Inside her bedroom, Blair sat in front of a mirror wearing only a shift, studiously applying heavy makeup.

Her face looked completely different, unrecognizable from before. She remained attractive but looked darker, with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow accentuating her upper face.

She changed the shape of her eyebrows, adding thickness and increasing their darkness as well. Her lips were painted a different shade of red than before, almost ruby deep.

Satisfied with the look, she walked over to a very large closet. It was, in fact, a small room devoted to shoes and dresses. She pressed a hidden switch and the back wall neatly pivoted. The many shoes stacked in cubbyholes swiveled around, replaced with a selection of a dozen wigs on terracotta heads and a rack of alluring dresses that Nancy would not approve of, had she known they were there.

Blair selected a dark wig, fuller and longer than her actual hair, which she had pinned high on her head in a bun.

Placing the wig on and fastening it with more pins, she now looked completely different, her spy skill [Disguise] notching up another point in the process.

Choosing a rather form-fitting dress in deep maroon, she tripped the switch again and the wall swiveled to display shoes. She selected a dark pair that matched her outfit, and walked out of the closet to stand in front of a large full-length mirror.

She grabbed a small purse and placed her interspatial wallet inside, wondering how in the world she ever got along without it. Then she carefully hid a thin razor-sharp dagger up her left sleeve, and a small Derringer pistol up her right sleeve.

At last she felt prepared, and she walked over to a tall window opening out to the front lawn.

Blair would never leave her room dressed like this and go out the front door. For one thing, Nancy’s bedroom was close to the front, and her maid was a notoriously light sleeper, something Blair learned at an early age.

She had awakened Nancy several times as a toddler, while wandering around her father’s mansion at night. The slightest sound outside her door seemed to immediately rouse the older woman.

Twice as a teen Blair had tried sneaking out, only to be duly apprehended. These days, she never bothered to open her door to the hall. She just went straight out the window.

Carefully closing it behind her, Blair crossed the grassy lawn to the wicket gate and out to the sidewalk.

The iron hinges, unbeknownst to Nancy, Blair kept oiled so they never squeaked. Quietly she slipped out to the street, shutting and locking the gate behind her.

Glancing up and down the sidewalk, she watched the gas lamps flicker in a slight breeze, casting fitful shadows.

Blair remained unconcerned about the possibility of trouble at this hour. Indeed, anyone attempting to bother her would end up far worse than she would. But this was a wealthy neighborhood, and anyone would feel safe walking about even at this hour.

A few blocks later she walked out of the upper class parts of town and into a merchant’s quarter. Here, she found cabs waiting idly under gas lamps near a theater.

Climbing into the first one, she gave the driver an address. He tipped his hat, tapped the flank of his horse, and they were off.

The cabbie, to his credit, did not question the address, nor ask why she wanted to go there. And like every good cabbie, he knew Ethinium well. Certainly he knew it well enough to know their destination.

He pulled up beside a massive home near Westminster. It took up the larger part of a block. The cabbie stopped at the “back” street, where a nondescript door stood at the top of a short run of stone steps.

She exited and gave him some coins. He tipped his hat then let the horse lead him away.

Blair walked up the steps and pulled a cord, clanging the bells inside.

Moments later she heard the scrape of a peephole followed by a grunt, then bolts sliding back.

A middle-aged woman in fine evening dress and pince-nez glasses perched on her nose looked her up and down.

“Piper! So, you finally came back. I knew you would, eventually. If I let you in tonight, you can’t be too picky. If a man chooses you, you will go with him. No funny business.”

“Of course, Madame Harper.”

The older woman harrumphed, unconvinced by Blair’s tone. But she opened the door wider and let the younger woman come inside.

“Well, come along, Let’s get to it. You recall the route to the rogue’s galley, I’m sure. Use Room 16 tonight, Ella is out, she came down with consumption not long ago. Or the clap, I’m not sure which.”

Blair followed Madame Harper through the large house toward the front, where a grand drawing room held all manner of sofas and wingback chairs, warm lighting with walnut and mahogany accents everywhere.

The atmosphere here reeked of pheromones, with many young and attractive women flirting with older, well-to-do men.

Madame Harper paused to offer more guidance to Blair but quickly became distracted when two young prostitutes accosted her, each accusing the other of stealing money.

“Belinda! Sally! We do not bring up conversations of this sort in the drawing room! Follow me, and we will find a more suitable location to discuss the matter.”

By then Blair had already started on her round of the room, looking over each of the men present. She recognized most, as they were at or above her social clique. Madame Harper ran one of the few bordellos catering to Ethinium’s upper crust.

But no one could see through her disguise. Even those men well acquainted with Lady Brooke would never have guessed she walked in their presence tonight.

Three-quarters of the way around the room, she found a suitable mark. A rather aged gentleman sat on a leather chair cackling in delight at the attention of a young strumpet sitting perkily on his knee.

She walked over and tapped on the girl’s shoulder.

“Madame Harper wishes to speak to you about some items that Belinda and Sally say went missing recently.”

The girl’s face turned red.

“I had nothing to do with that!”

“Nonetheless, they are discussing it in the room off that hallway over there, and Madame Harper asked to see you about it.”

Rather flustered, the young girl jumped off the man’s lap and hurried away.

Turning to the older man, Blair said, “Why, my goodness! It’s Lord Dudley! I had no idea you were a visitor to our fine establishment, sir.”

It was the old man’s turn to blush.

“Oh, well, I . . .”

“Say no more, Lord Dudley. I know the Secret Service Bureau would not want you to be seen out here in the main drawing room. There are Prussian agents here, you know.”

“No! I did not know that . . .”

“Let us decamp to a more private area. Quickly before anyone sees you.”

Taking him by the hand, she led him upstairs to a long hallway with rooms on either side, grabbing a bottle of sherry along the way and two glasses.

An hour later she left him passed out on the bed, his clothes still on, with an empty glass of spiked sherry on the coffee table.

Blair had pumped him for information, pulling everything he knew about the current situation with Darhaven and the vaults, then drugged the poor old man asleep.

She closed the door quietly and started back down the hall, intent on finding an exit to the bordello.

Madame Harper came around the corner at that very moment, blocking her way.

“There you are. You’ve been off the floor too long. Turnover, Piper, turnover! Now come with me, someone saw you earlier and asked for you.”

“Oh, Madame Harper. I have someone calling himself Dudley in Room 16 . . .”

“Lord Dudley? Good, it’s his first visit with us tonight. I hope you showed him a good time.”

“I’m afraid something happened. He got very excited before we started, and . . . well, I hope he’s not dead, Madame Harper, but I can’t wake him up.”

The old woman’s eyes grew big and she shoved Blair out of the way, hurrying down the hall to Room 16.

Blair headed in the opposite direction. She went down the stairs and quickly made her way out the back door with no further interruptions. Eventually she found another cab and took it to within three blocks of her home, then walking the rest of the way.

At long last she slid the window open to her room and sneaked back inside, no one the wiser about her absence.

She pulled off the wig and the dress, placing them back in their hiding place. Then she headed for the tub to soak her second skin of deception off in lukewarm bathwater.