Striding inside, Simon took in the large room in one quick glance.
Four long tables dominated the room, swarmed by colorful gentlemen in coats and endless china plates, all steaming with the scent of venison and turtle. Laughter rumbled through the men. Their humming conversations mingled with the constantclink-clinkof silverware against glass.
“Help you, guv’nor?” A middle-aged proprietor approached, balancing a platter of more meat. “A raucous bunch these be, but a respectable lot too.”
“I’m looking for a Miss Neale.”
“Oh.” His voice flattened. “Go out the way you came. You’ll be finding the kitchen entrance on the alley side of the building.”
Simon nodded his thanks and made his way into a dank-smelling alley. He rapped on a door already cracked.
“Wot you want?” A pimple-faced boy, no older than thirteen, leaned out the door.
“I’m here to see Miss Neale.”
“She’s working.”
“This will only take a moment.”
“A moment wot she don’t got.”
Simon stopped the door from shutting with his hand. “If I must speak with your employer again, I will.”
The threat seemed to dissolve the boy’s arrogance. He barked the name Helen over his shoulder, then motioned Simon inside.
The kitchen was spacious, though the walls were blotched with stains and grime squished under Simon’s boots. In a corner of the room, a deathly thin young woman hovered over a table, hacking a knife through a bloody slab of meat.
“Miss Neale?”
She did not glance up. Her dirty blouse slinked off one shoulder, and the closer he approached, the more he noticed tiny bugs leaping from her sweaty hair.
“I would like to speak with you a moment.”
Whack.
“Concerning Friedrich.”
Whack.
“I was with him when he died.”
For the first time, her hand stilled and she glanced up. Dark blue circles hung beneath her eyes, and the wariness of her expression struck him with pity. Did she fear him?
“I do not wish to cause you any harm.” He gentled his voice. “I only wish to ask you some questions.”
“He’s dead.” She shrugged. “What do questions matter now?”
“He was imprisoned in Newgate and sentenced to hang, but he never made it to the gallows.”
“His mother saw to that.”
“Not yours?”
“No.” She pulled her sleeve back over her shoulder. “I was Friedrich’s aunt, though we were the same age. When my parents died, I went to live with Lady Neale and my nephew. That was before he…before he…”
“Killed?”
Gnawing her lip between her teeth, she sliced off another hunk of meat. “She indulged anything he ever wanted. She blinded herself to his waywardness and tried to make everyone else blinded too.” The woman blinked fast. “When Friedrich killed, I was the one to tell the constable.”
