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hand.
    But she Was baffled by the fact that the others could not see past
    tacles to the truth that blazed there. the lenses of Baxter's spec           . chemistry but in her opinion,
    He claimed to have an interest in   The man had the eyes of an
    he was no modern man of science.                     d with the search
    mist, one of those legendary seekers obsesse                 asily alche                        the Philosopher's Stone. She could   .e for the mystical secrets Of                          ting experiments envision him   hunched over a fiery crucible, concoc
    that would enable him to transmute lead into gold.
    Intense intelligence@ unrelenting determination@     and a will of
    iron burned in the amber depths of his eyes. The        same qualities
    were etched into his blunt, strong face. She had sensed something else in him, too, something that she could not quite define. A hint
    of melancholia perhaps. Which, now that she considered it, was not
    unexpected.                tistic tradition of depicting that dark, wist-
    There was a long ar ful emotion with the emblems of alchemy. Those who engaged in an
    endless quest for nature's arcane secrets were no doubt doomed to
    experience episodes of despair and disappointment.
    Baxter St. Ives was far and away the most interesting man       .sh
    had ever met, Charlotte admitted to herself. But the same qualities
    that made him intriguing could also make a man dangerous. At the
    very least) they made him less than pliable.          nstructions with-
    She required a man-of-affairs. who would take i
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    out argument, not one who would demand constant explanations and Justifications. She did not think that Baxter would be easily ordered about. At best, he was likely to prove difficult. "Perhaps now that Mr. St. Ives has a new post, he will be able to afford a new tailor." Ariel chuckled as she carried her plate back to
    the table. "His coat certainly did not fit him very well and his waistcoat was quite plain. Did you notice that he was wearing breeches instead of trousers?" "I noticed."
    She would have been blind had she failed to observe the manner
    in which the snug breeches had revealed the sleekly muscled outline of his thighs, she thought. She summoned up the memory of Baxter as he sat across from her attired in a rumpled blue coat, unpleated linen shirt, and the conservative breeches and unpolished boots. She frowned slightly. "His clothes were of excellent quality." "Yes, but sadly unfashionable, even for a gentleman in his position." Ariel took a bite of sausage. "And his neckcloth was tied in a very mundane manner. I fear our Mr. St. Ives has no sense of style at all. "
    "One does not look for style in a man-of-affairs." "Precisely." Ariel winked. "Which only goes to prove that he is just what he appears to be, a gentleman badly in need of a position. Probably a second son from the country. You know how that is."
    Charlotte fiddled with her coffee cup. "I suppose so." It was common knowledge that many second and third sons of the country gentry who were not in line for the family farm were obliged to make their livings as men-of-affairs. "Cheer up," Ariel said. "I'm quite sure stodgy old Marcle would not have sent St. Ives to you unless he was suitably qualified."
    Charlotte watched as her sister attacked the eggs and sausages on her plate. Her own appetite was normally quite sharp in the mornings but today she was barely able to contemplate the cup of Coffee in front of her.

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    Amanda Quick
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    Charlotte sighed. It was now quite clear that she was the only one in the household who sensed that there was a great deal more to
    Baxter St. Ives than met the eye. Yesterday Ariel and Mrs. Witty, the housekeeper, had both pronounced themselves well satisfied with Marcie's replacement. The two were so convinced of their