"Oh my."

Her fingers tightened on his hand and she regarded him with wide eyes. Her gaze rested on his lips for several seconds, then she looked away, clearly flustered. Warmth crept through him, surprising him. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she'd read his thoughts.

He was about to release her hand when she gasped. Their eyes met and he noted she appeared suddenly pale. He tried to extricate his hand from hers, but she only tightened her grip.

"What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed at her pallor, unnerved by her concentrated stare. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"William."

He froze. "Excuse me?"

Her eyes desperately searched his. "Do you know someone named William?"

Every muscle in his body tensed. "What game are you playing here?"

Instead of answering, she squeezed his hand between her palms and closed her eyes. "He's your brother," she whispered. "You've been told he died while serving his country." She opened her eyes and the look she leveled at him gave him the eerie sensation she could see right into his soul. "It's not true."

His blood turned to ice. He pulled his hand from hers and stepped back, shocked by her words. By God did this woman know his darkest secret? And if she did, how did she know?

The images he'd spent the last year trying to erase crashed through his mind. A dark alley. William meeting with a Frenchman named Gaspard. Crates of weapons. An exchange of money. Haunting questions. A bitter confrontation between brothers. Then, only weeks later, the news that William had died at Waterloo-a war hero.

His heart beat heavily in his chest as he fought to remain calm. Could this woman be more than she appeared? Could she know something about the letter he'd recently received or the activities William had conducted with the French? Could she be the clue he'd spent the last year searching for?