The Glass House

I regarded her quietly. "What do you fear he will do if you tell him the truth?"

She shrugged, but her gaze was uneasy. "Who knows? Even you do not know what he can do, do you? As much as he is your friend, you do not really know him."

I had to concede this truth. Grenville was a powerful man, and if he chose to patronize me, or Marianne, he did so for his own reasons.

"I will speak to him," I said.

"Tell him he has no right to keep me here, locked away. That I-"

I held up my hand. "I said I would speak to him. You might try being kinder to him, Marianne. I know from experience that you are a trial to live with."

She made a face at me, but she relaxed somewhat. "I do not live with him; he barely comes to see me. He has never even asked for what a gent usually asks for. I don't understand why not."

I had no wish to involve myself in that particular problem. "What you mean is, you cannot tease him like you do the others. You cannot control him."

She lifted her chin. "Well, I will not allow him to control me."

"That, you will have to fight out between yourselves," I said. "I will ask him to consider giving you a bit more freedom. I agree, you cannot give up your entire life for a few frou-frous."

She smiled, her beauty shining through. "You are a true gentleman, Lacey. I have always said so."

"Yes, when you are not calling me other names. But enough, I did not come here to argue with you about Grenville. I came to ask you a question."

"What sort of question?"

"I want to know whether you ever knew an actress called Peaches."

Marianne laughed suddenly, then spun around and plopped ungracefully on the chaise longue. "Even I have heard of you running about smashing windows at The Glass House. Be careful somebody does not bring suit against you, Lacey."

I rested my hands on the top of Grenville's walking stick. "They would get little from me in any case."

She quirked a brow. "So you want to know all about poor dead Peaches, do you? I never liked her, but it's sad that she came to such an end."

"You did know her then."

"Oh, yes, a long time ago, when she was fresh from the country. She was certain she'd take the public by storm." She grinned. "So many girls are like that, you know, certain they'll become the next Sarah Siddons. Peaches was no different. She'd come from a family of strolling players. Her father and mother had died of fever a few years before, and she decided London was the place to make her fortune. Her idea-she told me this, the silly chit-was that she'd appear on the stage in London, be raved over, and attract the attention of a man of great fortune who would marry her." Marianne shook her head. "The truth was, Peaches was a second-rate actress and the people of London didn't pay her much attention. Once the novelty of her wore off, she was more or less ignored."

I could imagine a very young Peaches watching, frustrated, as the premier roles and the accolades went to others, while she was lost in the crowd. I remembered the newspaper articles she'd saved. They had mentioned her in passing if at all-usually, her name was printed only as part of the supporting cast.

"But she met Lord Barbury," I said.

"Yes, Barbury, the poor fool. She quite threw herself at him. She did have a sweet smile and a pretty face, but most gentlemen simply wanted a night with her. She'd refuse them-saving herself for something better, she'd say. The result was that the gentlemen began to ignore her, as well."

"Except Lord Barbury."

Marianne rolled her eyes. "Barbury was besotted. He was the one who gave her the name Peaches. She was certain he would marry her, but Peaches was always a bit blind. Barbury was in love with her, yes, but he had no intention of taking a nobody actress to wife. He's the kind who, if he marries at all, will find the perfect society lady who knows how to give hunt balls and run fetes and put blue-blooded heirs in the nursery. Rather full of himself is Lord Barbury. Peaches was too. Imagine, she had her own man of business."

"Did she? What for?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Like as not, she made it up, or the man handled simply her parents' will, or something."

"Did she mention his name?"

Marianne shook her head. "If she did, I do not remember. She probably invented him, as I say. She was prone to inventing things about herself, to make her seem better than she was. Poor thing, she did not have much."

"And so she decided to marry Chapman."

Marianne wrapped a strand of her long hair around her finger. "She began working for another acting company just before she met Chapman, and after that I did not see much of her. But rumor had it that Peaches had met Chapman by chance while walking in Hyde Park. Two months later, they'd married. She probably knew by then she would never be anything more to Lord Barbury than his mistress. Chapman at least made a living, even if he wasn't lofty."

"Yet, she went back to Lord Barbury after she married."

Marianne snorted. "Of course she did. Once she had Chapman for security, why not run back to a rich, handsome lord was madly in love with her?"

"I've been wondering why she married Chapman at all," I said. "Lord Barbury gave her money and gifts and loved her desperately. She seemed equally besotted with him. Surely she was happy, even without marriage."

Marianne gave me a dark look. "You are a man, Lacey. You cannot even begin to understand. A gentleman who is not your husband can be wild about you one day, weary of you the next. And, once he is weary.." She opened her hand, as though dropping something to the carpet. "If the lady has saved no money, if he takes back everything he has given her, she is destitute, her character ruined. Marriage is much safer by far for a woman, even if it is not the happiest state."

"I have not noticed you pursuing it," I said.

Marianne gave me a smile. "I prefer scraping a living for myself to being a man's slave, no matter that the law says he has to take care of me. I've seen far too many wives beaten regularly by their husbands to want that."

I had too, unfortunately. "Peaches was willing to risk it."

"Peaches was always starry-eyed, and not very intelligent. She thought marriage would fulfill her dreams, even if she had to settle for much less than she'd hoped."

And marriage had not saved her from being brutally murdered. Neither Chapman nor Lord Barbury had been able to prevent that.

"What about Mr. Kensington?" I asked. "Did you know him?"

Marianne wrinkled her nose. "Nasty little chap. I still see him at the theatre now and again. How and where Peaches met him, I do not know. He hung on Peaches, acted as though he'd cling to her skirts and be taken to riches with her. She despised him, but he looked after her, and he introduced her to Lord Barbury. In return, she paid him."

I wondered what other hold Kensington had had over her. Not every odious connection is easy to break, especially if one person has an emotional tether to the other.

I also wondered about the man of business Marianne had mentioned. I'd found no letters to or from such a person in Peaches' rooms. The man of business might be a thing of the past, but he was worth pointing out to Sir Montague or Thompson.

Marianne smiled again. "You are always stirring up trouble, Lacey. It is a bad habit of yours, that."

"I agree," I said. "I would like nothing more than a holiday from it."

"You would not know what to do with yourself if you did. But I will give you this advice for nothing. I hear you stayed a night in the house of Lady Breckenridge. Have a care of her, Lacey. She can be a viper."

My face grew warm. "You are well informed for a lady being kept prisoner."

She shot me a pitying look. "I hear things, Lacey. I also hear that she can be rather ruthless."