Affair (20 page)

The housekeeper opened a door on the far side of the hall. “Please go on in, Mrs. Witty. I’ll fetch Miss Post.”

Charlotte swept into the small parlor and halted, astonished.

She found herself in an exotic chamber decorated in the Eastern style. Everything was done in shades of crimson and black. The lingering scent of incense was strong although the brazier was unlit.

It was midday but in there it could have been midnight. The heavy red velvet drapes were pulled across the windows, throwing the parlor into an unnatural gloom. Great swaths of red and black ceiling hangings billowed low over the scene. The only light came from two tall lotus-flower candelabras.

There were no chairs but a number of crimson pillows trimmed with black fringe were arranged on the red and black carpet. A low, scarlet sofa was placed near the hearth.

In the center of the room a small ebony stand held a deck of cards.

“Mrs. Witty?” Juliana Post spoke from the doorway. “I’m afraid that I do not recall our appointment but I believe that I can accommodate you.”

Charlotte removed her bonnet and turned slowly.

Juliana had already changed her attire. She now wore flowing scarlet robes and a great number of beads.

“I did not make an appointment,” Charlotte said.

Juliana stiffened. “It’s you.” Something that might have been fear flickered in her eyes. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“It was not difficult.” Charlotte examined Juliana’s newly slimmed figure and smiled grimly. “I assume that you are no longer concerned about being cast out into the streets and ruined forever?”

Juliana flushed. “It would be best if you left now, Miss Arkendale.”

“I do not intend to leave here without an explanation.”

“I have no explanations to give.”

Charlotte said nothing for a long moment. Then she walked over to the small ebony table. “These are not the sort of cards one uses for whist.”

“No.”

Charlotte bent down to pick up the deck. She examined the ornate decorations on the backs of the cards and then she glanced at the strange figures on the facing sides. She had seen such cards used once long ago at a masquerade party.

“Do you tell fortunes, Miss Post?”

Juliana watched her warily. “I read the cards in order to advise young ladies in matters of love and marriage.”

“For a fee.”

Juliana’s smile was cold. “Naturally.”

“When your housekeeper answered the door just now she assumed that I had an appointment. Did she think that I had come here to have you read the cards for me?”

“Yes.”

Charlotte glanced meaningfully around the room. “I must commend you on your establishment. You have created
a most intriguing atmosphere in which to practice your profession.”

“Thank you.”

“It would seem that your business is a profitable one.”

“I manage.” A bitter anger flashed across Juliana’s face. “I have become quite the rage among a certain set of fashionable young ladies. Some of them find it amusing to have me read their fates in the cards. Others take it more seriously. Either way, they are prepared to pay for the entertainment I provide.”

“Have you been in this career very long?”

“Since shortly after my dear guardian finished off the last of my inheritance.” Cynical amusement lit Juliana’s eyes. “That occurred when I was eighteen. Once the money was gone he no longer found it convenient to have me in his house.”

“He sounds as if he came from the same mold as my stepfather.” Charlotte set down the deck of cards. “Do you know, Miss Post, I believe we may have something in common.”

“I doubt that very much.”

“I, too, have a small business that caters to ladies. And I was also obliged to invent a career for reasons not unlike your own.” She smiled faintly. “At least we both managed to escape the usual fate of women in our situation. Neither of us became a governess or was obliged to walk the streets.”

“Please leave,” Juliana whispered. “You should not have come here today.”

“It is not easy for a woman to make her own way in the world, is it?”

The small bells attached to Juliana’s crimson robes jangled dissonantly. She clenched her hands at her sides.
“Do not think that you can cozen me into telling you what you wish to know. I will tell you nothing.”

“I am prepared to pay for the information I seek.”

Juliana gave a crack of mirthless laughter. “You’re a fool if you think that there is any amount of money in the world that would persuade me to answer your question.”

“Do you feel so much loyalty, then, to the person who hired you to play the part of a cast-off lover?”

“I made a bargain. I have kept my end of it. What happens now is none of my affair. I must insist that you leave at once.”

