CHAPTER FIFTY
Polidori took a swig from his flask as he scratched out a letter to Mary in the club lounge on the second floor of Brooks’s in St. James’s Street. Boar heads and stag heads—one a twenty-pointer—adorned the walls amongst paintings of fox hunts, sea battles, and man’s best friend. Normally the gentlemen, and a few requisite dandies, would be reading the broadsheets, huddled in quiet conversations or card games, or hovering over the billiard table. But tonight the wingbacks and card tables were empty, the library nooks deserted. The billiard table was dormant save for the club feline, Duchess Angela, stretching luxuriously and l*****g her paws.
The men, tonight, were all crowded around a mantle at the far end of the room, under a cloud of smoke, listening to the reading of a n
