 Ealing 1825 Oliver stared out the window of the library at Halstead Hall. The dreary winter day further depressed his spirits as he fought to shove his painful memories back into the stout strongbox in which he kept them. It was so much harder here than in town, where he could lose himself in wenches and wine. Not that he could lose himself for long. Though the scandal was nineteen years old, there were still whispers of it wherever he went. Gran had told the guests that night that Mother had gone to the hunting lodge to be alone and had fallen asleep. Awakened by sounds of what she thought was an intruder, she'd panicked and shot him, only ... | 
