The Season

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For Eric, who reminds me that love is real... even if boys don't brood about it quite as much as I'd like to think and

For the women in my life, who will find themselves in these pages

January. 1815

Blackmoor Estate, Essex, England

The rain fell steadily on the slick rocks marking the edge of the Essex countryside, where the land fell in sheer cliffs to a frigid winter sea.

His horse was uncertain of its footing, shying away from speed and direction in favor of steady ground. The creatures fear would ordinarily irritate him and mark it for sale or slaughter, but today the wet cliffs made him equally cautious. He hadn't planned to make this particular journey today—but some things would not wait.

He had received word by messenger early that morning — critical information that pointed to the possibility that the scheme he had set in motion was about to be compromised. Someone was determined to ruin everything... and that someone had to be stopped.

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