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Prologue

Early Spring London 1818

Raithe, the Baron of Balstead, watched as his last two victih the door Good They were all here

He’d carefully chosen this cast of characters, his soon-to-be house guests He needed theh he had no intention of telling them what that purpose was

This was a situation where it was best to lie

He found many situations were that way Not all of theentle were the priht sat three friends Lord Dashlane, Lord Crestwood, and Lord Craven They were his first three potential…guests

Craven was one of the few htened him a bit Quiet and sullen, he was also tall and well-muscled He looked quick as a snake and equally as deadly Then there was Dashlane, blond with a flashing smile, he was a charmer, for sure Crestas dark-haired and handsome All three liked their fair share of woroup of harlots that another band of ruffians had atteents on his list

“Are you going to tell us what this is about?” Dashlane asked, bringing his whisky to his lips

“In a uests crowded the club tonight, seats limited, which worked for him His last two players had entered the club but hadn’t picked him out of the crowd yet

The Duke of Rathh the mash of people and stopped directly in front of Raithe Rathmore turned to his cousin and best friend, Lord Hartwell “Don’t you love the sood whisky?”

Hartwell rolled his eyes “I prefer brandy, and thank goodness we missed the speaker,” he quietly announced as he brushed back his rich brown hair “I’ve no appetite for politics today”

Rathotten into you?”

“Charlie” Hartwell gri into a thin line