London, February 1821
Endgame
John strode across the bustle of Piccadilly, the wide road alive with people even at this late hour. He was glad to turn his steps toward home and to disappear into the huddle of dark streets that was Soho. He felt more at ease here in the shadows than he did in the melee of the West End. There, flaming torches lit the way, gilding the streets with an orange glow leading toward the gambling dens masquerading as gentlemen’s clubs.
In that particular area, the pavements were crowded with men of all walks of life, ambling along. The good folk of the respectable world were safely in their beds, allowing the nightlife to blossom fully and garishly. So, gentlemen and their inferiors were able to enjoy the lures of London in the early hours of the morning, eagerly
