A plump maid answered my knock on Mrs. Roucliffe’s door. The servant was all smiles as she led me through the hall to a smallish sitting room overdone in shades of peach and coral. Everything from the paint on the walls, the furniture, the carpet and the bunches of roses in vases was done in varying shades of the same pinkish-orangey colour. I bit back a chuckle at Mrs. Roucliffe’s idea of the setting for seduction. Then I chastised myself. Peach would be a flattering colour to the dark-haired Mrs. Roucliffe. Perhaps she was shrewd enough to know what colour surroundings would favour her looks. A long peach-colored chaise dominated the area. Covered in slippery satin, it was undoubtedly intended for amorous pursuits. I could just imagine Foggie, the worse for drink, attempting to embrace his mistress and sliding off, falling flat on the floor. The sounds of feminine voices caused me to look toward the hallway I had just come through. Mrs. Roucliffe stood with another woman. Perceiving my presence, she was about to motion her friend out the door.
