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by
K.J. Charles
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October 24 - October 26, 2024
He could have his pick of London’s beauties, mix with the best people, assert his place in the top few hundred of the Upper Ten Thousand, claim the social status of which many people dreamed and for which some would sacrifice everything. He could have all that if he lifted a finger, and if someone held a gun to his head to make him do it.
It was merely irritating that the boot was so firmly on the other foot, for once; that it was Crane waiting for Stephen to turn up on his own unpredictable schedule, knowing that he would offer no more than a lopsided, provocative smile as explanation for his absence.
“Problem?” enquired his henchman. “No. Nothing.” “Mr. Day didn’t turn up, then?” said Merrick, homing in on his thoughts as ever. “Been and gone.” “Came and went?”
“I know. You looked a great deal less scared when we were about to be murdered by warlocks.” “That was only death. This was Esther.”
“You know, Gold’s right. You’re a fool, and I’m another. Between us, we’d barely make a village idiot.
“This is typical of you, Steph,” said Dr. Gold bitterly. “Typical. Of course you can’t just be unnatural like everyone else. Go on, get this overgrown magic lantern out of my way, this is a surgery, not a circus. Out!”