Affair

One

London: three years later

"You leave me no option but to be blunt, Mr. St. Ives. Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that you are not quite what I had in mind in the way of a man-of-affairs." Kathleen Arkendale clasped her hands together on top of the wide mahogany desk and regarded Edgar with a critical eye. "I am sorry for the waste of your time."

The interview was not going well. Edgar adjusted the gold-framed eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose and silently vowed that he would not give in to the impulse to grind back his teeth.

"Forgive me Ms. Arkendale, but I was under the impression that you wished to employ a person who appeared completely innocuous and uninteresting."

"Quite true."

"I believe your exact description of the detail candidate for the position was, and I quote, a person who is as bland as the potato pudding."

Kathleen blinked wide, disconcertingly intelligent, green eyes. "You do not comprehend me properly sir."

"I rarely makes mistakes, Miss Arkendale. I am nothing if not precise, methodical, and deliberate in my ways. Mistakes are made by those who are impulsive or inclined toward excessive passions. I assure you, I am not of that kind."

"I could not agree on you more on the risks of a passionate nature," she said quickly. "Indeed, that is one of the problems."

"Allow me to read you precisely on what you wrote in your letter to you recently retired man-of-affairs."

"There is no need. I am perfectly aware of what I wrote to Mr. Marcle."

Edgar ignored her. He reached into the inside pocket of his slightly rumpled coat and removed the letter he had stored there. He had read the damn thing so many times before that he had almost memorized, but he made a show of glancing down at the flamboyant handwriting.

"As you know Mr. Marcle, I require a man-of-affairs to take your place. He must be a person who presents an ordinary, assuming apperance. I want a man who can go about his business unnoticed; a gentleman with whom I can meet frequently without attracting undue attention or comment."

"In addition to the customary duties which you have fulfilled so admiringly during the past five years, sir, I must ask that the gentleman whom you recommend possess certain other skills."

"I shall not trouble you with the details of the situation in which I find myself. Suffice it to say that due to recent events I am in need of a stout, keenly alert individual who can be depended upon to protect my person. In short, I wish to employ a bodyguard as well as a man-of-affairs."

"Expense, as always, must be a consideration. Therefore, rather than undertake the cost of engaging two men to fill two posts, I have concluded that it will prove more economical to employ one man who can carry out the responsibilities of both positions."

"Yes, yes, I recall my own words quite clearly," Kathleen interrupted testily. "But that is not the point."

Edgar doggedly continued:

"I therefore request that you send me a respectable gentleman who meets the above requirements and who presents an appearance that is bland as a potato pudding."

"I fail to see why you must repeat aloud everything on the page, Mr. St. Ives."

Edgar pressed on:

"He must be endowed with a high degree of intelligence as I shall require him to make the usual delicate inquiries for me. But in his capacity as a bodyguard, he must also be skilled in the use of a pistol in case events take a nasty turn. Above all, Mr, Marcle, as you well know, he must be discreet,"

He forced himself to study Kathleen with his customary analytical detachment.

She bore little resemblance to most ladies of his acquaintance. In truth, the longer he was in her presence, the more Edgar was convinced that that she was entirely unique.

To his amazement, he found himself reluctantly fascinated in spite of what he knew about her. She was somewhat older than he had expected. Five-and-twenty, he had learned in passing.

In other words, Edgar thought, this is one bloody-minded female.

Her goosy auburn hair was parted in the center above high, intelligent forehead. Kathleen wore a surprisingly modest gown. He could not help but notice her feet. Nicely shaped with dainty ankles.

Edgar looked away. "Forgive me Miss Arkendale, but I seem to have missed your point."

"You will not be my man-of-affairs."

"I am suited for it. May I remind you that your own man-of-affairs has recommended me for this position."

"I make the final decision in this and you will not be."

The silver-haired John Marcle had been in the midst of packing up his household when he had received the last instructions from his soon-to-be former employer. Edgar's timing is perfect.

"Miss Arkendale has been somewhat unusaul." Marcle said as he toyed with his pen. "Are you quite certain you wish to apply for this post?"

"Quite certain." Edgar said. "I'm in need of employment."

"After five years of his man-of-affairs it is uninspiring."

"I am eager for something different," Edgar said earnestly. "It will offer me such excitement."

The only reason he allowed himself because he knew Rosalind well.

Rosalind was concerned about themurder of her friend Duscilla Heskett. The authorities claimed that the woman was shot by a house breaker. Rosalind suspected that the killer was no other than Kathleen Arkendale.

Baxter agreed on his aunt's behalf.

The information leaked that Miss Arkendale happened to be in need of a new man-of-affairs. Edgar seized the opportunity to apply.

Marcle sighed. "She pays extraordinary well."

"You have no notions on why she feels herself to be in danger?"

Baxton was very good in controlling his emotions.