Free Blood on the Strand by Susanna Gregory

was a dull day, the
     sky a mass of solid white above. It was darkened by smoke from the thousands of fires lit to heat water and bread for breakfast,
     and the drizzle that began to fall was thick with soot.
    There was no point in going to White Hall straight away, because no self-respecting courtier would be out of his bed until
     at least nine o’clock, and Chaloner did not want to roam deserted corridors and attract unnecessary attention. It was also
     too early to visit the gunsmith, as such places tended to open later than the stalls that sold foodstuffs. Instead, he headed
     for Hercules’s Pillars Alley, a lane running south from Fleet Street, opposite the Church of St Dunstan-in-the-West. Just
     before he had left for Ireland, his friend Temperance North had bought a house there, and he had not yet been to see how she
     was settling in. It was an odd hour to call on anyone, but Temperance was a devout Puritan who always rose early for chapel,
     so he knew she would be awake.
    Temperance had been left destitute and pregnant when her parents had died, but Thurloe had tackled thelaw-courts to salvage some of their estate for her. He had done better than anyone had anticipated, and although grief had
     caused Temperance to miscarry, she had rallied her spirits and spent her fortune on a rambling three-storeyed house taxed
     on fourteen hearths. It was a large place for a single woman, but she had enigmatically informed her anxious friends that
     she had plans for it.
    On the chilly February day when she had taken him to inspect the building, Chaloner had thought it gloomy and unprepossessing,
     but three months later it was transformed. Gone were the rotten windows, and in their place were fresh, brightly painted shutters
     and flowers in pots on the sills. The roof had been re-tiled, and iron railings fenced off a small yard at the front of the
     house, paved with flagstones and shaded by a dripping tree. He was impressed by the speed with which Temperance had made her
     changes, and saw she had not allowed herself to wallow in self-pity.
    He was about to approach the door, when it opened and two well-dressed men reeled out, although their drunkenness was not
     the boisterous kind. Chaloner ducked behind a water butt when he saw they were accompanied by a man called Preacher Hill,
     a nonconformist fanatic who did a great deal of damage with his loud opinions and bigotry. Chaloner waited until they had
     gone, then tapped on the door, pondering why the three men should have been visiting Temperance at such a peculiar hour. It
     was hardly proper, and he wondered whether Thurloe had been right to help her move away from the kindly widow who had looked
     after her following the death of her parents.
    The door was opened by Temperance herself. She was a tall, solidly built woman of twenty, with a large, homelyface and gorgeous tresses of shiny chestnut hair. These had been concealed under a prim bonnet when her mother had been alive,
     but now they were displayed for all to see, and Chaloner was sure even Lady Castlemaine would covet them. She had dispensed
     with the plain black skirts favoured by her co-religionists, too, and wore a tightly laced bodice that did not flatter her
     stout frame, with billowing skirts of green satin. She looked prosperous and confident, and her hazel eyes had lost the endearing
     innocence he recalled from a few months before.
    She looked him up and down appraisingly, then gestured that he could enter. ‘You have come at an odd time. Most men prefer
     evenings, but I shall see what we can do, since you look respectable.’
    Chaloner was bemused by the cool greeting. ‘What are you talking about?’
    Temperance peered into his face, then released a bubbling chuckle of pleasure. ‘Thomas! I did not recognise you under all
     that paint. Are you engaged on another assignment for your earl? Where have you been these last three months? You sent a note
     in February saying you were going