder Miss Post and young Norris.”

“Baxter, he knows that we are investigating him.”

“Yes. On two occasions he tried to discourage our alliance by attacking your trust in me. By now he must know that he has failed.”

“He most certainly has.”

Baxter smiled faintly. “You do me a great honor, Charlotte.”

“Nonsense. I deal in fact.”

What had he expected? he wondered. Had he really thought that she would tell him she believed in him because her passion for him was so deep? He was turning into an idiot.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I appreciate your support, nonetheless. We must hope that Morgan will assume he is safe for the moment.”

“Because he will believe that the only person who can identify him is dead?”

“Yes, but there is no way to know how long we can continue to make him think that Juliana Post expired from the effects of the incense.”

Charlotte drummed her fingers on the back of the sofa. “We must act quickly.”

“I shall arrange to take a look around the upper floor of The Green Table tonight. In the meantime, we must continue to behave as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. It is imperative that we give no sign to indicate that we are any closer to identifying the killer now than we were yesterday.”

“I assume that means we must attend the usual number of levees and soirees this evening.”

“Yes. And your sister and my aunt must also continue with their customary routine. But I am going to take steps to make certain that all of you are well guarded.”

Charlotte glanced at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I shall hire a pair of Bow Street Runners. One to keep an eye on you, Ariel, and Aunt Rosalind while the three of you are out this evening. The other to keep watch on this house.”

She gave him a wan smile. “I will not argue with you.”

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that.”

“But,” she added quickly, “I really do believe that I can be of assistance to you tonight when you search the premises of The Green Table.”

“No. I forbid you to accompany me and that is final.”

“But, Baxter, you must take someone with you. I won’t hear of you going in there alone.”

Anger, fueled by fears for her safety, swept through him. “Charlotte, this is a deadly affair. You will do as I tell you. There will be no further discussion of the matter.”

“Really, Baxter, you are behaving abominably. You have no right to make every decision. I am the one who launched the investigation and I will not tolerate your high-handed, arrogant manner. You are not my husband, you know.”

Baxter sucked in his breath. “I am very well aware of that, Miss Arkendale. I am only your lover, am I not?”

Someone moved in the parlor doorway. Baxter turned quickly and saw Hamilton standing there.

“I beg your pardon,” Hamilton said. He looked embarrassed. “I told your housekeeper I could announce myself. Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Charlotte said. “Do come in, Hamilton. Ariel is out at the moment but I expect her very shortly.”

Hamilton moved hesitantly into the parlor. “Actually, I came in search of Baxter. His butler told me that he might be here.”

“What do you want?” Baxter asked. “I’m busy.”

“I understand.” Hamilton’s mouth tightened. “I came to offer my assistance.”

“Baxter is making plans to search the top floor of The Green Table tonight,” Charlotte said.

Hamilton glanced at her and then looked directly at Baxter. “Perhaps I can help. I know my way around the premises, at least as far as the floor where the club members gather.”

“I do not require your assistance,” Baxter said swiftly.

Hamilton’s expression tightened.

“Baxter, pray consider his offer,” Charlotte said. “Your brother’s knowledge of the club premises would be extremely useful.”

Baxter flexed his hands. “You don’t understand.”

“Of course I do,” she said crisply. “You feel bound by your oath to your father. You promised to look after Hamilton, not put him in harm’s way.”

“Hell’s teeth, I’m not a child,” Hamilton snapped. “I don’t need a nanny.”

“Quite right,” Charlotte said. She turned to Baxter. “I’m certain that your father did not intend for you to protect Hamilton all of his life. He wanted his heir to mature into manhood.”

Hamilton threw her a grateful look. Then he glared at Baxter. “For God’s sake, I’m two-and-twenty. When is someone going to notice that I am already a man?”

Baxter gazed at him for a long moment. His father’s dying words rang in his head. I know I can trust you to look after Hamilton.

“Your knowledge of the club might prove useful,” he conceded reluctantly. “But the situation is not free of risk.”

“That bloody magician very nearly got my best friend killed this morning,” Hamilton said fiercely. “Who knows what he will do next? I have a right to help expose him.”

Baxter glanced at Charlotte. To his surprise, she had nothing to say. She inclined her head a fraction of an inch in silent encouragement.