Charlotte caught her breath as intuition struck. “You are afraid.”

“That is nonsense.”

“Whom do you fear? Perhaps I can assist you.”

“Assist me?” Juliana gave her an incredulous look. “You can have no notion of what you are talking about.”

“Do you know, Miss Post, in other circumstances, I believe we might have been friends.”

“What in the name of God makes you say such a thing?”

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Charlotte said quietly. “I suspect that we have many mutual interests and concerns. For instance, do you send your bills to your clients after their appointments or do you request that they pay you before you provide your services?”

Juliana frowned. “I expect reimbursement at the time of the appointments. I learned long ago that clients have a habit of letting their accounts languish if I wait to send my bills.”

“I learned the same lesson early on in my career.”

Juliana hesitated warily. “What, precisely, is the nature of your career?”

“You mean, you do not even know that much about me?”

“I know nothing about you, except where you live and that you are engaged to Baxter St. Ives. I was employed to act a role and I did so. That was to be the end of it.”

“I see. Well, as we are both engaged in a similar line, I do not mind telling you something about my business. Generally speaking, though, I do try to maintain a degree of confidentiality.”

Juliana was clearly curious, in spite of her uneasy mood. “What services do you provide?”

“Very discreet services. Ladies who have received offers of marriage sometimes seek me out. I make inquiries into the backgrounds of the men who have expressed a desire to wed them.”

“Inquiries? I do not understand.”

“I attempt to verify that my clients’ suitors are not rakehells, gamesters, or fortune hunters. In short, Miss Post, I endeavor to ensure that the ladies who consult with me do not make the mistake of marrying a man such as your guardian or my stepfather.”

“That is astounding. You make these inquiries by yourself?”

“I have some assistants.”

Juliana appeared reluctantly fascinated. “But how do you obtain your information?”

“From many sources. Servants in the household or those employed in gaming hells and brothels supply some of the answers.” Charlotte smiled wryly. “No one ever notices the staff in such places.”

“That is very true.” Juliana shook her head in amazement. “Inquiries into gentlemen’s backgrounds. What an extraordinarily clever notion.”

In spite of the situation, Charlotte was unable to resist a modest smile of pride. “Coming, as it does, from one who also understands the difficulties and rewards of inventing a singular career for herself, that is a great compliment.”

Juliana’s mouth thinned. “It also sounds an exceedingly dangerous business.”

“On the whole I cannot say that I have had any great difficulty.”
Until recently
, Charlotte added silently.

Juliana looked uncertain. She glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected to see someone materialize there. And then she took an urgent step closer to Charlotte and lowered her voice. “You say you feel that, in other circumstances, we might have been friends and colleagues.”

“Yes.”

“Speaking as a person who could have been your friend and colleague, I will give you this advice. I do not know what you have got yourself into that involves Baxter St. Ives, but I do know this much. You would do well to abandon whatever course you have set for yourself that is connected to him.”

Charlotte stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I can say no more.” Juliana flung out a hand to indicate the door. “You must leave at once. Do not return. Ever.”

Charlotte was stunned by the undisguised fear that flickered in Juliana’s eyes. “Very well.” She turned and walked slowly toward the door. “But should you change your mind or wish my help, I pray that you will send a message to me. You have my direction.” She put her hand on the knob.

“Miss Arkendale?”

Charlotte turned. “Yes?”

“You did not believe my little charade this morning, did you?” Juliana searched her face. “Not even for a moment.”

“No, not even for a moment.”

“May I ask why? Am I so poor an actress?”

“You are a very convincing actress,” Charlotte said gently. “But I know Mr. St. Ives rather well. He is not the sort to abandon his own unborn child.”

Juliana grimaced. “You are surprisingly naive, considering your choice of career. I will give you one more piece of advice, Miss Arkendale. Do not trust a man who can make you feel passion. Such men are dangerous magicians.”

“I am only too well aware of the risks. I see them every day in the course of my profession. Good day, Miss Post.” Charlotte let herself out of the incense-laced room and closed the door very quietly.

