CHAPTER FOUR
A loud banging interrupted what had been a pleasant dream.
The sunlit pebbles of Brighton Beach . . . Officers of the regiment strolling barefoot in the ocean shallows . . .
A hand pressed firmly upon his chest. It was cold against his naked flesh, sucking the warmth from his slumber.
“Doctor, quickly. A Bow Street Runner awaits you at the door.”
Polidori rubbed brusquely at his face, attempting to wake. He pushed himself up onto his elbow amongst pillows and quilted eiderdowns. “Has there been another?” he said.
His valet nodded, fright evident on his features, garishly lit by the single candle on the washstand. Polidori quickly donned a shirt and pulled Wellington boots onto his stockinged feet as the valet held his frock coat high. He was still fastening the top butto
