Charles was a master of his craft, known far and wide for his lush rose bushes and sprawling ivy. But there was one flower that had always eluded him—the delicate and elusive lady slipper orchid.

Millicent sighed. At sixty-two, she had weathered enough society storms to know that scandal was as inevitable in their circles as rain in an English spring. “And you’re certain it was him? The fog has been terribly thick these past evenings.”

A gentle breeze was blowing outside, and the open window caused the wind to rustle her curtains.

Three weeks had passed since consumption had claimed Catherine, her only sibling and closest companion. Their parents had departed years earlier, leaving the sisters to rely solely upon each other. Now, at twenty-six, Adelaide was utterly alone in their modest townhouse in Bloomsbury.

Six months after Rupert’s death, Josephine still felt unsettled. She needed to know if perhaps he was waiting on the other side with a message for her or their children.

March 1853 Kent, England "My lady, if I may interfere," her maid stepped forward from behind the desk where Lady Mary Fontaine sat...

Annabelle’s fingers fumbled for the matches. She lit a fresh candle with trembling hands and turned to face the figure forming in the mist.

Johnathon's nightmares are back. What will they be tonight?

"Mary," he interrupted gently, "people here are far too concerned with appearances. There is nothing improper about feeding ducks."

Mr. Fairweather has some unfinished business and asks for help from Miss Amelia Reed.

His mother was coming in with a large plate of gingerbread men. His mouth watered as the aroma of the warm spices filled the air.

Thick fog shifted and swirled between the walls of the large stone house. A weak sun was feebly attempting to shine through