CHAPTER NINETEEN
The cab pulled up in front of The Punchbowl in the center of Mayfair.
“It looks just how I imagined it from Polidori’s letter.”
“The outside perhaps, but inside has been renovated at least a dozen times—Polidori wouldn’t recognize it. He might know the layout of the private dining rooms upstairs, but even those are decked out with century-old antiques not even imagined until decades after his death. Despite their age they would all appear thoroughly modern, perhaps futuristic, to him.”
Rachel had always been careful with dates in her research, but many things were beyond the breadth of her examination. There would always be some haziness as to what Polidori meant when he wrote wingback or cabriolet. They could have been current models to the day, or they could have bee
