Affair (40 page)

“Quite true.” Baxter set his pistol on a nearby table.
Then he looked at Charlotte. “Are you all right, my dear?”

His voice was as calm and emotionless as ever but his eyes blazed hotter than the flames of the pit. Charlotte had to swallow twice before she could answer.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m unhurt. What about you, Baxter?”

“Perfectly fit, as you see.” He turned his attention back to Morgan. “What the devil is this all about?”

Morgan sighed. “Your interference in my affairs was a nuisance at first but then I began to view it as a most intriguing challenge. One can hardly ignore the workings of one’s own destiny, after all.”

“Indeed.” Carrying his coat over his arm, Baxter walked slowly across the carpet to the nearest window. He stood gazing out into the night with a thoughtful expression. “Interesting subject, destiny. The ancient philosophers believed that one’s character is the key to one’s fate.”

“Indeed,” Morgan murmured. “I am in complete agreement.”

Charlotte watched him with tense anticipation. Although he kept the pistol aimed in her general direction, his attention was entirely upon Baxter.

Baxter turned his head at that moment and glanced at her over his shoulder. His face was unreadable but there was an intensity in his gaze that riveted her. He was trying to convey some message. She sensed that he wished her to do something.

But what could he expect from her? she wondered. There was little she could do in her present circumstances.

Except talk.

Of course. If Baxter had a plan, and she was certain he
would not have entered this chamber without one, then he no doubt wished her to distract Morgan Judd while he implemented his scheme.

“Why have you gone to the trouble to bring us here tonight, Mr. Judd?” she demanded in her sharpest tones.

Morgan looked briefly at her. “It is not often that one has the opportunity to engage in conversation with people who can appreciate one’s abilities.”

“Rubbish. Surely you are not so vain that you felt you must drag us here merely to boast.”

“You misjudge him, my dear,” Baxter said. “Morgan’s vanity knows no bounds. But that is not why he kidnapped us, is it, Morgan?”

“As pleasant as it is to be among those who have the intellect to grasp the greatness of my plans,” Morgan said, “I must confess, there was another reason why I went to the trouble of bringing you here tonight.”

“We got too close, too quickly, did we not?” Baxter’s smile was fleeting. “You want to know how we managed the trick.”

“Very succinctly put, St. Ives. I thought that getting rid of the Heskett woman would most likely be the end of it. But as one Can never be positive about such things, I set someone to watch her house. I knew from my man’s description that it was you who searched the premises that night. And when I learned that you had become intimately involved with Miss Arkendale, I realized that she must have been the woman who accompanied you.”

Baxter nodded. “Your man told you that we had taken something from Drusilla Heskett’s house.”

“A book of some sort, he said. He told me that the lady was the one who had carried it away and that she appeared to be very much in command of the situation.” Morgan made a rasping sound that was no doubt meant to
be a laugh. “I could not believe he had got it right but I decided to search her house in any case.”

“You took the sketchbook,” Charlotte accused.

“When I saw that there was nothing incriminating in it, I again dared to hope that that would be the end of things.” Morgan shook his head. “But the two of you continued your alliance.”

“Which you tried to destroy first by sending Juliana Post to Charlotte with a pack of lies and then by giving her the note warning her that I could not be trusted.”

Morgan shrugged. “Obviously neither attempt shook her trust in you. I must congratulate you, St. Ives. I would never have guessed that you could summon up the degree of charm that it requires to induce such touching loyalty in a woman. Who would have thought you the romantic sort?”

Baxter ignored him. “Why in God’s name did you find it necessary to murder Drusilla Heskett?”

“I’m afraid that Mrs. Heskett was quite indiscriminate in her choice of paramours. She formed a very short liaison with a man in whom I had been obliged to place a certain amount of trust. I do try to avoid telling anyone my most closely kept secrets, but sometimes it cannot be helped. One cannot do everything for oneself, after all. One needs one’s man-of-affairs.”

Charlotte was astonished. “Mrs. Heskett had a liaison with your man-of-affairs?”

