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Prologue

And now dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed:

Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly

“The Spider and the Fly” Mary Howitt

London, 1869, Victoria Station—An Auspicious Beginning

Winston Lane could never recall the impetus that prompted him to leave the confines of his first class railway compartment and step back onto the platfor that they would soon be off And yet, he’d felt compelled Was it for a quick draw upon his pipe? The need for a bit of air? His memory was muddled at best Perhaps it was because the whys did not matter Froed completely And it had been because of a woman

Now that he re Great billows of hot, white stea the shapes of the few railorkers attending to last hostlike subtlety Idly he watched them, interested as always in the activities of the coht have been lyrical had she been gliding along in peaceful repose, but no, this wo walk as if she owned the very air about her And though Winston had been raised to appreciate ladies who exuded utter femininity and eschew those who did not, he’d snapped to instant attention

She was tall, nearly as tall as he, this assertive miss, and dressed in soht The only spot of color was her mass of vivid, carnelian red hair coiled at the back of her head like a crown So very red, and glinting like a beacon One look and he knew he had to have her Which was rather extraordinary, for he wasn’t the sort prone to i And certainly not about wo in the abstract, but one was much like any other At nineteen, he was already set in his ways: orderly, bookish, and logical Save there was nothing logical about the hot, hard pang that caught hi beneath the red slashes of her brows

The pipe fell froround as he stood frozen, surely gaping like some slack-jawed idiot She did not appear to notice hiround, taking her away from him This, he could not allow In an instant, he was after her

He nearly broke into a run to catch her It orth it The scent of book leather and leht Books and clean woman Had God ever divined a er than he was Her pale skin was smooth, unlined, and unmarred, save for the tiny freckle just above her earlobe He had the great urge to bite that little lobe

She did not break her pace, but glanced at hi He did not bla lady without a proper introduction Then again, they were the only ones on the platforht

“Forgive me,” he said, a bit breathless, for really this woman was fast on her feet, “I realize this is rather forward and usually I would never—”

“Never what?” she cut in, her voice crisp and s ladies who have the temerity to walk unescorted in public areas?”

Well, now that he thought of it, she really ought to have a guardian with her She did not appear to be froail, but a sister or an aunt perhaps? Or a husband A shudder went through hi married Heat her, raceful curve of her jaw

“I would never presume to proposition you, miss Indeed, should any such scoundrel approach you, it would be hts” And now he sounded like a prig, and a hypocrite

She suess You are aLadies and Innocents and want toalone” Cool brown eyes glinted as she glanced at hiut started to ache “Or perhaps you merely seek a contribution?”

He could not help it; he grinned “And if I were, would you listen to my testimony?”

Her soft, pink lips pursed Whether in irritation or in amusement, he could not tell Nor did he care He wanted to run his tongue along thee hts Yet speaking to her felt natural, as if he’d done so a thousand times before

“I don’t know, is your testiood?”

Like that, he was hard as iron His voice ca the virtues of my testimony, there is only one way for you to truly find out”

When she blushed, it was a deep pink that clashed beautifully with her hair “Well, you certainly talk a good talk,” she rew

They neared the end of the platforave one last, loud whistle

His cheeky ht brows “You’ll miss your train, sir”

“So, and some are not”

Coarded hi “What do you want?”

You “To know your naht coant sort he’d done at court recently “Winston Lane at your service, madam”

For the life of hi her his full name The lie shamed him, and he ain and good intentions flew froet her to truly smile? What would she look like flushed with passion? His skin went hot

Her dark eyes looked over his shoulder “Your train is leaving”

The platforroaned out of the station He didn’t even look “I find,” he said, keeping his eyes upon her gloriously stern visage, “that I no longer wish to leave London”

Unsurprisingly, she held his gaze without a blush or one of the coy looks the ladies in his sphere would have employed “Do you always act the fool?”