“Our interests have diverged.”
Anthony nodded pensively. “Indeed. You always did have a peculiar penchant for your laboratory. And I have always preferred the hells. But we still have one thing in common, do we not?”
“Yes.” That both of them had been born bastards had drawn them together for a time at Oxford, Baxter knew. Perhaps some remnants of that friendship still survived.
“I confess that I was surprised to see you here this morning. I would not have thought that this was your sort of sport.”
“It isn’t.” Baxter replaced his spectacles. “And if you had any sense, Tony, you’d find something more useful to do with your time than engage in dawn meetings. One of these days you’ll find yourself facing someone whose aim is more deadly than your own.”
“And perhaps one whose powder has not been tampered with?”
Baxter smiled faintly. “I trust you are not making any accusations of fraud. After all, your own seconds witnessed the loading of the powder.”
“Yes, but neither of my seconds is a chemist.” Anthony’s expression was surprisingly wry. “They would not have known if a very clever scientist substituted altered gunpowder.”
“Come now, Tony, everyone heard the powder explode when you pulled the trigger.”
“There was certainly a great deal of sound and fury,” Anthony agreed. “But it signified nothing. The ball is still in my pistol.”
“You don’t need the blood of young Norris on your hands. We both know he’s not your customary quarry. He was not himself when he challenged you.”
“I will grant that it was out of character for him.” Anthony looked thoughtful. “And I will agree that there would have been no great satisfaction in lodging a bullet in him.”
“I am pleased to hear that.” Baxter made to move toward the carriage.
“One more thing, St. Ives.”
“Yes?”
Anthony eyed him from beneath half-closed lids. “You are here this morning, I suspect, because the new Earl of Esherton asked you for help in saving his friend’s life.”
“What of it?”
“Rumor has it that the old earl left you in charge of his fortune and told you to keep an eye on young Hamilton.”
“Your point, Tiles?”
“Your half brother got what should have been yours. You are in an ideal position to destroy the inheritance that was denied to you.” Anthony’s hand tightened into a fist. “Why have you not done so?”
Charlotte’s words echoed in Baxter’s head. Anthony Tiles has obviously allowed the facts of his birth to set him on a path that is almost certain to destroy him. Thank God you have carved out a different destiny for yourself.
He looked at the man who had once been his companion, perhaps even a friend, and sensed a truth that he had never before confronted. His father had not bequeathed him the title but he had given his bastard son something of himself. Anthony had not been so fortunate.
“I will not say that I have not reflected on the past at times,” Baxter said slowly. “But perhaps I have avoided the temptation to dabble in serious vengeance because I discovered a more absorbing interest.”
“Ah, yes, your passion for chemistry.” Anthony’s mouth curved derisively. “But to my mind there is nothing so interesting as revenge.”
“Take some advice from an old acquaintance. See if you cannot find something more amusing than the gaming hells and dueling field. You grow too old for this kind of thing, Tony.”
“I pray you will not lecture me. It is bad enough that you have interfered with this morning’s entertainment.”
“No need to play the complete cynic.” Baxter glanced toward the carriage, where Hamilton and Norris waited. “I’m well aware that you took the noble path in this fiasco. I doubt that you are concerned with my thanks, but you have them.”
“Excellent.” Anthony’s smile was distinctly wolfish. “I may find a use for your gratitude. But I assure you that it is misplaced. I never trouble myself with noble behavior. No profit in it for a bastard.”
“Then perhaps you have simply grown more weary of your current pursuits than you know.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“From where I stood it was possible to see that you aimed slightly high and to the left. Had your pistol not failed you, the bullet would likely have gone past Norris’s ear, not through his chest.” Baxter raised his brows. “I do believe that my involvement in this affair was unnecessary.”
Anthony gave him an odd look. Then, without a word, he turned and walked back toward his phaeton and his self-imposed loneliness.
Baxter watched the other man mount the stylish vehicle and drive off into the fog. He had a sudden image of Anthony gradually becoming a ghost.
Baxter’s insides clenched. That could be me.
