Anita Mills

“crust, there lurked a much darker society in turmoil. Displaced by machines or made superfluous by the end of the Napoleonic Wars, many desperate people turned to crime and vice to survive. Opium dens, thieves’ kitchens, brothels, and gin shops thrived in London’s stews and alleys. Brought together by rumor, mobs formed spontaneously, looting and destroying houses, torching occupied carriages, and generally wreaking havoc until the Horse Guards showed up and began shooting. Then the rioters fled, melting into dark alleys, leaving behind the bodies of their comrades,”
― Anita Mills, Secret Nights

“the tilbury, you must admit.” “Aye, I suppose,” Hayes admitted grudgingly. “But they don’t add anything to your consequence, if I may say it.” “How long have you been with me?” Patrick asked, smiling. “Since you was going to Cambridge, sir.” “Then you must surely know what a thick hide I have, eh?” Scarce inside, Patrick reached beneath the neck of his black gown to loosen his cravat. “Tell Wilson I’d have a bath,” he ordered, “and while it is being drawn, I’ll take a glass of port while I read the post.” “Of course, sir,” Hayes replied. “And would you have a nuncheon laid for you?” “No, I’ve not time to sit down to a meal. Just have Thomas bring up bread and meat to the library, I’ll eat while I read.”
― Anita Mills, Secret Nights