The Glass House

His eyes narrowed. "Can't be sure, you know. I think it was raining that night, pretty fierce. I remember giving up on the cheroot before long-too damp to enjoy properly. I went inside fairly quick, to get warm. I can't remember seeing anyone out of place, no." He grinned. "Am I being helpful? If you arrest someone, would you put it in the papers that I assisted you?"

"Your name will be prominent, Mr. Gower, if you wish it," I said.

"Excellent. Well, I'm chuffed to have met you, Mr. Grenville."

Grenville said something polite, and we took our leave.

"I suppose I was that young and cocky once," Grenville said as we strolled up Middle Temple Lane and back to Fleet Street. "But I must say that the suit he wears is first rate."

I came out of deep thought about the Temple Gardens on a dark, rainy night. "How did you notice his suit? His gown covered it."

"I noted his collar and his sleeves. His coat was made by a fine tailor in Bond Street. No doubt provided by a proud and ambitious papa."

I could only muse that Grenville was fixed on dress. I had never noticed Gower's coat.

As we trudged slowly back to Covent Garden, we discussed what we'd learned from the boat ride. I told Grenville I'd inform Thompson of our discoveries; he, of the Thames River patrol could easily order his watermen to run up and down the river questioning boatmen and fishermen.

"It would be pleasing if we could find someone who truly saw something," Grenville said crossly. "Mr. Gower sees nothing through the rain. Young Jean hears Kensington and Peaches argue, but does not see anyone with Peaches when she leaves The Glass House. None of the hackney drivers Thompson questioned remember seeing Peaches at all. Lady Breckenridge does not observe Peaches speak to anyone but Inglethorpe last Monday at Inglethorpe's gathering. And Inglethorpe, of course, cannot tell us anything, because Chapman skewered him. It's dashed annoying."

"Perhaps," I said absently, musing again.

"You are having ideas, Lacey. Will you share them?"

"Not ideas. Threads of ideas. Which might lead nowhere."

"Well, I am completely baffled," Grenville said. "Tell me, Lacey, what have you decided about Berkshire? I've had another letter from Rutledge-he's the headmaster I told you of. He was most interested in you. An Army officer of good family and quiet habits is just what he'd like. What shall I tell him?"

"I have been thinking that a sojourn in Berkshire would be most pleasant, to tell the truth," I said.

"Excellent. I will warn you, however, that Bartholomew wishes to accompany you. And I will visit often, of course, to make certain you are not getting up to anything exciting without me. Can you bear it?"

I gave him a faint smile and a nod. "I would enjoy the company."

"I will write to Rutledge tonight." Grenville pulled the collar of his greatcoat higher. "Let us move along. If anyone sees me strolling the Strand, on foot, my reputation will be at an end."

"Nonsense," I said, feeling slightly better now that I'd made a decision. "It will become the thing to do."

Grenville burst out laughing, something he did rarely. "True. That would be a most excellent joke."

Chuckling, he ambled on, and we at last turned north to Covent Garden and Grimpen Lane.

Grenville invited me to dine with him again, but I told him I had an engagement for the evening. He left me as his coach arrived at Grimpen Lane, and Bartholomew went out to shop for our supper.

I had worried at first that keeping Bartholomew would be costly, especially since Bartholomew enjoyed stoking my fires high. But Bartholomew had proved this false. He knew where to get the best goods the cheapest, he said, having connections all over Covent Garden and even into the City. He did keep me comfortable at little expense. Grenville had rather relieved me when he indicated that Bartholomew wanted to accompany me to Berkshire. I had grown to appreciate him.

Not many minutes after both Grenville and Bartholomew had departed, someone tapped on my door. I opened it, expecting Mrs. Beltan with coffee, but to my surprise, I found Mr. Kensington on my doorstep.

I did not invite him in. Though he held his hat in both hands, and I saw no sign of a weapon, I certainly did not trust him. His dark hair was thinning on top, which I could well see because I stood at least a foot taller than he.

"What the devil do you want?" I asked.

He gave me his oily smile. "To speak with you, Captain. On a matter we will both find important."

"What matter?"

He looked past me into my rooms. "Shall we speak privately?"

"We are private enough."

Kensington took another step forward and lowered his voice. "I've come to learn that you are acquainted with Mr. Denis, Captain."

"Somewhat," I said in chill tones.

"I have a connection to him as well." He lowered his voice further still. "I worked for him once upon a time."

I was surprised, but only because Kensington was a bit too base for the Spartan Denis. "He has never mentioned this," I said.

"Nor would he. We did not exactly see eye to eye, and I left his service. But times are changing, and we must decide who our allies are."

I had not yet made up my mind whether to believe him. "What of it?"

"My dear, sir, we can be of help to one another. I only ask that you put in a good word for me with Denis. Tell him I have seen the error of my ways."

I gave him a sharp look. "First, I have no reason to believe you. Second, I have no reason to help you."

Kensington's eyes took on a light of desperation. "But I have helped you at every turn. I let you search Peaches' rooms, I have answered your questions about her, I can help your magistrate friend make short work of Lady Jane."

I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. Cold air seeped up the stairwell, but I was not ready to retreat into the warm rooms behind me.

"Helped me?" I asked. "You have lied or evaded me at every turn. You did not mention that Peaches owned The Glass House. You only allowed me to search the real room she kept when I threatened you. You have not yet told me why you and she quarreled on her final day."

"Help me return to James Denis' good graces, and I will tell you all."

I caught him by his coat lapels and jerked him off his feet. "You will tell me now. Beginning with why you are so anxious to betray Lady Jane, who has no doubt helped you make a profit from The Glass House."

"How can you ask? Lady Jane is a ruthless and wicked woman, and I rue the day I met her."

"I don't doubt that. Let me put to you why I think you are willing to sell her out. Now that Peaches is dead, The Glass House will revert to another owner, and your days are numbered. No doubt she is furious. If you killed Peaches, she will be more furious still."

Kensington's small eyes bulged. "I did not kill Peaches. I swear it."

"You had better be able to prove that. What did you and Peaches quarrel about?"

"I don't remember."

I shook him once. "I believe you do."

He wet his lips. "Lady Jane is dangerous. She may be a woman, but she has men at her beck and call who will do anything for her. Nasty types who would kill you as soon as turn a hair. I want to get away from her. You would too, if you understood. If I go back to Denis, Lady Jane can't touch me."

That, I at least believed. I shook him again. "You have not answered my question."

"Peaches found out that I wanted to leave The Glass House and return to Denis. She threatened to tell Lady Jane. When I remonstrated with her, she laughed at me."

"And you killed her to prevent it?"

"No! I never did. I swear it, Captain. I'll take a Bible oath on it. I did not kill Peaches. She was alive and well when she left me."

"To go where?"

"I do not know! She said she had an appointment."