Page 108 of Affair

Baxter adjusted his spectacles. “I hardly think Miss Post’s case is typical.”

“Perhaps not.” Charlotte grew thoughtful. “Nevertheless, I wonder if it would be worth my while to offer my services to ladies who are contemplating a romantic liaison as well as to those who are considering marriage.”

She’s serious, Baxter thought. He suddenly became aware of the fact that his jaw was locked in place. He swallowed to release some of the tension. “I doubt that there would be much call for that sort of thing.”

“You may be correct. It is passion that usually governs one’s decision to become involved in an affair, and when one is consumed by such a strong emotion, one is not terribly interested in facts.”

“Indeed.”

“And everyone knows that passion is a fleeting, shortlived sensation. When it has run its course, one can simply end the affair. Not at all like marriage, which requires more discretion and sound logic because one is, after all, stuck with one’s husband for life.”

Stuck. He sighed inwardly. “Indeed.”

“Yes, I do believe you have the right of it, Baxter. There would likely be few clients who would employ me to investigate a potential lover.”

“You appear to have sufficient demand for your services as it is.”

“Yes, well, enough of business. I saw the look on your face when Miss Post spoke of Malcolm Janner. You know him, do you not? Who is he, Baxter? And how on earth did you make his acquaintance?”

He forced himself back to the matter at hand. “If my suspicions are correct, his real name is Morgan Judd.”

“Judd?”

“I am sorry to say it, but we were friends at Oxford.”

“Friends?” Her voice sharpened in disbelief. “Did you share the same bond with this Morgan Judd that you did with Anthony Tiles?”

“Yes. Morgan was also a bastard. He was the offspring of the heir to an earldom and the daughter of country gentry. His mother died in childbirth. His father ignored his existence but his mother’s family saw to it that he was educated as a gentleman. I do not think that Morgan ever forgave either of his parents.”

“He blamed them for depriving him of his proper station in life?”

“Yes.”

“Was it only the bond of your mutual lack of legitimacy that connected you to Morgan Judd?”

“At first, yes.” Baxter watched a carriage pass in the street. “But Morgan and I shared something else as well. Something that was even more binding. An interest in chemistry.”

“I believe I begin to understand.”

“At Oxford, they called us the Two Alchemists. We spent every waking moment in the study of chemistry. We set up a laboratory in our lodgings and used our clothing allowances to purchase glassware and equipment. When the others met to drink coffee and read poetry in the evenings, Morgan and I conducted experiments. We lived and breathed science.”

“What happened?” Charlotte asked.

“We drifted apart after Oxford. We corresponded for a time. Exchanged news of the results of our chemical work. But after a while we simply lost contact. Morgan lived in London for a while but we rarely encountered each other.”

“There is more to that part of the story than you have told me,” Charlotte said gently.

“You are perceptive. The truth is that, in addition to chemistry, Morgan had … other interests, which I did not share. Those interests became increasingly important to him after Oxford. He grew obsessive where they were concerned.”

“What sort of interests?”

“He was drawn to the worst hells and the most unpleasant brothels. As time went on, his tastes in such things grew more jaded and debauched. There was something in him that fed on the darker side of life.”

“No wonder your friendship failed.”

“He also became keenly interested in the metaphysical and the occult sciences. At first those subjects were a game to him. He toyed with them in the manner of the Romantic poets. But by the time he left Oxford, it was all much more than an amusing diversion. He had begun to talk of fulfilling his true destiny.”

“Destiny.” Charlotte repeated the word in a soft, troubled voice. “I vow, the word haunts me.”

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