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young lady I wish to know about is a Miss Elizabeth Matthews."
    Miles's brows rose. "Lady Penbroke's American niece?"
    Austin schooled his features into a blandness he did not feel. "You've met her?"
    "On several occasions. Unlike some unsociable sorts we know, I attended dozens of balls this Season—balls Lady Penbroke and Miss Matthews attended. In fact, Miss Matthews is here this evening. Do you wish me to introduce you?"
    "We met, earlier, in the garden."
    "I see." Although a dozen questions clearly flashed in Miles's eyes, he merely asked "What do you want to know about her?"
    Everything. "As you've met her, tell me your impressions."
    Miles took his time before answering, settling himself in an overstuffed wing chair by the fireplace, then swirling his brandy in his snifter with a leisure that had Austin gritting his teeth with impatience.
    "I think," Miles finally said, "that she is a fine young woman, intelligent, with a clever wit. Unfortunately, she's somewhat awkward in social situations, tongue-tied and shy one moment, outspoken the next. In truth I thought her rather a breath of fresh air, but based on the gossip I hear, I possibly stand alone in that opinion."
    "What gossip? Anything scandalous?"
    Miles waved his hand in dismissal. "No, nothing of that sort. Indeed I don't see how the woman could find herself caught in a scandal when nearly everyone shuns her."
    An image of a disheveled, smiling woman flashed in Austin's mind.
    "Why is she shunned?"
    Miles shrugged. "Who can say how these things start? The women twitter behind their fans at her awkwardness on the dance floor and her lack of conversation. Several branded her a bluestocking after she engaged a group of lords in a discussion regarding the benefits of herbal healing. The instant one person labels her unacceptable, the rest follow."
    "Doesn't Lady Penbroke lend her niece support?"
    "I haven't paid particular attention, but no doubt the worst snubs are conducted away from the countess's sharp eyes. But even her formidable support cannot singlehandedly ensure gaining the ton's favor."
    "Do you know how long she's been in England?"
    Miles stroked his chin. "I believe she arrived soon after Boxing Day, so she'd be here about six months."
    "I'd like you to find out exactly when she arrived and on what ship. I also want to know if this is her first trip to England."
    "Why don't you simply ask her?"
    "I did. She claims she arrived six months ago and that this is her first visit here."
    Miles's eyes sharpened with interest. "And you don't believe her? May I ask why?"
    Forcing nonchalance into his voice, Austin said "It's possible she may have been acquainted with William. I want to know for certain. If she was, I want to know how, when, and where they met."
    "Again, why don't you simply ask her?"
    Austin suppressed the urge to rake his hands through his hair in frustration. "I cannot say until I know more. I also want to know about her past. Why she left America. Her financial situation. Her family status.
    Anything you can find."
    "Perhaps you should hire a Bow Street Runner. They—"
    "No." The razor-sharp word sliced off Miles's suggestion. He'd already engaged a Runner a fortnight ago to locate the Frenchman named Gaspard —the man he'd seen with William that last time . . . the man Austin suspected knew something about the letter now locked in his desk. He had no wish to involve Bow Street in this matter. "I need complete discretion from someone I trust. Now, will you make the necessary inquiries? You'll most likely need to travel to London."
    Miles studied him for several long seconds. "This is important to you."
    An image of William rose in his mind. "Yes."
    A silent look passed between them, a look born of years of friendship.
    "I'll leave in the morning," Miles said. "In the meantime, I'll begin investigating immediately by feeling out some of the party guests about the lady in question."
    "An excellent idea. Needless to say, I want any and all