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PART I

“The heart has reasons of which reason has no knowledge”

—Pascal, Pensées

Prologue

Georgetown, District of Columbia

1810

Danger wore an elegant coat and arrogance When twelve-year-old Celia Sinclair opened the door that cool autu, a tall man with features as sharp as a hawk stood on the stoop His voice was impatient and brusque, the words clipped, the accent unmistakably British

“I have come to visit Madame”

When she did not reply, but continued to stare at him, he added impatiently, “This is the home of Léonie St Remy, is it not?”

Celia smoothed her hands over the blue kersey of her dress, suddenly aware of how shabby she must look “Madame Sinclair is busy at the moment, sir If you will leave your card, I will—”

“My card? Rather pretentious of you, considering this huirl” He pushed her hand ahen she ed his body inside “Inforton wishes to see her at once”

Brown eyes stared down at her from a face pitted with the faint reh and stark, the slash of black eyebrows a marked contrast to his powdered hair

This was Lord Northington, the man her mother had once said was a beast!

“Don’t stand there gaping at irl,” he said sharply “I’ll see you’re dismissed from your post for this impertinence Fetch Madame at once!”

“I a her ar Madaive it to her”

“Impudent brat,” he spat “I know she’s here I followed her” Even in the glooer in his eyes, the white lines that cut grooves on each side of his rated, “It would serve you best to do as you’re told The consequences can so often be…unpleasant”