Chapter 1 “MR. WINTERBORNE, A WOMAN IS here to see you.” Rhys looked up from the stack of letters on his desk with a scowl. His personal secretary, Mrs. Fernsby, stood at the threshold of his private office, her eyes sharp behind round spectacles. She was a tidy hen of a woman, middle-aged and just a bit plump. “You know I don’t receive visitors at this hour.” It was his morning ritual to spend the first half hour of the day reading mail in uninterrupted silence. “Yes, sir, but the visitor is a lady, and she—” “I don’t care if she’s the bloody Queen,” he snapped. “Send her away.” Mrs. Fernsby’s lips pinched into a disapproving hyphen. She left promptly, the heels of her shoes hitting the floor like the staccato of gunfire. Rhys returned his attention to the letter in front of him. Losing his temper was a luxury he rarely permitted himself, but for the past week he’d been invaded by a sullen gloom that weighted every thought and heartbeat, and made him want to lash out at anyone within reach. All because of a woman he had known better than to want. Lady Helen Ravenel . . . a woman who was cultured, innocent, shy, aristocratic. Everything he was not. Their engagement had lasted a mere two weeks before Rhys had managed to ruin it. The last time he had seen Helen, he’d been