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gleam in her eye. “Very well indeed.”
    Mrs. Hemp’s hand had made its way to my collar, and was adjusting it. Ordinarily, I’d have made mention of Darla and her collar-straightening duties, but in the interest of keeping Mrs. Hemp talking I let her correct whatever imperceptible flaw had crept into my shirt.
    Inspiration struck. “Let’s say I wanted to get my hands on a Werewilk right now, Mrs. Hemp,” I said. “You know the art community. How would an outsider go about that?”
    “Well, Mr. Markhat, if you’re so eager to get your hands on something, I suppose you could just go visit the woman herself,” she cooed. “You know, like you did with me. Just show up at the door.”
    Now it appeared my neck needed attention. I’d run out of stoop on which to back up. She knew it, and grinned, showing teeth that were white and straight.
    “Oh, bugger,” she said. “At least have the kindness to tell me I almost had you.”
    I frowned before I could stop myself.
    Mrs. Hemp pouted. “That was my best femme fatale,” she said, stepping back. “Or are you in love?”
    I stared and she laughed. “You are in love,” she said. “That’s all right, then. No wonder you didn’t succumb to my wiles.”
    “I was succumbing, really I was. Another minute, I’d have been in a swoon, proposing marriage, assuming your husband wouldn’t mind.”
    “Mr. Hemp did me the courtesy of dying on our wedding night,” said Mrs. Hemp. “But I’d have said no, in any case, Mr. Markhat. I know all about you and Darla Tomas, you see, and I simply couldn’t lose access to Rannit’s best dressmaker’s for any mere man.”
    I grinned and wiped sweat I hadn’t known was there off my brow. “Good show, Mrs. Hemp,” I said. “And all that without a script.”
    She bowed. “Now then,” she said. “What is it you want to know about Lady Werewilk?”
    “Anything you can tell me,” I replied. “I’m not out to hurt her. The opposite, in fact. But the art scene isn’t one I know, Mrs. Hemp. And I don’t have much time to learn it.”
    “All right,” she said. She paused to let a gaggle of pedestrians pass. “I’ll tell you what I know. But only because you came charging to my rescue, you understand?”
    I nodded.
    “Erlorne Werewilk wanted to be an artist, Mr. Markhat,” she began. “But she had an accident as a child. You’ll never see her with her gloves off, but if you do, you’ll see she’s missing three fingers on her right hand.” Mrs. Hemp shook her head sadly. “She’s had a lot of bad luck, now that I think about it,” she added. “That. Her poor addled brother. The Regent’s Council of Arts refusing her admittance, bad-mouthing her artists. And the rumors too…”
    She shut up, realizing she’d said something she hadn’t intended.
    “Oh, the rumors,” I said, with an air of dismissal. “I’m not interested in those. Nonsense, every word.”
    She nodded assent. “I never believed them,” she said. “Her fiancé had no business being on that horse in the first place.”
    “He certainly didn’t. And Lady Werewilk certainly had nothing to do with that accident.”
    “She couldn’t have,” agreed the helpful Mrs. Hemp. “Even the stable-boy agreed she was never anywhere near the saddle.”
    I nodded, hoping more was forthcoming, but the brunette called out to Mrs. Hemp from inside the house and that was all I was going to get.
    “I have to get back to rehearsal,” she said. She flashed me another big toothy smile. “But I meant what I said about the party. Bring your Miss Tomas. I’m sure she’d enjoy herself too.”
    “Thank you. Tell your strangler he needs to grit his teeth more, and keep his elbows down.”
    “I’ll do that, Mr. Markhat.” She suddenly stood on tiptoe and planted a none too chaste kiss right on my lips. “See you soon.”
    And then she was gone, gown swirling around her back as her door slammed shut.
    I found a handkerchief and mopped away any trace of