If Paris was the boudoir of Europe, then Lapérouse was everything that had given it that salacious reputation.

One of the finest dining establishments in all of France, it was said the literati of the Romantic era had written their magnum opuses in its candlelit corners. That jewels flashed in the shadows as the mistresses of the rich and powerful tested their diamonds on the Venetian mirrors, leaving behind scratches like the ones they left down their lovers' backs. That in Lapérouse, politics mixed with poetry and became pillow talk on velvet love seats the color of spilt wine.

It was also where they'd found the latest body.

— Strange Beasts by Susan J. Morris (Page 41)