To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. “Going to visit our little friend the vampire?” “What?” He asked, incredulous. ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. There was going to be no quarter between these two. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. ” “I met you accidentally,” he reminded her. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on.
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