Chapter 17
At the Union Club on Bent Street, men wandered in and out at all hours. Each time, a doorman pulled the doors open, bowed, and greeted them with a polite good evening or good morning as the time of day warranted. Clement arrived not long after the day shift started, eyes bleary and lips parted in a relaxed smile. He smelled of spring flowers and smoke. The doorman on duty greeted him as any other. Not for him to judge what the lord’s son got up to.
‘Morning, Fredericks, old man.’
‘Morning, sir. Have a pleasant evening?’ His name was not Fredericks, but what did it matter?
‘I did indeed. Everyone is so friendly in this city.’
The doorman’s smile was practiced and did not reach his eyes. ‘We do our best. Would you like some breakfast sent up to your room, sir?
Clement stoppe