“From all accounts, she tended to be quite democratic in such matters. In any event, my man apparently got drunk one evening and showed her one of my medallions. He told her that he knew a great deal about me and that he was biding his time. When I had acquired the power and wealth I sought, he intended to blackmail me. I believe he went so far as to assure her that he was an
excellent candidate for marriage because his future expectations were very favorable.”

“Mr. Charles Dill,” Charlotte whispered. “He was one of her suitors.”

“Indeed.”

“I did not recommend him,” Charlotte said. “My own man-of-affairs said that Mr. Dill was inclined toward unscrupulous dealings.”

“He was correct,” Morgan said dryly. “But, then, I require that in a man-of-affairs.”

“How did you learn that Mr. Dill had confided in Mrs. Heskett?” Charlotte asked.

Morgan arched one black brow. “I make it a habit to periodically place those who are closest to me into a trance. I question them regarding their loyalty. They recall nothing of the interrogation afterward, of course.”

“When you discovered that Mr. Dill intended to betray you and had said something of his plans to Mrs. Heskett, you decided to murder both of them,” Baxter said from the windows.

“It was the only logical course of action,” Morgan explained. “Getting rid of Dill was a simple matter. I added more potent incense to the brazier after I had finished questioning him. He never came out of the trance. When his body was discovered two days later, it was assumed he’d had a heart seizure.”

“Then you set out to murder Mrs. Heskett,” Charlotte said. “You made two attempts on her life and when those failed, you went to her house and shot her in cold blood.”

“It’s not always convenient to use the incense and the mesmerism,” Morgan said. “And I do feel it’s prudent to change one’s methods from time to time. Predictability is not a virtue.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “I doubt that you need to worry overmuch about being burdened with too many virtues.”

“I do so enjoy that sharp tongue.” Morgan looked at Baxter. “What did you discover in Mrs. Heskett’s sketchbook?”

“Why should he answer?” Charlotte shifted position on the bed, curious to see if she could draw Morgan’s attention with movement. “You will murder us as soon as you have learned what you wish to know.”

“I shall indeed have to kill St. Ives,” Morgan agreed. “He is aware that I cannot possibly allow him to live. Now that he knows I am alive and on the brink of fulfilling my destiny, he would not rest until he had destroyed my plans. St. Ives is nothing if not tenacious.”

“You can hardly expect him to tell you what you want to know, then,” Charlotte said in a loud voice.

Morgan did not look at her. His attention remained focused on Baxter. “He will tell me because I am willing to bargain with him for your life, my dear.”

Charlotte went cold. “Do not expect me to believe that. I am as much of a threat to your schemes as Baxter is. I know the same things he does. And I, too, will not rest until you have been brought down.”

Morgan spared her a dismissive glance. “You are merely a woman and not a particularly charming one at that. But you do have a few marketable qualities with which to attract a man in my position. Your bloodlines are quite respectable. Not excellent, mind you, but good enough for my purposes.”

“My bloodlines.” Charlotte was stunned.

“Even more important, you have demonstrated superior intellect for a woman and a degree of boldness and courage that I wish to breed into my own offspring.”

“Good God, sir, are you mad?” Charlotte whispered.

“As my wife, you will be in no position to testify against me.” Morgan gave her a thin, cruel smile. “And every position to supply me with an heir.”

“Your
wife
. Impossible.” She got to her knees on the bed and regarded Morgan with scathing fury. “There is nothing on this earth that could induce me to marry you, sir.”

“Ah, but there is.” Morgan’s cold eyes met hers for a brief, terrifying moment. “Mesmerism.”

“Your techniques would never work with me.”

“Do not be so certain of that. I perfect them daily. The right dose of incense together with the proper application of my scientific method of inducing a trance will turn you into the perfect wife, my sweet.”

Charlotte’s mouth was suddenly very dry. “I do not believe that any amount of incense or mesmerism can overcome my hatred of you. But even if it’s true, the effects would only be temporary. Sooner or later I will come out of the trance and when I do, I shall find a way to kill you.”

“That prospect should lend a certain fillip to our married life, eh?” Morgan gave a short croak of laughter. “Perhaps it will stave off the inevitable boredom that comes with a too-willing woman.”

“Even if it were possible, and I assure you it is not, why would you wish to marry a woman who despises you so completely?”

