I left Thompson, who told me he would send word when he fetched Chapman, and made my way back to Covent Garden.

Grenville and I met at the Rearing Pony to confer. I'd thought Grenville would prefer a more elegant meeting place, even our usual coffeehouse in Pall Mall, but he professed himself happy to settle in here. He explained, with an air of irritation, that here at least he would not be required by every passerby to render his opinion on a cravat, the cut of a coat, or the latest on-dit, as he had done all morning while viewing the porcelain.

I sensed that Grenville was growing weary of his role as most popular man in London. He betrayed a restlessness that had begun after our adventures last summer, and I wondered when he'd announce that he was returning to his world travels.

When he finally went, I would miss him. Despite our differences in wealth and opinions, we had become friends. Perhaps we were friends because of our differences; Grenville knew I would never toady to him, and he accepted me as I was-one of the few people in my life ever to do so.

As I repeated the conversation I'd had with Thompson, the barmaid, Anne Tolliver, slid another tankard in front of me and gave me a warm smile. I returned the smile with a nod. "It would be helpful if we could piece together what Mrs. Chapman did yesterday," I said as Mrs. Tolliver walked away. "Where she went, who she met."

I stopped. Grenville was staring at me, a half-amused, half-exasperated look on his face. "How do you do it, Lacey?"

"How do I do what?"

"Good Lord, you do not even know."

I studied Anne Tolliver’s retreating back, her hips swaying as she walked. "If you refer to Mrs. Tolliver, she has a smile and a wink for every gentleman in the room."

Grenville studied me, his eyes sharp, then he laughed. "Not every gentleman. But never mind. We were speaking of Mrs. Chapman. We can quiz her servants, of course. Discover what she intended to do that day, whether she meant to meet friends, or Barbury, or perhaps even another lover."