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here, but I’ve got no patience for it. This isn’t a game. This isn’t some lark. This isn’t for your drunken amusement.”
    He drew away the lamp, put it back on the wall. Felicity Whippleby fell back into shadow as he closed the door.

 
    Chapter 10
    Say, what dire penance can atone
    For such an outrage, done to thee?
    Arraign’d before thy beauty’s throne,
    What punishment wilt thou decree?

    â€” Lord Byron, “Lines Addressed to a Young Lady”
    Angus pivoted on his heel and descended the staircase. I was about to follow him, when I heard the sound of someone moving around in the quarters opposite Felicity’s. I felt I would be remiss in my investigative duties if I failed to question a potential witness, so I knocked on the door.
    A young woman about my age, wearing an informal housedress, opened the door.
    â€œOh my goodness,” she said. “You are not supposed to be here.”
    Her appearance was really quite striking; her skin was pale and clear, and her lips sensuous. And though her figure was quite trim, her bosoms were sufficiently ample. It was immediately evident that she was a subject of great interest, and not only to my investigation.
    I smiled at her, and stepped through the door and into her small, clean room. “I find the best things happen when one ventures where one is not supposed to be.”
    She retreated from the doorway, so that her bed was between us. “But men are not permitted entrance to this residence, and certainly not without a chaperone. Your presence here could cause quite a scandal.”
    â€œI came in with Angus, the constable. We were inspecting the scene of last night’s tragedy.”
    â€œAnd what has that got to do with you?” she asked.
    â€œYou know who I am?”
    â€œYes. Everybody knows who you are.”
    I was already aware of that, but was pleased to hear her say it, nonetheless. “Then you know I am one of the finest and most famous young poets in all of England.”
    â€œWhat has that got to do with anything? Why would someone like you need to examine a murder scene?”
    â€œThe poet’s skills can be constructively applied to a wide range of problems and circumstances. I believe my expertise may be vital to capturing Felicity’s killer.”
    â€œThe logic of that escapes me,” she said.
    I nodded. “That does not surprise me. The workings of a mind as subtle and intricate as my own baffle the mind of normal folk. And though it is no fault of your own, you are doubly disadvantaged in matters of comprehension, due to your sex.”
    She frowned at me. “You overstate my disadvantages, I think. Informal though my education has been, I have spent a significant amount of time and a considerable sum of money under the tutelage of faculty members here. In fact, I have probably devoted more hours to study than you, Lord Byron. You are notorious for your poor record of class attendance.”
    â€œI’m notorious for a lot of things,” I said.
    â€œYes, I’m quite aware.” It was clear my notoriety was less delightful to her than it was to me. “I cannot understand why someone admitted to Trinity would squander such an opportunity.”
    â€œA chance to listen to a bunch of blathering professional mediocrities is hardly an opportunity,” I said.
    â€œIt is when you’re denied it,” she told me. “There are thirty colleges in Cambridge, and none of them has ever admitted a woman. Despite calls for reform, the only chance I’ve got to obtain some semblance of an education in mathematics and the Arts is to take a squalid room in a Cambridge boardinghouse and hire those mediocrities for private tutoring at obscene rates.”
    I thought about this. “You know who I am,” I said, “but who are you?”
    Her eyes narrowed, their delicate lashes fluttering with her irritation. “It took you a long time to