Lord Bolliet’s Alcoholic Haze
a still-damp, raw-boned gelding- had not seen any “girls” at the house
- in London or Kent he could have obtained
- French breeding — but
- Lord Bolliet’s alcoholic haze
Lord Bolliet’s alcoholic haze made it difficult for him to disguise his aristocratic French breeding — but his very life depended on it this dangerous evening. The revolutionaries were on the hunt tonight. In London or Kent he could have obtained forged travel papers, but here in Canterbury he had no allies, no one to turn to in his time of desperation. All the ale he’d imbibed made him feel like a still-damp, raw-boned gelding on the way to the glue factory. Bolliet shook his head, not for the first time, and returned to his solitary vigil. He hoped to find a safe place to hide for a few days and had set his sights upon the rundown inn across the lane. So far he had not seen any “girls” at the house, but did not fully trust his ale-sozzled faculties and, so, determined to crouch in the hedgerow a while longer.