During and after dinner he had nothing to excite him save the receipt of a letter which somewhat annoyed him, and that his wife consumed rather more wine than he considered to be good for her health. Immediately after retiring to his room he was seized with symptoms of irritant poisoning, and despite every effort made on his behalf, he succumbed to its effects. An inquest was held, which vexed the minds of the Coroner’s jury to a degree without precedent in Coroners’ Inquest Law, and an open verdict was returned. However, the matter will not rest there, for after questions in Parliament, a second inquest has been called under suspicion that Mr Charles Petrie was murdered. * * * Who poisoned Charles Petrie? Dr James Collymore, a man familiar with poisons, a man harbouring a dark secret that, if exposed, would ruin his career; Florrie, the maid who supplied Charles with his bedtime drink; Bert Kemp, a disgruntled groom, who used poisons in his work, who four months previously had predicted Charles’ dying day; Mrs Jennet Quinn, a lady’s companion with a deep knowledge of poisons, and a deep fear of dismissal; or Grace Petrie, Charles’ wife of four months, a woman with a scandalous past, a woman shunned by polite society. With crowds flocking to the courtroom and the shadow of suspicion falling upon Grace in the shape of the hangman’s noose, could dashing young advocate, Daniel Morgan, save her?

    Cooper Silwood, precise in attire, composed in appearance, and punctual as usual to the minute, walked into his room on the first floor of 176 New Square, Lincoln's Inn, where were the offices of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, the well-known and long-established firm of solicitors of which he was a partner. He was met, as was customary, on his entrance by the head-clerk, John Williamson, who had already opened and sorted out methodically the letters received over-night. An admirable specimen of his class, Williamson generally wore an air of great imperturbability, but this morning his face had a troubled expression. "Anything special, Mr. Williamson?" asked Silwood quietly, putting away his hat and gloves.

     When her father’s men steal from the wrong nobleman, Beatrix finds herself negotiating her freedom with the most unusual Marquess. And she’s the bargaining chip. Callum Ahern, Marquess of Bellton, is burdened with precious cargo: his late mother’s wedding diadem. Assaulted by a band of thieves, his only hope of reclaiming it comes in the form of an unexpected hostage: the beautiful daughter of the outlaw that ambushed him. Trapped between social rules and their burgeoning feelings for each other, Beatrix and Callum must overcome not only a brush with death but also their past. The red thread of fate connects them all, and when Beatrix’s father comes out of hiding to save her, he holds the spinning wheel: a twenty-year-old secret, from the night Beatrix was born…