Calista Langley operates an exclusive “introduction” agency in Victorian London, catering to respectable ladies and gentlemen who find themselves alone in the world. But now, a dangerously obsessed individual has begun sending her trinkets and gifts suitable only for those in deepest mourning—a black mirror, a funeral wreath, a ring set with black jet stone. Each is engraved with her initials.
Desperate for help and fearing that the police will be of no assistance, Calista turns to Trent Hastings, a reclusive author of popular crime novels. Believing that Calista may be taking advantage of his lonely sister, who has become one of her clients, Trent doesn’t trust her. Scarred by his past, he’s learned to keep his emotions at bay, even as an instant attraction threatens his resolve.
But as Trent and Calista comb through files of rejected clients in hopes of identifying her tormentor, it becomes clear that the danger may be coming from Calista’s own secret past—and that only her death will satisfy the stalker...
Ms. Quick tells us, the reader, that this is a more "edgier" novel. True in some regards but I found it to still be vintage Ms. Quick.
I'd call this a Gothic Mystery with a twist of Romance?
Everything that I want from a Quick book is here- the wit, the great characters, a well rounded, well researched read.
It's got a strong smart ahead of her times so to speak heroine in Calista. The hero Trent is a huge hearted, scarred man who writes detective novels(and everyone seems to have ideas for them for him). And let's net forget the thoroughly creepy madman(just try to guess...)
This novel should please fans and generate some new ones. I can't wait for the next one.
She belonged to him.
He was locked inside a cage the size and shape of a coffin.
A dark thrill heated his blood like a powerful, intoxicating drug.
When the time came he would purify the woman and cleanse
himself with her blood. But tonight was not the time. The ritual had to be followed
correctly. The woman must be made to comprehend and acknowledge the great wrong
that she had done. There was no finer instructor than fear.
He huddled inside the concealed lift, listening to the
sounds of someone moving about in the bedroom on the other side of the wall. There
was a narrow crack in the paneling. Excitement sparked through him when he
caught a glimpse of the woman. She was at her dressing table, adjusting the
pins in her dark brown hair. It was as if she knew he was watching and was
deliberately taunting him.
She was passable in appearance, but he had seen her on the
street and had not been particularly impressed with her looks. She was overly
tall for a woman and her forceful character was etched on her face. She was
dangerous. It was all there in her unnerving eyes.
The woman rose from the dressing table chair and moved out
of sight. A moment later he heard the muffled sound of the bedroom door opening
and closing.
Silence.
He slid the cage door aside and opened the wooden panel. The
wall sconce had been turned down low but he could make out the bed, the
dressing table, and the wardrobe.
He moved out of the lift. The heady exhilaration he always
experienced at such moments roared through him. With every step of the ritual
he came closer to achieving his own purification.
For a precious few seconds he debated where to leave his
gift. The bed or the dressing table?
The bed, he decided. So much more intimate.
He made his way out through the tradesmen’s entrance and
slipped, unseen, into the gardens. The
gate was still unlocked, just as he had
left it.
A few minutes later he was lost in the fog. The weight of
the knife in its sheath beneath his greatcoat was reassuring.
The ritual was almost complete.
The woman with the unnerving eyes would soon understand
that she belonged to him. It was her destiny to be the one to cleanse him. He
was certain of it. The connection between them was a bond that could be
shattered only by death.
Posted by arrangement with
Berkley Books, a member of Penguin Group (USA) LLC, A Penguin Random House
Company. Copyright © Jayne Ann Krentz, 2016.
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