Page 1

Prologue

“Oh, my Lord,” Orris exclaimed.

There was a note pinned to the torn jacket. Abram bent down, then gathered the man up in his arms. There was no sound. His heart shattered at the cold touch of his dearest friend.

Abram stared at the lump of flesh at his feet. The man’s face had been beaten to a pulp. His clothes were filthy, dirt and grime covering every inch of his person. Even through what appeared to be a grotesque, blood-coated mask stretched over his features, Abram knew. There was no need to look any further. His friend had been dropped there. And he was either dead—or well on his way.

He called out the man’s name, jostling him in the hopes he might be revived. Nothing. Not a gasp or moan, even a whisper.

Abram pulled the note from his friend’s body and read the hastily scrawled message. It read, simply… YOU ARE NEXT.

He crumpled the note and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket. “I swear on my honor, I will avenge you.” Pressing the blood-coated hand to his forehead, the sting of tears burned to the fore. How could this have happened? They had just shared a meal… just shared a promise.

As much sorrow as Abram had to endure, he needed to get Orris back home safely. He looked to her. “I need to get you out of here. Come stand in the hallway.”

Thankfully, she did as he instructed. Lifting his fallen friend by the torso, Abram dragged him into the room. It was no easy feat. He had to get him to the center, and by the time he’d finished moving the dead weight, he was terribly winded, panting as he attempted to regain control of his breathing.

After making sure his feet cleared the doorway, he closed him in with a promise to secure a proper burial and rightful revenge on the sod who had taken his life.

But now, he would get Orris home so no one would see her and sully her good name. “Did you drive a carriage here?” he asked.

“Yes, borrowed… to avoid suspicion.” Her eyes were wide and he knew she was likely in shock.

“Come. We must make haste. I will take you home and then contact the London police.” Without waiting for her to react, he took her hand and guided her to the street. “Where is the carriage?” he asked, avoiding eye contact with any of the passersby.

“Down there.” She pointed to the ornate, gray vehicle at the end of the lane.

They weaved through people, a throng of workers and pedestrians making their rounds. He cursed their presence, the desire to get her home superseding any other need.

By the time they’d made it to the carriage, both were out of breath, panting as he helped her into the driver’s seat.

“Abram, drivers do not need assistance into their seats,” she kept her voice low as she cast her eyes downward to the driver’s cloak she’d donned for the ruse. “And you are needed here. I will return home on my own.”

“I cannot—”

“No, you cannot. We would have to get you back here, and… your friend needs you. I shall be fine.” She said the words like a promise.

He hung on each one, with a prayer she was right. No harm could befall her, for he was not sure what he would do. For another in his life to be harmed right after… He would surely be torn asunder. “Please, Orris. Make haste home.”

“I shall.”

“Go,” he said, stepping away from the carriage for fear he should never let her leave his side.

He watched until she disappeared around the corner. The worst feeling came over him. He knew in that instant, if something were to happen to Orris Gray, he would simply cease to exist.

Chapter One

April 1890

“Where is he?” Orris Lillian Gray did not elegantly glide into the room as a good and gentle lady. She crashed into it, breaking the veneer of serenity, demanding to be heard, as was Orris’s way.

Mama, famed retired soprano Seraphine Ambrette, looked over to the servants and offered a nod, bidding them to take their leave. Her elegant features—high cheekbones, heart-shaped full lips, and doe-like hazel eyes set in smooth, golden-brown skin—did not once furrow or crinkle at the outburst. The door snicked closed behind Mama’s lady’s maid, Cora, and the newly hired butler, Dorchester. Once they were gone, Mama gently shook her head and leaned forward to set the delicate, fine China teacup on the table, then patted the cushion beside her on the couch.

Despite the blood roaring through Orris until she practically vibrated and the ringing in her ears, her mother’s calm demeanor served as a valve to release a bit of the rising steam. “Mama, I do not wish to quarrel. I am on the market. I was quite good in the country over winter, entertaining visitors and the like. You said I could remain friends with Thomas. And now that I am finally back, he is nowhere to be found. I demand you tell me where he has gone. Did you sack him?” Orris crossed her arms over her chest and remained standing across the room. It would be harder for Mama to see the tears that threatened, a storm front on the horizon of her soul.

“Of course not, Orris Lillian. Leaving was his choice. He was a fine groomsman. However, he was made an offer in America. One he could not refuse, I am afraid.”

The air left her body. His choice? When Orris couldn’t find Thomas for the two days since returning to London for the season, she’d known something awful had befallen her beloved. He hadn’t known himself to be loved by her, but she’d planned on telling him soon… once she, herself, was sure.