The Ledger of Blackwood Hall
I. The fog that November evening in London was not merely weather; it was a living thing, a grey spectre that crept through the streets of Mayfair and pressed its cold face against the windows of Blackwood Hall. Edgar Blackwood stood at the iron gates, the creditor's final notice crumpled in his gloved hand, and felt the weight of three centuries of Blackwood heritage pressing upon his...
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