Morgan’s smile should have been a thing of beauty, but it turned Charlotte’s blood to ice.

But it was Baxter who answered. His voice was soft, utterly devoid of emotion. The voice of the detached scientist making an observation. “Because you have belonged to me, of course.”

Charlotte could scarcely breathe. She stared at Baxter’s broad shoulders and could not find a single word to say.

“Precisely,” Morgan said with husky satisfaction. “Every time I spread your thighs, Charlotte, I shall revel in my victory over the only man who ever came close to being my equal.”

“You truly are quite mad,” she whispered.

Anger flashed in Morgan’s eyes. He looked at Charlotte with contempt. “Come now, my love, you owe me a great deal. You are an honest woman. I should think you would want to repay me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was I who arranged for your stepfather to end up floating in the Thames the morning after you and I met. I altered your destiny that night. What would you have done if I had not got rid of Winterbourne for you?”

“You certainly did not murder him for my sake,” she flung back. “You must have done it because he could not pay the gaming debt he owed to you.”

Morgan raised one shoulder in another graceful shrug. “I admit you have me there. You’re right, I did not do it for your sake.”

Baxter turned casually away from the window and walked toward the brandy table. “Tell me, how did you manage to escape the castle that night in Italy?”

Morgan’s head snapped around very quickly. “That is far enough, St. Ives. Not another step.”

Baxter halted. “Very well. But be so good as to satisfy my curiosity.”

“There was a hidden tunnel that led out of the laboratory.” Morgan’s mouth twisted. “I managed to get into it in time to escape the flames but I could not outrun the
gases that were formed when the chemicals caught fire. I nearly choked to death on those foul vapors.”

“Your voice was ruined by those gases, was it not?”

Fury, a dark shadow cast by a thunderous cloud, passed over Morgan’s face. “You did this to me,” he rasped. “And tonight you will finally pay for it.”

“How dare you?” Charlotte shouted. “You tried to murder Baxter that night.”

“Silence.” Morgan flicked her another annoyed glance before he turned back to Baxter. “I think we’ve had quite enough reminiscing for the moment.”

“I agree,” Baxter said.

“Tell me what you found in Drusilla Heskett’s watercolor sketchbook that pointed in my direction,” Morgan said. “Tell me now, St. Ives, or I will kill your mouthy Charlotte.”

“We found a very interesting sketch.”

“Baxter, no,” Charlotte said. “Do not tell him anything. He will kill you.”

“Shut your mouth, Miss Arkendale,” Morgan snarled, “or I shall do it for you.”

Charlotte promptly opened her mouth again to tell him what she thought of him but she never got the chance.

With a sudden, terrifying rush of unseen wind and a crack of sound, the heavy drapes at the window where Baxter had been standing a moment earlier, erupted into flames.

Morgan froze for an instant. Pure terror etched his handsome face. “No,” he whispered. “No, god damn you, no.”

“Bring back a few memories?” Baxter asked evenly. “Certainly does for me.”

Morgan shuddered and then made an obvious effort
to collect himself. He aimed the pistol at Baxter with shaking hands. “I’m going to kill you now. I shall get the information I need from your woman. And I will take great pleasure in doing so. Think of me between her legs as you die.”

Charlotte saw Morgan’s fist tighten around the pistol.

She opened her mouth and gave a bloodcurdling scream.

Morgan flinched at the earsplitting sound.

Then, with a roar, the small fire on the hearth suddenly exploded into a great blaze. The tongues of flame shot past the fire screen, the talons of a great beast seeking prey.

“No.” Morgan took a faltering step back and came up against the edge of the large bed.

Flanked by pillars of fire, Baxter walked slowly and deliberately toward Morgan. “There is no time,” he said. “You must flee.” The flames soared behind him as he went steadily toward Morgan.

Charlotte knew that he was counting upon Morgan’s fear to supersede his deadly intent but she did not trust that factor. Another distraction was needed.

Crouched on her knees, she reached up and seized the silk fringe of the scarlet bed drapes. She pulled downward with all of her might.

The heavy hangings fell, an avalanche of crimson fabric. Some of it landed across Morgan’s head and shoulders.

The rest of it crashed down on Charlotte. She was buried in a mass of dusty red velvet.