A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. She laughed a little bitterly. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. ’ She giggled suddenly. . "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him.
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