Affair by Amanda Quick

our heightened emotions.”
    Baxter gazed at her very steadily. “Do you think so?”
    “Yes, of course. It is the only explanation. The threat of violence can open a floodgate of intense passions.”
    “You have had a great deal of experience with this type of thing?”
    “Well, no, not exactly,” she admitted. “But I haveread enough Byron to know that what happened to us just now was not unusual. When one faces danger, all of one’s senses are aroused and … and stimulated.”
    “Good God. You are basing your conclusions on the work of a bloody poet?”
    She was a little hurt by his obvious disdain. “Byron writes very convincingly of the darker passions. He appears to have a sound comprehension of their effects. I feel that one can learn a great deal from his work and the work of the other romantic poets.”
    “That would be laughable were it not so ludicrous.”
    “I am attempting to give you a logical explanation for an event that has clearly troubled you, Mr. St. Ives.”
    He glanced down at her hand, where it rested on his. When he looked up there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Thank you, Miss Arkendale, but I believe I will survive the experience without having to resort to your odd logic. The day I seek explanations and illumination from a damned poet will be the day that I commit myself to Bedlam.”
    She hastily removed her hand from his thigh. Baxter was in a foul mood. There was no point attempting to soothe him tonight.
    “Very well, sir,” she said, determined to sound cheerful and unruffled. “I’m sure that by morning we shall both have forgotten all about the entire affair.”
    He said nothing for the space of several seconds. A couple of thuds outside announced that the coachman had jumped down from the box.
    “That remains to be seen,” Baxter said finally.
    Charlotte drew a steadying breath. “Tomorrow when you call, we shall compare our observations of Mrs. Heskett’s house.”
    “Yes.”
    “I will have had a chance to look through her watercolor sketchbook. Perhaps I shall discover something useful in it.”
    “I doubt that.” Baxter leaned forward and caught her chin on the edge of his hand. “Listen to me and listen well. I shall see you safely inside your house tonight. You will make certain that every window is locked and the doors securely bolted before you retire to bed.”
    She blinked. “Of course, Mr. St. Ives. I always check the locks before I retire. It is a very old habit, I assure you. But I doubt that there is any cause for particular alarm tonight. That villain who accosted us was in no condition to have followed this carriage through the fog.”
    “You may be correct, but you will do exactly as I tell you, nevertheless. Is that clear?”
    Charlotte sensed intuitively that it would not be a sound notion to allow Baxter to gain the upper hand in their association. She must stay in command. “I appreciate your concern, but I am your employer. While I am willing to listen to your advice, you must comprehend that I form my own opinions and make my own decisions.”
    “You will do more than listen to my advice, Charlotte,” Baxter said with an infuriating calm. “You will heed it.”
    The carriage door opened at that moment. Very much aware of the coachman standing politely in the shadows, Charlotte contented herself with a raised brow. “You proved yourself an excellent assistant tonight, sir, but there are no doubt other qualified persons available who could replace you. If you wish to retain your post, you will do well to exhibit at least a modicum of deference to your employer.”
    Amusement glittered briefly in his eyes. “Are you threatening to dismiss me, Charlotte? After all we have been through tonight? I am crushed.”
    His silent laughter was so infuriating that she did not trust herself to respond in front of the coachman. Without a word, Charlotte collected her skirts and prepared to descend from the carriage.
    The coachman handed her down