CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Officer Hamilton rose from the wingback and offered it to Mrs. Shelley.
“There’s a chill in the air, London still shrouded in fog,” she said, accepting a cup of tea. “Was the evening eventful in Great Pulteney Street after I retired to Mayfair?”
“As you see, Mrs. Shelley,” Polidori said, “we have both survived the night. No sign of our fiend. Those below remain secure, unhindered in their repose.”
“As above, so below,” she said, glancing sideways at Hamilton hunkered down on the wooden bench. His legs were far too long to be comfortable on such low furniture. “Are you mending from your skirmish, Doctor Polidori? I’m grateful to see the rose has returned to your cheeks.”
He grinned at the minute up-twitch of her right brow—a surreptitious language that had evolved b