When did a boy become a man? Baxter wondered. He did not know the answer because he could not recall ever having been a child. It seemed to him that he had been obliged to uphold the responsibilities of an adult all of his life.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “We shall make our plans. For God’s sake, don’t tell your mother.”

Hamilton’s tense features relaxed into the fabled Esherton grin. “Never. You have my oath on it.”

I hope I do not regret this,” Baxter said later that night.

He stood beside Charlotte at the edge of the dance floor. The Hawkmore affair was a crush. It would be the talk of the ton tomorrow. Tonight, it offered perfect cover.

If Morgan Judd employed spies, they would find it difficult to keep track of anyone in this throng. With luck, no one would even notice when he and Hamilton slipped away to depart for The Green Table.

“I know it was not easy for you to accept Hamilton’s offer of assistance,” Charlotte said. “But this is a perfect opportunity for you to show him that you have faith in him.”

“He still seems so damnably young in so many ways. The very fact that he got involved in The Green Table club is proof that he’s hardly mature.”

“I suspect that Hamilton has learned much from this experience. It’s obvious that Norris’s brush with death had a very sobering effect on him.”

“I cannot deny that. Nevertheless—”

“Look at the bright side, Baxter. Taking Hamilton with you tonight gives you the ideal excuse for refusing my assistance in the venture.”

Baxter smiled in spite of his uneasy mood. “You have a succinct way of summing up a situation, my dear. I wondered why you dropped your demands to accompany me. Now I see that you simply could not pass up the opportunity to help forge a brotherly bond between Hamilton and myself.”

“The bond already exists. You have honored it even as you have denied it.” She fixed him with very serious eyes. “Have a care tonight, Baxter.”

“I’ve told you often enough, it’s not my nature to take foolish risks.”

“No, indeed, you prefer to take calculated risks. To my mind, they are far more dangerous.” She touched the sleeve of his coat. “I shall wait up for you.”

“There is no need. I’ll call upon you in the morning to tell you what we discovered, if anything.”

“No. Please come to see me tonight when you’ve accomplished your task. I do not care how late it is. I will not sleep until I know that you and Hamilton are safely away from The Green Table.”

“Very well.” He looked down at her gloved hand resting on the black fabric of his coat. A flash of intense sensation went through him.

She cares.

For all her wariness of the male sex, Charlotte seemed to trust him. And for all his years of self-imposed solitude, he suddenly knew that he would be very lonely when Charlotte went out of his life.

Whatever this emotion was that had so disrupted his orderly, peaceful existence, it was more than fleeting passion.

An overwhelming sense of urgency gripped him. It had nothing to do with The Green Table. He closed his own hand tightly over Charlotte’s.

“Baxter?” She gave him a quizzical glance. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes.” He struggled to find the words he needed to argue his point in a logical fashion. “When this is finished, I wish to speak to you about the future of our liaison.”

She blinked. “The future?”

“Bloody hell, Charlotte, we cannot go on like this. Surely you can comprehend that.”

“I thought everything was going quite smoothly.”

“An affair is all very well for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?”

“Perhaps even a few months,” he conceded. “But in the end the whole thing becomes quite tedious.”

A great stillness came over her. “Yes, of course. Tedious.”

Relieved that she had grasped the point so quickly, Baxter plunged on. “There is the enormous inconvenience, for one thing.”

“Inconvenience.”

“All that damned scurrying about to find a suitable place to, uh, display our mutual feelings,” he explained. “I mean, it’s all very well to use a laboratory bench, or the carriage, or the library sofa on occasion, but over the long term, I suspect it will prove extremely tiresome.”

“I see. Tiresome.”

“A man of my years prefers the comfort of his own bed.” He had a sudden, extremely vivid recollection of how little a bed had mattered on the few occasions when he had made love to Charlotte. “In the main.”

“Baxter, you’re only thirty-two.”

“Age has nothing to do with it. I was never inclined toward a career as an acrobat.”

She lowered her eyes. “I have always found you to be quite agile, sir.”

He decided to ignore that. “And then there is the constant threat of gossip. It can be quite unpleasant. As we discussed, it might well have an ill effect on your business.”

She pursed her lips. “Yes, I suppose so.”