On the surface he and Anthony seemed very different. Tiles filled his life with feverish excitement and risk. Baxter preferred the orderly, self-contained world of his laboratory. But they had each in their own way built walls to seal out the emotions that could make them vulnerable.
Those same walls ensured that they would be alone the whole of their lives.
Always in the past Baxter had resented and resisted those who had dragged him temporarily out of his laboratory to undertake some irksome family obligation. When his tasks in the outside world had been accomplished, he had been relieved to retreat back into the predictable, well-regulated gloom of his personal realm.
But this time he was not so eager to return to the comfort of his flasks and crucibles and blowpipes. He no longer wanted to be entirely alone.
• • •
Charlotte studied the plump, rosy-cheeked, gray-haired woman seated at the planked table in front of the kitchen fire. “It was very good of you to come here today, Mrs. Gatler.”
“Mrs. Witty promised me that it would be worth my while.” Mrs. Gatler narrowed her robin’s egg blue eyes. “She also promised that you’d never tell a soul that I talked to you about what happened that night.”
“You have my word on it, I have a reputation for confidentiality.”
“That’s what Mrs. Witty said.” Mrs. Gatler slanted a sidelong glance at Mrs. Witty, who was busying herself with bread dough on the other side of the room.
“You can tell ’er anything, Maggy.” Mrs. Witty gave her a reassuring wink. “Knows how to keep a secret, she does.”
“Another cup, Mrs. Gatler?” Charlotte picked up the teapot.
The arrival of Drusilla Heskett’s former housekeeper had taken her by surprise. Ariel had left the house less than half an hour earlier on a shopping expedition with Rosalind. Baxter had sent a message around assuring her that the duel had ended safely but he had not yet come to call.
She had been writing down notes about the investigation, trying to make some connections in her mind, when Mrs. Witty had triumphantly announced the arrival of Drusilla Heskett’s housekeeper.
“Took me some doing to find her,” Mrs. Witty had confided en route to the kitchens. “She didn’t particularly want to be found.”
“I believe I will have some more tea,” Mrs. Gatler said. “Bit of a novelty, y’know, havin’ the lady of the house pourin’ tea for me.”
Charlotte smiled blandly. “My pleasure.” She did not tell her guest that she would have been equally happy to pour gin if it would have loosened her tongue. “Now, then, about the murder.”
Mrs. Gatler darted one last glance at Mrs. Witty and then she leaned forward. “He didn’t know I was there, y’see.”
“Who didn’t know?”
“The one who shot her dead. Mrs. Heskett had given the staff the night off. She often did that when she was expectin’ Lord Lennox to call.” Mrs. Gatler chuckled. “Those two liked havin’ the freedom of the whole house when they went at it. Kitchen, cellar, drawing room, you name it. All over the place, they was.”
“Stamina,” Charlotte murmured.
“You can say that again. Well, I was suppo
sed to go to my sister’s that night but at the last minute I changed me mind. Wasn’t feeling up to it. Decided I’d stay home and take a tonic for the pains. I was in my room behind the kitchens when I heard him in the hall.”
Charlotte frowned. “Whom did you hear? Lord Lennox?”
“No, no, not him. Always knew when Lennox was in the house.” Mrs. Gatler shook her head in admiration. “Those two made a lot of noise. It was amazing, it was.”
“Please continue, Mrs. Gatler. Did the man in the hall make a commotion?”
“No. That’s what was so odd. Arrived silent as the dead. Only reason I knew he was there was because I heard Mrs. Heskett speak to him.”
Charlotte stilled. “She knew him, then?”
“Don’t think so. She seemed startled to see him. Demanded to know what he was doing in her house.”
“You say you heard him in the hall. Didn’t he knock on the front door?”
“No.” Mrs. Gatler’s brows furrowed. “I would have heard him. I figured he must have had a key.”
“A key?”
“Mrs. Heskett was in the habit of giving keys to her favorite gentlemen friends.” Mrs. Gatler shrugged. “Lennox had one.”