She did not take a deep breath until she was outside on the walk in front of Juliana Post’s small house.

B
axter pondered the idiotic impulse that had prompted him to request his half brother to pay a visit this morning. He did not understand why he had succumbed to the urge to hold this unpleasant conference but he knew one thing for certain. It had been a mistake.

“Well, Baxter, I have answered your summons.” Hamilton stalked back and forth across the laboratory.

It was not an easy task. He was obliged to wend a twisting path between the workbenches, the air pump, and the large stand that held the great burning lens that Baxter used when he needed to generate the most intense heat for an experiment.

Hamilton was, as usual, dressed to the nines. His
pleated buff-colored trousers, cream-and-rose-striped waistcoat, elaborately tied cravat, and short, double-breasted coat identified him to all and sundry as a man of fashion.

Baxter eyed him thoughtfully. Hamilton’s clothes always fitted him perfectly and he wore them with a natural, seemingly negligent ease. He was tall and lean and graceful in his movements. His tailors loved him. His gloves were perfectly shaped to his long-fingered hands. His neckcloth was always tied in a rakish manner. His boots gleamed.

Hamilton’s attire was never stained with the residue of old chemicals, Baxter thought. His coat was never rumpled. He did not wear spectacles. The old earl, their father, had had the same innate, self-assured elegance and the ability to set the fashion.

Baxter was well aware that he was the one glaring exception to the commonly held view that the St. Ives men did everything with style.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” Baxter said.

Hamilton shot him a quick, searching glance. “I trust you will not waste my time. Have you finally decided to loosen the purse strings?”

Baxter lounged back against one of the workbenches and folded his arms. “Are you short of funds? One would never guess from that expensive new carriage you’ve got parked outside.”

“Damnation, that is not the point, as you are very well aware.” Hamilton whirled around, his shoulders rigid with anger. “I am the Earl of Esherton and I have a right to my inheritance. Father intended for me to have that money.”

“In due course.”

Hamilton narrowed his eyes. “I know that you enjoy the temporary power that you wield over my funds.”

“Not particularly,” Baxter said with great depth of feeling. “I would far rather Father had not burdened me with the task of managing your affairs. It is a bloody nuisance, if you want to know the truth.”

“Do not expect me to believe that. We are both well aware that controlling my inheritance gives you a measure of revenge.” Hamilton came to a halt near the table that held Baxter’s balance instrument. He picked up one of the small brass weights and examined it. “Gloat while you can. I already have the title. In a few years I shall have the fortune.”

“Believe it or not, I expect to survive very nicely without your title or your fortune. But that is not important at the moment. Hamilton, I did not ask you here in order to discuss your financial situation.”

“I should have guessed that you had not changed your mind about the handling of my inheritance.” Hamilton dropped the brass weight back into the pan. He started toward the door. “I may as well be on my way, as it appears that we have nothing to say to each other.”

“Your mother is concerned about you.”

“My
mother.
” Hamilton came to an abrupt halt. “My mother spoke to you about me?”

“Yes. She sought me out last night at one of the affairs I attended with my … fiancée.”

“There is no reason why Mama would do such a thing,” Hamilton exploded. “I cannot imagine her doing it. She can barely tolerate you. The very sight of you causes her pain.”

“I am aware of that. The fact that she talked to me about her concerns is certainly proof of her anxious state.”

Hamilton watched him warily. “What is it that concerns her?”

“Your choice of amusements.”

“That is utter nonsense. She thinks I’m still in leading strings. But I’m a man now. Mother will have to accept that I have a right to enjoy myself with my friends. It’s only natural that I spend more time at my club.”

“About this club you have recently joined,” Baxter said slowly. “What is the name of it?”

“Why do you care?”

“Merely curious.”

Hamilton hesitated and then shrugged. “It’s called The Green Table. But if you are thinking of applying for membership, I suggest you reconsider.” He smiled thinly. “I do not believe that you would find it suitable to a man of your advanced years and unexciting temperament.”