The howler Club
Tonight at 10
*Rexton*
I stare at the note my butler just delivered. It's not unusual for me to receive a message like the one I'm holding… my membership at the club is a well-known fact among those in the know, and in my youth, I frequented the establishment quite often.
But I have grown weary of married she-wolves and widows in want of brief affairs. I'm also used to the notes being signed, or at least offering a hint as to whom I might be meeting for a rendezvous. "Who delivered it?" I ask Winchester now.
"Some scruffy lad. He wore no livery, and I didn't see a coach or carriage about. The boy knocked at the servants' door, handed it over, and scampered away as though fearing a hangman's noose was about to drop about his neck." He says.
I don't recognize the handw