Charlotte exchanged a look with Mrs. Witty. Then she turned back to her visitor. “What happened next?”
“Well, I heard the two of ’em talk for a while there in the hall. Leastways, I heard Mrs. Heskett. Couldn’t rightly hear him. His voice was pitched real low. But I knew that he was saying something because every so often Mrs. Heskett answered.”
“Did you go out into the hall to see if your mistress needed anything for her guest?”
“No, I certainly did not. It was supposed to be my night off. If Madam had known that I was around, she’d likely have sent me to the kitchens to prepare a cold collation for her gentleman friend.” Mrs. Gatler grimaced. “The quality never remembers staff’s night off when they’ve got something they want done. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Witty?”
Mrs. Witty made a commiserating noise and went back to kneading the bread dough.
Charlotte poured more tea. “Please continue with your story, Mrs. Gatler.”
“Well, let me see. Where was I?” Mrs. Gatler frowned. “Not much more to tell. After a while Mrs. Heskett and the gentleman went upstairs. A few minutes later I heard the shot. Sent me into a panic, it did. I swear, I couldn’t even move for the longest time. Then I heard him on the stairs.”
“You heard the killer’s footsteps?”
“I heard his voice.” Mrs. Gatler gave a visible shudder. “Mrs. Heskett’s spaniel must have got in his path. He swore at the little beast. Told it to get out of his way.”
“Tell me everything you heard, Mrs. Gatler.”
“I think he must have kicked the poor dog. I heard it yelp. Next thing I know, there’s footsteps coming down belowstairs into the back hall. Went right past my room. I just held my breath and prayed. Never been so terrified in my life.”
“Did the man pause?”
“No, thank the good Lord. He went straight on out through the kitchens. I didn’t leave my room until I was sure he’d gone. Then the dog started to howl. After a while I went upstairs. That’s when I found Mrs. Heskett. She was just lying there in a pool of blood. It was terrible. I don’t believe that she died instantly.”
“Why do you say that?” Charlotte asked quickly.
Mrs. Gatler looked uncomfortable. “She’d sort of dragged herself across the carpet. Got as far as the wardrobe. She’d opened a drawer. There was blood all over the wood. Probably tried to haul herself to her feet. It was dreadful.”
No, Charlotte thought. Drusilla Heskett was not trying to stand. She used her last ounce of life to hide the sketchbook. She knew it held the only clue that could point to her killer.
“Why didn’t you summon the magistrate immediately?” Charlotte asked. “Why did you not come forth to tell what had happened?”
Mrs. Gatler looked at her as though she was not very bright. “D’you think I’m mad? I was the only one in the house that night. The authorities would have assumed that I was the murderer. Staff always gets the blame in a situation such as that, y’know. I’d likely have been arrested. They’d have said I was caught trying to steal the silver or some such thing.”
Charlotte drummed her fingers on the table. “What, precisely, did the killer say when he stumbled over the dog?”
“What? Oh, yes. On the stairs.” Mrs. Gatler swallowed the remains of her tea and looked up with a troubled expression. “I think he said, ‘Get out of my way, you bloody cur.’ Or something similar. But to tell you the truth, it wasn’t the words that stuck in my head. It was the voice.”
Charlotte froze. “The voice?”
“Real rough and hoarse.” Mrs. Gatler shuddered again. “Made me think of rocks rolling around inside a coffin.”
“Dear God.” Charlotte very nearly stopped breathing. The man who had given her the rose and the note was the same one who had murdered Drusilla Heskett. She had actually stood face-to-face with Drusilla’s killer.
No, not quite face-to-face, she reminded herself. The man in the black domino had worn a mask. There was only one person who might be able to put that graveled, broken voice together with a face.
“What’s wrong, Miss Charlotte?” Mrs. Witty brushed the flour from her hands and frowned in concern. “You look as though you’ve been hit by a thunderbolt.”
“The man who employed Juliana Post to tell me those falsehoods about Mr. St. Ives was likely the same man who gave me a note last night.” Charlotte rubbed her temples as she tried to reason out the logic of the situation. “It has to be the same man.”
