where it does not belong.'
I remained by the door, Grenville's stout walking stick in my hand. 'Hasn't Sir Montague arrested you, yet?'
'I decided not to remain at home and give him the opportunity. When one of my informers heard he'd gone to see Lady Jane this afternoon, I made myself scarce. I am not naive enough to believe that the bitch would not betray me. So I have set plans in motion. But before I disappear for good, I wanted to visit you and let you know what I think of you and your deeds.'
'I already know what you think of them. And I know what I think of yours.'
'I did not kill Peaches and Lord Barbury, Captain, much as you wish I had.'
'I have concluded that,' I said. 'That does not mean you are guilty of nothing. You kept a young girl in that house for your filthy customers. I am willing to hazard that there have been others. I am only happy that Peaches found a way to make you squirm.'
Kensington shook his head. 'Amelia was never a sweet innocent, Captain. Always hard as nails, she was.'
'You made her so,' I said, the walking stick warm under my palm. 'I know that Peaches was not angelic; her life must have been harsh-I imagine she spent many years being pawed at by lecherous men wanting a pretty young actress. But I still cannot help wishing Peaches alive, and you dead.'
He smile became sickly. 'You will not kill me, Captain. You are a man of honor.'
'What I will likely do is haul you around the corner to Bow Street and give you over to Pomeroy. My former sergeant is not terribly scrupulous about how he obtains a confession.'
'No, you will not, Captain,' Kensington said, sounding too certain for my taste. 'I am leaving England, and you will keep your bullying Runner and magistrate friends from following me.'
'Will I?' I slapped the walking stick to my hand. Ebony was a strong wood, good and solid.
Kensington's small, smug smile returned. 'I realize that you present a danger to me, Captain Lacey. I also very much want my revenge. And I have it. I will leave unmolested for the Continent, or a lady you care for very much will not return home this night.'
I went still, my blood turning to ice. Then I was across the room, my hands at his throat.
Kensington yelped. 'Strangle me and you'll not know what becomes of her!'
I barely heard him through my berserker fury. We struggled in the corner, he trying to get away from me, me doing my best to throttle him. I was stronger, but he used his weight to counter me. We grappled, he punched me with heavy fists.
I had never mentioned Louisa Brandon in his presence, but it would not have been difficult for him to discern my friendship with her. It was common knowledge that I and the Brandons were close, and Kensington or his lackeys could have seen me speaking to her at the theatre last night, riding with her in the park today.
I would have killed him I think, and what would have happened to her I scarce dare imagine. As it was, Kensington kicked me hard in the left knee, a lucky shot but effective.
I loosed him in a flare of pain. Kensington ducked from my hold and raced for the door.
I shot after him. I could run on my leg when I was afraid or enraged, and I was both. Despite his kick, I was only five steps behind him on the stairs and closer still while he fumbled with the door.
Outside, the stones were slick, but plenty of people milled about, despite the dark and cold. Kensington wove through the crowd, and I pounded behind. 'Stop him!' I shouted.
The good citizens of Grimpen Lane and Russel Street hastened to oblige. Unfortunately, too many of them did, and they got in my way while trying to seize the elusive Kensington.
My leg gave out with an abruptness that paralyzed me. One moment I was running, the next, and I was on the pavement. I caught my knee, moaning and cursing. More concerned citizens stood over me, offering advice and sympathy.
'Did anyone catch him?' I ground out.
Heads were shaken. No one had. I sank back, my head pounding, my knee throbbing in pain.
I had only one comfort. I did not need to catch Kensington to find Louisa.
I dug in my pocket for a penny and thrust it at one of the street boys. 'Get me a hackney.'
The boy caught the coin and bounced away. I spent the intervening time crawling to my feet and leaning against the wall, waiting for the arrival of the hackney.
I knew where Kensington had put Louisa-the only place he could have. The Glass House might effectively be closed, but Kensington would still have a key.
When the hackney arrived, the boy helped me climb into it. I directed the driver to St. Charles Row, near Whitechapel, and before the door closed, I gave the lad another coin and bade him run to Bow Street and tell Pomeroy where I'd gone.
When I reached St. Charles Row, all was quiet. The moon had moved behind a bank of rising clouds, rendering the street nearly black. A candle or two shone in windows, but the citizens of this neighborhood would not have the money to waste on too many lights. Many of the hard-working ones had gone to bed long ago.
The Glass House was silent, the scarred door locked, possibly bolted. The windows too were barred, and high from the street.
I recalled how the girl, Jean, had described Peaches leaving the house through the kitchen. No scullery steps descended from the street to a door below, so the kitchen must lead out to the spaces behind the houses.
In Mayfair, back gardens led to mews, where horses and carriages were kept for the masters of the grand townhouses. In this area, where the inhabitants likely could not afford their own horses, the passages would be only wide enough for the nightsoil removers who crept in and out in their noisome task.
I left St. Charles Row for Aldgate, searching for the narrow passage that backed onto The Glass House and its neighbors. I stumbled upon it almost by accident; a darker space between dark walls.
The passage when I entered it was so black that I could find my way only by running my hand along the wall and counting the gates. My boots sloshed through refuse the likes of which I did not want to contemplate.
The gate of number 12 opened easily. In the dark, I nearly fell down the short flight of stairs that led to the kitchen door, catching myself with Grenville's walking stick at the last moment.
The door was locked, but the lock proved to be flimsy. I was angry enough that bringing the walking stick down on the latch several times made it give way. If the neighbors heard me and called the watch, so much the better.
The kitchen was cold and black. I tapped my way across it like a blind man. My leg still hurt like fire, but I was beyond caring. As soon as I got Louisa safe, I would let it hurt, but not until then.
After a long time, too long for my patience, I reached the far wall of the kitchen and groped along it until I found a door. Hoping it led into the house and not a cupboard or scullery, I pushed through.
My stick struck a stair. I climbed. My leg hurt, and I had to pull myself up, holding onto the wall.
I emerged at last into the entrance hall. Faint light shone through the fanlight above the door, glistening on candlesticks on a half-moon table, candlesticks useless to me because I had no way to light the candles.
I found the main stairs and groped my way to the first floor above the ground floor. The house was silent, and it had the feel and smell of desertion.
I wondered where Kensington had put her. Would he have found it amusing to lock her into one of the windowed rooms? In that case, I'd only have to break the window to get her out.
Or was she lying unconscious behind the glass, where the shards could cut her? I did not like that thought, but my greatest worry was simply getting her out.
I went into the main room, where highborn gentlemen had played cards and dice and sipped expensive port. I could just make out the outlines of the tables and chairs in the darkness. The gleam of glass led me to a window, but I could see nothing inside.
I cupped my hands and shouted. 'Louisa!'
The sound reverberated from the glass window, the dark room, the empty tables and chairs.
I left the main room and made my way, slowly in the near pitch black, to the stairs that led to the attics. I climbed these painfully and emerged once more in the tiny hall where I'd found the room in which Peaches had kept her most precious things.
'Louisa!' I called.
