His palm was warm and dry, though his handshake was a bit limp. 'Room number five is quite intriguing,' he said.
I expected Grenville to say something, to go along with our pretense. Instead, Grenville stared at the man with cold annoyance. He was angry, as angry as I was, but I needed to keep to my purpose.
'I am interested in a woman called Peaches,' I said.
The man jumped. I swore I saw his feet leave the ground. He pondered his answer then fixed on a simple truth. 'She is not here.'
'I know that,' I said. 'She died two days ago.'
Kensington's mouth dropped open. For a moment, pure astonishment crossed his face, then his glittering stare returned. 'Died?'
'Found in the river,' I said. 'She came here often, I am told. Was she here on Monday?'
Kensington's eyes narrowed as he looked me over again. 'Who are you, a Runner?'
'An acquaintance of Lord Barbury. He is, as you can imagine, deeply distressed.'
I watched the thoughts dance behind his eyes. A woman who came here regularly, dead. Her lover, a powerful man. Trouble for The Glass House?
'I am sad to hear of his loss,' Kensington said.
'Indeed,' I said, unable to keep the chill from my voice. 'Had she come here Monday?'
'I don't think so. I don't remember.'
'But she did used to come here?' Grenville asked. 'I believe you provided her with a private room.'
Kensington looked back and forth between us and wet his lips. 'There was no harm in it. She wanted somewhere to meet Lord Barbury, safe from her husband.'
'And they paid you well for it, I'd wager,' I said.
Kensington looked offended. 'Not at all. Amelia-Peaches-and I are old acquaintances. I knew her when she was a girl, just come to London to make her fortune. She wanted to bring Lord Barbury here, and I was willing to oblige. They enjoyed it.'
I wondered about that very much. If the house had been Peaches' choice, because she knew this Kensington, why on earth had Barbury gone along with it?
Kensington's gaze shifted again as though he'd argued with himself and at last reached a conclusion. 'Ah, I remember now, gentleman. She did come here Monday. In the afternoon.'
His memory was very convenient, I thought. 'Are you certain?'
'Yes. I had forgotten, what with one thing and another. She must have been at the laughing gas again, because she was in high spirits.'
'What time was that?'
'Around four or so, I believe.'
He was a little off; Lady Breckenridge put Peaches leaving Inglethorpe's shortly after four, and she could not have reached here for another half hour.
'When did she leave?' I asked.
'As to that, I have no idea. I did not see her go. Never saw her again after she went up to the room.'
'Which I would like to see,' I said.
Kensington looked distressed. 'No one goes above this floor, sir.'
'Except Lord Barbury, and Peaches, and you,' I answered, my voice hard. 'And now I will.'
Kensington opened his mouth to further protest, then closed it. I must have looked quite angry, and although Grenville's walking stick had no sword in it, it was made of ebony, hard and strong. Kensington could always call for the ruffians that every hell employed to keep order, but not before I could swing the stick.
Finally, he shrugged, produced a key, and led us to a door behind one of the curtains.
That door led to a dimly lit hall and a narrow flight of stairs. At the next landing, Kensington unlocked a door, lifted a taper from one of the sconces in the stairwell, and ushered us into a cold chamber.
The neat plainness of this room contrasted sharply with the tawdry finery on the floor below. The chamber held a bed hung with yellow brocade draperies, a dressing table, and two comfortable-looking chairs. The room was dark now and fireless, but I imagined it could be cheerful. Here, if Kensington spoke the truth, Peaches and Lord Barbury had carried on their liaison.
I moved to the dressing table and began opening the drawers. Kensington looked distressed, but he made no move to stop me.
As I expected, I found nothing. Kensington would have had ample time to remove anything from this room he wanted no one to see. Grenville looked over my shoulder as I pulled from the dressing table a silver hairbrush, a handful of silk ribbons, and a reticule.
I opened the reticule, but found little of interest. A viniagrette, which a lady would open and apply to her nose when she felt faint, a bit of lace, a comb, and a tiny bottle of perfume.
Grenville lifted the perfume bottle and worked open the stopper. The odor of sweet musk bathed my nostrils. 'Expensive,' he pronounced, then returned the stopper to the bottle. 'A gift from Barbury?'
'Probably.' I returned everything to the reticule.
We found nothing more in the drawers. Kensington stood inside the doorway, watching us, looking more curious than alarmed.
'Why did she come here Monday?' I asked him as Grenville closed the dressing table.
Kensington shrugged. 'Why shouldn't she? She was probably meeting her lordship.'
'She'd made an appointment to meet him much later that night,' I said. 'Yet you say she was here after four in the afternoon. Why should she have come?'
Kensington hesitated, and I watched him choose his words carefully. 'Gentlemen, as I told you, I'd known Amelia Chapman a very long time. She was a young woman who found life tedious, and it was no joy for her being married to a plodding gent like Chapman. She did not like to go home, and I sympathized. She'd retreat here when her husband grew too dull for her, and I was happy to let her. I believe she had told her husband some rigmarole about visiting a friend in the country, in any case, so she would not be expected home. She had done such a thing before.'
'Did she meet anyone else here that afternoon?' I asked. 'Someone not Lord Barbury?'
'Now, as to that, I do not know. I told you, I saw her, but I did not see her after she came up to her room, and she was quite alone then. And I have no idea when she departed. You may, of course, ask the footman who opens the door.'
I certainly would ask him.
'Now, gentlemen.' Kensington rubbed his hands. 'I have been very good natured, letting you rummage through my rooms and ask about my friends. But this is a house of business.'
Grenville gave him a look of undisguised disgust. He opened his mouth to denounce him, to tell him we would not stay another moment, but I forestalled him with a look. Another woman of the house might have seen Peaches that day, might know who she had met. Peaches had died here, or very soon after leaving here, and I wanted to speak to anyone who had seen her.
'Please,' I said to Kensington. 'Choose a room for us.'
Kensington smiled. It was not a nice smile. 'I have just the thing, Captain. Allow me to prepare.' He gave me a little bow and glided away, leaving the door open behind him.
Once we heard him close the door at the bottom of the stairs Grenville turned to me. 'Why on earth did you tell him that? I'd have thought you'd want nothing more to do with this place.'
I explained, but he looked skeptical. 'Such a lady may know nothing or be paid to know nothing.'
'Perhaps, but it is worth a try. Now, while we have the chance, shall we see what else this room can tell us?'
'Kensington would not have left us alone if it could,' Grenville pointed out, but he turned his hand to the task.
We went over the room again, looking under the bed covers, through the dressing table, behind curtains, under the bed. I examined the tools at the fireplace, studied the heavy brass grating. I finished my search, finding nothing. The room was neat, well-dusted, impersonal.
Grenville found nothing either, but I knew that Peaches could very likely have been killed in this room.
We found no evidence that she had been, of course. Her killer would have had time to tidy up behind
