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that. I’m innocent.” Declan shook his head defiantly. He would not go to prison for murdering his wife. It was impossible. Unthinkable. “And I will not skulk away in shame as if I’ve committed a crime when I haven’t,” he declared.
    “It’s your neck,” Gerald offered. “I just thought you should know that the situation has become more serious and it might be wise to take your leave while you still have the opportunity.”
    “They can say I’m guilty, but that does not mean that I am. Besides, they have no proof of anything. Jesus, Gerald, I’m only twenty-five years old! I refuse to give up my inheritance, my title, and my home to take the blame for something I had no part in.”
    Gerald grew quiet, his graying brows furrowed. “Then come home and face them. You’re not proving your innocence by hiding here in London.”
    “I’m not hiding! I’m here because of my daughter. And Margaret’s family knows this. They’re angry I took Mara away from them, which is another reason they are lashing out at me while I’m not there to defend myself. If the Ryans had any proof at all they would have had me arrested already.”
    “So you’re staying here in London then?” Gerald asked.
    Declan nodded. “For the time being, yes.”
    “Any idea how long that might be?”
    Declan released a very long sigh. “As long as it takes.”

Chapter 4
    Attraction
    Paulette pulled up the shade that covered the door to Hamilton’s Book Shoppe, turned the “Closed” sign to read “Open,” and smiled as the morning sun greeted her. Finally! A bit of good weather after the rainy spell they’d had the last few days! She glanced around the tidy shop, pleased with its attractive and inviting appearance. She and Colette had worked tirelessly to make the shop a success and her pride in her family’s business filled her with joy.
    She could barely recall the cramped, dusty, and disorganized place it had been when their father had been alive and handled everything, before she and Colette had transformed the shop. But she distinctly remembered being a very little girl and her father lifting her up to the top of the ladder so she could reach a book for him. Paulette had loved being up that high. She had loved the smell of the books. A beautiful mix of leather, paper, and ink. And when her father had allowed her to assist him, she adored helping customers choose the perfect book.
    Running her hand along the glass-covered counter, she savored this early morning quiet when she first opened the store and she was the only one there. The shop truly belonged to her then and it was her favorite time of the day. She reveled in being the first one up and out of the house and busy at the shop. It made her feel as if she were ahead of everyone else.
    The bell over the door jingled merrily. “Good morning, Miss Paulette!”
    She smiled at the red-haired young man who entered the shop. “Good morning, Tom. How are you today?”
    “I’m just fine on this gorgeous morning.” His freckled face grinned broadly and he placed a cloth-lined basket on the counter. “My mother sent these over to you.”
    “Oh, I can smell them from here!” Paulette squealed with delight. Mrs. Alcott made the most heavenly shortbread biscuits and she knew they were Paulette’s favorite. Tom Alcott and his mother had lived in the rooms above the bookshop for the last few years and had been the caretakers of sorts.
    Her older sister, Lisette Hamilton Roxbury, had helped to save Tom and his mother from the slums of St. Giles and had given them work and lodging at Hamilton’s Book Shoppe. It had been a perfect arrangement all around. Although about six months ago, Mrs. Alcott and Tom finally moved to one of the houses that Quinton Roxbury had designed. Paulette had not yet found anyone to take the Alcotts’ place and the living quarters upstairs, where the Hamilton sisters had been born and raised, were still unused.
    “Please thank your mother for me,”