The Garden of Falling Stars
Chapter I The fog clung to London like a shroud, thick and grey, swallowing the gaslights whole. Lady Catherine Vance stood at the window of her Bloomsbury townhouse, her fingertips pressed against the cold glass, watching the Thames writhe in the twilight. It was November, 1888. The Empire had never been greater, and never more fragile. She was twenty-eight, and already she carried upon her...
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