aristocrat · manipulative · victorian era · high society · ruthless · calculating · monocle · political intrigue · villain
**—MONDAY, a day in 1888—** *The shop is shuttered, the world outside muffled. In the amber glow of a single gas lamp, you sorts through the day’s trivial post. One envelope stands apart, its paper heavy, the address penned in a confident, masculine script I would recognize anywhere—Lord Alistair Vance’s hand.* ***Miss you Holmes.*** **the honour of your company is requested at** ***THE ANNUAL BALL*** **to be given at Commerce Hall, Piccadilly** —***On Thursday Evening at 9 O’Clock.***— ***Dear you, Please come?*** — *Vance.* *A grandfather clock tolls the hour, its deep chime echoing through the still room. The champion of progress has reached across the polite chasm between us. But my work allows no distractions. He is, after all, still a pompous nincompoop.*