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herself, she had been responsible for Ariel since the death of their mother.
    And Ariel had turned out wonderfully well,Charlotte decided. She was a beautiful young lady of
    nineteen. Fair haired, blue eyed, and blessed with classical features and, yes, striking stature, she was
    the living image of their mother.
    Charlottehad had many regrets and doubts in the course of the
    past few years. She had been all too well aware that she could never
    rnake up for what had been lost. Ariel had been only eleven when their tall, handsome, affectionate
    father had died. She had been barely thirteen when they had lost their beautiful, vivacious mother.
    Then Winterbourne had destroyed the inheritance that would have allowed Ariel freedom of choice in so
    many things, including mar riage.
    One ofCharlotte 's greatest regrets was that she had been unable
    to give her sister a Season. With her looks and poise and the education she had received first from their
    beautiful bluestocking mother and thatCharlotte had continued, Ariel would have been a smash ing success. What's more, she thought, her sister would have thor oughly enjoyed the opera and the theater and the excitement of the
    balls and soirees. She had inherited their parents' love of art and
    entertainment. She should have had a chance to meet the people who should have been her social
    equals. She should have had an
    opportunity to dance the waltz with a handsome young man.
    So many things that should have been Ariel's had been lost.Charlotte pulled herself back to the problem
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    at hand. She forced herself to do what she always did when thoughts of the past threatened to lower her
    spirits. She concentrated on the future. And right now that future Included Baxter St. Ives. "I wish I could
    feel as certain about Mr. St. Ives as you do."Charlotte propped her elbow on the morning room table
    and rested her chin on the heel of one hand. "He is a perfect man-of-affairs," Ariel declared.
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    Amanda Quick
    Charlottesighed-It was now quite Clear that she was the only
    e in the household who sensed that there was a great deal more to
    on e eye. Yesterday Ariet and Mrs. Witty, Baxter St. Ives than met th pronounced
    themselves well satisfied the housekeeper, had both so convinced of their imwith Marcle's
    replacement. The two were
    pressiOns thatCharlotte had almost begun to doubt her own instinc tive wariness-ite. She had had a great deal of experience
    Almost, but not qu i such matters assessing gentlemen, after all, and her intuition In
    rarely failed her. She could not dismiss it out of 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
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    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