Grateful for something to distract her from her worry over what Chase had learned, the next morning she dressed in her serviceable gray, tied on her bonnet, slid her reticule over her arm, and set off on foot. Litchfield Street was not very far from her home, although as she walked east the neighborhood quickly changed for the worse, reflecting that she neared the Seven Dials.

Mrs. Jeffers’s cousin must have been down on his luck if he lived here. He would be glad to learn that his cousin sought him out and wanted them to make amends. There were times when conducting inquiries could result in good things for people, and it raised her spirits that this would probably be one of them.

Finding Mr. Marin’s building did not take long. A boy playing in the street pointed it out before running after his friend. She approached the front steps while a woman came down them.

“Pardon me, but are you Mrs. Marin?”

The woman burst out laughing. “As if I would marry such a man. There’s enough worthless drunkards in the world without going and marrying one of them.”

The man drank. She would have to get him sober before he met his cousin. “He does live here, though. Am I correct?”

The woman pointed over her shoulder. “Right there. First door to the right after you enter. Have your handkerchief at the ready. The place stinks.” She walked down the street.

When a woman who lived in this neighborhood said a chamber stunk, Minerva did not argue the point. She loosened the drawstring on her reticule so she could reach her handkerchief quickly. Then she mounted the steps, opened the front door, and found the first one on the right.

She hoped Mr. Marin had risen by now. If he drank perhaps he hadn’t. But then if he drank who knew when he would be awake or asleep. She rapped on the door.

Sounds came from within. Scrapes and thuds and at least one curse. The door opened a crack and red-rimmed eyes peered at her.

Mr. Marin looked younger than she had expected, even if bad living had aged him before his time. Blond hair hung around his head in tangles, long and ungroomed. He stood a little taller than she did. Mrs. Jeffers said they had played together as children, but she must have had at least a dozen years on him.

“Who are you? Some reformer lady?”

“No. Do I look like one?”

“A bit. No need for you here. You go above. There’s a man there with two women who need saving. They make too much noise all night.”

“Mr. Marin, I am not here to save anyone. I have come—”

“How’d you know my name?” He eyed her suspiciously.