CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
The cabriolet pulled over the ridge to the outskirts of Sonzier. The rain poured relentlessly and, despite the blanket and hood, both Mary and Polidori were thoroughly drenched. The empire shawl clung to Mary’s arms as she attempted to pull it up to cover her disheveled bangs.
“Would you care to take the comfort of rooms here, Mrs. Shelley?” Polidori wiped the water from his face. “We may wait out the torrent or, if need be, secure a residence for the night.”
“No, John. We are almost home. Willmouse will be waiting and I would much prefer the warmth of my own bath and robe before the evening is . . .”
Mary squinted toward a fire in the wood not far from their transport. Giant flames leapt into the air, making the drops of precipitation sparkle a yellow halo around t
