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wear spectacles?" He frowned. "I would have thought that they rather enhanced the impression of potatopudding blandness." "Your spectacles are not the problem." She sounded thoroughly exasperated now.
    "I thought you just said they were the problem." "Haven't you been listening? I begin to believe that you are
    deliberately misunderstanding me, sit. I repeat, you are not qualified for this post." "I am perfectly suited to it. May I remind you that your own
    man-of-affairs has recommended me for this position?"
    Charlotte dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "Mr. Marcle
    is no longer my man-of-affairs. He is even now on his way to a
    cottage in Devon." "I believe he did say something to the effect that he felt he had
    earned a long and peaceful retirement. I gained the impression that you were a somewhat demanding employer, Miss Arkendale."
    She stiffened. "I beg your pardon?" "Never mind. Marcle's retirement is not the issue. What is of importance here is that you called upon him one last time and gave him instructions to find his replacement. He has selected me to take
    over his responsibilities." "I make the final decision in this matter and I say that you will not do, sit." "I assure you that Marcle thought me eminently qualified for
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    the post. He was pleased to write the letter of recommendation that
    I showed to you."
    The silver-haired, dapper John Marcle had been in the midst of packing up his household when he had received his last instructions frofn his soon-to-be former employer. Baxter's timing had been perfect. or so he had thought until he tried to persuade the dubious Marcle that he wished to apply for the position.
    Rather than relief at the prospect of solving his last "Arkendale problem," as he termed it, the conscientious Marcle had felt compelled to discourage Baxter from the outset.
    "Miss Arkendale is, ah, somewhat unusual," Marcle said as he
    toyed with his pen. "Are you quite certain you wish to apply for the post?" "Quite certain," Baxter said.
    Marcle peered at him from beneath a solid line of thick, white brows. "Forgive me, sir, but I do not comprehend precisely why you wish to engage yourself to Miss Arkendale in this capacity." "The usual reasons. I'm in need of employment." "Yes, yes, I understand. But there must be other positions available. "
    Baxter decided to embroider his story a bit. He assumed what he hoped was a confidential air. "We both know how mundane most such posts are. Instructions to solicitors and various agents. Arrangements for the buying and selling of properties. Banking mat-
    ters. All very uninspiring." "After five years as Miss Arkendale's man-of-affairs, I can assure
    you that there is much to be said for the routine and the uninspiring."
    11 1 am eager for something a bit different," Baxter said earnestly. "This post sounds as if it will be somewhat out of the ordinary. Indeed, I sense that it will offer me a certain challenge. 11
    "Challenge?" Marcle closed his eyes. "I doubt that you know the meaning of the word yet, sit."

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    --h-0
    Amanda Quick
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    "I have been told that I am in a rut. It has been suggested that I add an element of excitement to my life, sir. I am hoping that this post will afford me the opportunity to do that."
    Marcie's eyes snapped open in alarm. "You say you seek excitement?" "Indeed, sir. A man of my nature gets very little of that commodity in the normal course of events." Baxter hoped he was not
    overdoing it. "I have always lived a quiet life."
    And what was more, he much preferred his peaceful existence, he thought glumly. This damnable mission that his aunt had
    begged him to undertake was an unwelcome interruption in his placid routine.
    The only reason he had allowed himself to be talked into it was
    because he knew Rosalind well. She had a flair for the dramatic-
    her greatest regret was that she had never gone on the stage-but she was not given to foolish fancies and feverish imaginings.
    Rosalind was genuinely concerned about