Read The Dead London Chronicles: Vol I, June 2016 Page 4
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There was always, Mishael de Chastelaine mused, something. A house party to welcome the Prussian prince of something or other, a hellfire gathering with another fat duke...
This weekend, though, it wasn’t a house party, it was the house party, the only invitation worth having in the whole of these Isles. This was a house party with the cream of society, where reputations might be made or broken and where Satan himself would welcome the guests, clad in his red silk, his ebony cane held in one elegant hand.