The Poisoner's Game

Chapter 1

M.

Spring of 1877

Belgravia, London

Nothing good ever happened in London.

Escaping out of a window while my first ball of the season thrummed below had to be my worst idea yet. The letter in my reticule pushed me toward the ledge and a new wash of tears cloaked my eyes. Murder, the Poisoner, and a duke had pushed me into a new storyline. Even now, the events of that time could have been pulled directly from a Penny Dreadful printed on cheap pulp paper.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood and moved forward. Everything would be fine once I reached the twisting maze in the garden. A loud creak sounded outside of the door and my heart beat grew to meet it. With one last check of the gardens, I tossed my reticule out of the window. It landed in the bushes below before sliding onto the stone pathway with a painful thud. I hoped I would fair better. Gripping the velvet drapes, I took a deep breath and planted myself on the window ledge.

Just as I had gained the courage to release the ledge I heard a voice. "Whatever are you doing?"

Bollocks. "What do you think I am doing?" I had no better response.

"Let me help you down."

The voice flirted with my memory. A handsome face with sparkling eyes. I turned my head to look at the speaker. A young man with tousled golden-brown hair watched me with an amused quirk in his brow. Without a pencil mark left on my dance card, I remembered him by his hand on the small of my back and his lips on the palm of my hand as the "Blue Danube" came to life. The feeling of gliding across the floor and belonging somewhere, if only for that moment, danced across the hollows of my heart with shimmering violins and answering woodwinds. A moment I was desperate to find again—hold onto and never let go. With a shuddered wince, I released the memory as it slid through my fingers until nothing remained.

I must have also released the ledge.

Air rushed past me and I couldn't even scream. I hit the bush, the branches splintering under my weight and piercing my hands. To my ears it sounded thunderous. My eyes remained shut for fear that the entirety of high society would be standing before me. I felt solid ground beneath my feet and forced myself to stand. Cracking my eyes open, I saw only the young man. His mouth hung open and he cleared his throat.

I brushed my hands down my worn yellow dress. With false bravado, I moved away from the bush. "I can take care of myself."

My knees trembled, and I turned toward the maze counting my breaths. I forced one foot in front of the other.

"My lady?"

I stopped and turned around. Hidden behind the thick brown clouds, I imagined that the stars laughed at my fate. They had given me quite a fate after all...murdered parents and lies.

"I am assuming you don't wish to leave this behind?" The young man held up my tattered reticule.

I didn't think my cheeks could heat further. With stiff legs, I walked back to the young man. The walk back seemed infinite and an edge of hysteria thrummed at my fingertips. My lips yearned to tell someone, anyone, that a murderer hunted me. A little voice whispered in the back of my mind, how did I know what my grandfather wrote held the truth? I thought he had died years ago after all.

Sticking out my hand, I stayed several feet away from the young man. "I'll take it now and be on my way."

He handed it to me after a moment of hesitation. "I didn't mean to look in it but if you're truly planning to run away, for why else would you be jumping from a window, I think you are woefully unprepared."