He cudgeled his brain for other arguments. The most obvious one hit him with a force that twisted his insides. He drew a breath to steady himself. “And you must consider the possibility of pregnancy.”

“I understand that there are devices that a gentleman can wear that will prevent that sort of thing.”

“It may very well be entirely too late,” he said grimly. “That is the great difficulty with an affair, you see. One cannot always control the situation. Charlotte, there are any number of reasons why our liaison cannot go on indefinitely.”

She gazed at him and said not a word. At that moment Baxter would have bargained away the secret of the Philosopher’s Stone to be able to read the expression in her eyes. And then she glanced past his shoulder and smiled.

Hamilton coughed discreetly. “Baxter? According to our plans, it’s time for us to leave.”

“Bloody hell.” Baxter glanced over his shoulder. Hamilton and Ariel stood just behind him. He could only hope they had not overheard the conversation. “Time. Yes. We must be off.”

“Baxter.” Charlotte touched his arm again. “You will remember your promise to call upon me later this evening.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll stop by on the way home to give you a full account.” He nodded brusquely to Ariel and turned to make his way through the crowd toward the entrance.

Hamilton raised one faintly derisive brow and then paused to bend gallantly over both Charlotte’s and Ariel’s hands. They curtsied gracefully.

Baxter stifled a groan. He would only make himself look ridiculous if he turned back now to attempt a more charming leave-taking, he thought.

Hamilton leaned against the green velvet squabs of his sleek, well-sprung carriage and eyed Baxter with amused eyes. “Why don’t you just come straight out and ask her to marry you?”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Baxter muttered.

“I heard enough of the conversation to conclude that you were trying to convince Charlotte to consider a proposal of marriage rather than a liaison. Why beat about the bush?”

“The nature of my association with Miss Arkendale is none of your concern.”

Hamilton idly examined his ebony walking stick. “As you wish.”

“Furthermore, if you dare to mention the word liaison in connection with her name again, I can guarantee that not only will you never take possession of your fortune, you will find yourself lacking several front teeth the next time you try to use your smile to charm a lady.”

“That serious, is it?”

“I suggest we change the subject.”

Hamilton shook his head. “You may be a man of science, brother, but you are hopelessly inept when it comes to dealing with the ladies. You should spend more time reading Shelley and Byron and less studying chemistry.”

“It’s a bit late to try to reshape my entire character. Not much point, in any event.”

“Why do you say that? It’s obvious Charlotte has a tendre for you.”

Baxter was annoyed by the spark of hope that flickered within him. “Do you think so?”

“No question about it.”

“She may care for me but I don’t believe that she cares for the notion of marriage.”

“Well, then, it’s up to you to convince her that marriage to you would be a sound decision.”

Baxter scowled. “That is precisely what I was trying to do when you interrupted me a few minutes ago.”

Hamilton gave him a knowing smile. “Father believed that I had a great deal to learn from you. But perhaps there are a few things that you could learn from me. Feel free to ask for my advice any time you require it.”

“We have a rather more pressing matter on our hands at the moment, in case it has slipped your mind.”

“It has not.”

“Did you bring your pistol?”

“Yes, of course.” Hamilton patted the pocket of his greatcoat. “Two of them, in fact. What about you?”

“I’ve never practiced enough to become a decent shot. I depend upon other tools.”

“What do you mean?”

Baxter removed one of the glass vials from his pocket. He held it out on his palm. “Items such as this.”

Hamilton looked intrigued. “What is it?”

“A sort of instantaneous light. Break the glass and there is a small, very bright explosion. It can light one’s way for two or three minutes or temporarily blind an opponent. If it is held next to combustible material such as kindling, it will ignite a fire.”

“Damned clever. Where did you get these?”

“I make them in my laboratory.”

Hamilton gave him an odd smile. “Perhaps I should have paid a bit more attention to Conversations on Chemistry. When this is over, do you think you might have time to show me how to perform some of your more interesting experiments?”

“If you like.” Baxter hesitated. “It has been a long while since I had a colleague to assist me.”

Hamilton grinned. “Lately I have begun to wonder if I got some of Father’s passion for science, after all.”

Baxter glumly considered his bleak future. “I have begun to suspect that I may have got a bit more of his passion for other things than I had previously believed.”