“How can you know that?” Mrs. Witty demanded.
“The stratagem was the same in both instances. In each case an attempt was made to make me believe the worst of St. Ives.” Charlotte flattened her palms on the table and pushed herself to her feet. “And that man is very likely the murderer. Oh, my God, I must hurry.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Witty called as Charlotte dashed across the kitchen.
“To see Juliana Post.” Charlotte paused briefly in the doorway. “I fear that she is in grave danger. I must warn her.”
“But, Miss Charlotte—”
“Mr. St. Ives will be calling soon. When he arrives, kindly tell him where I have gone.”
Mrs. Witty scowled. “Why ever would Miss Post be in danger?”
“Because she is the only one who may be able to identify the killer. I can only hope that he has not yet realized that she is a threat to him.”
Sixteen
“While you spoke with Tiles, Norris confided to me that he can recall nothing connected directly to the duel.” Hamilton turned to pace back across the library. “He doesn’t remember the instructions he received when the magician put him into a trance. He does not even recollect the experiment.”
“Did he give you any reason for calling Tiles out?”
“No. None. He does not remember the act. He claims that it was not until he fired his pistol that he suddenly realized that he was confronting the most dangerous duelist in all of London. And he did not even know why.”
“Does he recall that you and the other club members attempted to dissuade him from going forward with the duel?”
“No.” Hamilton came to a halt in front of a wall of books. He grasped the rail of the library steps. “As you saw, he was obviously badly shaken by the whole incident.”
One glance at Norris’s bewildered, utterly exhausted expression had convinced Baxter that a serious interrogation of the young man would be useless. He had reluctantly instructed the coachman to set Norris down in front of the large Lennox mansion. Hamilton had seen his friend indoors and then returned to the carriage to accompany Baxter home. Neither had said a word until they walked into the library.
“When Norris recovers, he will discover that he has acquired himself an enviable reputation,” Baxter said. “He is, after all, one of v
ery few men who has had the audacity to call out Anthony Tiles and survive unharmed.”
“True.” Hamilton’s mouth quirked in spite of his obviously somber mood. “It’s rather ironic, is it not? Norris is the most even-tempered, good-natured man I have ever met and now he will be known as a bold and dashing man of the world, a reckless, neck-or-nothing out-and-outer.”
“Should do wonders for his social life. I trust his new image will not go to his head.”
“Unlikely.” Hamilton’s smile faded. “He is grateful to be alive. The last thing he wants to do is risk his neck anytime soon.”
“As he appears to have no memory of the affair, I must rely upon you for information. Will you help me discover the identity of this quack you call a magician?”
Hamilton turned to face him. His eyes were bleak, his mouth grim. He looked a good deal older than he had yesterday, Baxter thought.
“Yes, I’ll do whatever I can,” Hamilton said. “I’m well aware that I’m in your debt, Baxter.”
“You owe me nothing.”
“What the devil do you mean by that? You saved my friend’s life. I cannot begin to repay you. Neither can Norris.”
“You were the one who took steps to save Norris’s neck. You put aside your personal feelings and came to me for assistance. That took courage, will, and resourcefulness.”
Hamilton flushed. For a moment he looked as confused as Norris had after the duel. “I did not know where else to turn. I had tried logic and reason on Norris. He did not respond to my pleas or my arguments. We could not find the magician. I was desperate.”
“I know. You did what you believed necessary to save a friend’s life, even though it meant asking my help. I know how difficult that must have been. If Norris is grateful to anyone, he should be grateful to you.”
“I was not the one who knew how to alter the chemicals in the gunpowder.”
Baxter shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe that Tiles would have shot Norris in cold blood.”
“Everyone knows Tiles is utterly ruthless.”
“That is certainly his reputation. But he had nothing against Norris.”
“The lack of a reason would not have stopped a man of Tiles’s nature.” Hamilton frowned. “Do you think he suspects that something was wrong with the gunpowder?”