{"product_id":"the-belle-of-belgrave-square-isbn-9780593337158","title":"The Belle of Belgrave Square","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Shiveringly Gothic.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA PopSugar and BookBub Best Romance of 2022!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA London heiress rides out to the wilds of the English countryside to honor a marriage of convenience with a mysterious and reclusive stranger.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTall, dark, and dour, the notorious Captain Jasper Blunt was once hailed a military hero, but tales abound of his bastard children and his haunted estate in Yorkshire. What he requires now is a rich wife to ornament his isolated ruin, and he has his sights set on the enchanting Julia Wychwood.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eFor Julia, an incurable romantic cursed with a crippling social anxiety, navigating a London ballroom is absolute torture. The only time Julia feels any degree of confidence is when she’s on her horse. Unfortunately, a young lady can’t spend the whole of her life in the saddle, so Julia makes an impetuous decision to take her future by the reins—she proposes to Captain Blunt.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eIn exchange for her dowry and her hand, Jasper must promise to grant her freedom to do as she pleases. To ride—and to read—as much as she likes without masculine interference. He readily agrees to her conditions, with one provision of his own: Julia is forbidden from going into the tower rooms of his estate and snooping around his affairs. But the more she learns of the beastly former hero, the more intrigued she becomes…“Mimi Matthews never disappoints, with richly drawn characters and couples whose individual shortcomings become strengths, when paired together. In this \u003ci\u003eBeauty and the Beast\u003c\/i\u003e retelling, we get to root for two underdogs who get to rewrite their own stories.”—Jodi Picoult, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eWish You Were Here\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Shiveringly Gothic…Watching Julia blossom away from prying eyes is almost as satisfying as seeing Jasper Blunt pine for her from nearly the first page…For best effect, save this one for a windy night when trees scrape against the windowpanes.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"The Belle of Belgrave Square \u003c\/i\u003eis such tremendous good fun: a heroine with a big horse, an even bigger novel-reading habit, and a hidden anxiety; a hero with a crumbling estate, a trio of wary children, and a literary secret—what's not to love? Mimi Matthews paints Victorian England with vivid humor, and her Belles of London is set to go on for at least a few more much-anticipated installments. Julian Fellowes fans will rejoice!\"—Kate Quinn, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Diamond Eye\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Mimi Matthews just doesn’t miss. \u003ci\u003eThe Belle of Belgrave Square\u003c\/i\u003e is exquisite; a romance that delivers the perfect balance of passion, tension, and tender moments.”—Evie Dunmore, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"This story unfolds like a rose blooming, growing more and more beautiful as each delicate layer is revealed. A tender, luminous romance. I loved it more and more with every chapter!\"—Caroline Linden, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Absolutely enthralling: an endearing, novel-reading heroine who’s in dire danger; a swoon-worthy war hero with a scandalous past; and secrets, lots of secrets. Mimi Matthews’s \u003ci\u003eThe Belle of Belgrave Square \u003c\/i\u003eis a thrilling, emotion-packed read from start to finish. I loved it!”—Syrie James, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"[C]ombines deception, risk, and a resourceful heroine to create an intoxicating, suspenseful romance. Highly recommended.\"—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A grand cross-class romance, a twisty mystery, and emotional internal struggles combine to excellent effect…fans and new readers alike will root for this well-earned love story.” \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Siren of Sussex\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A rare treat to enjoy and savor. Highly recommended!”—Kate Pearce, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Unflinching, tender, and moving, the delicately crafted \u003ci\u003eThe Siren of Sussex\u003c\/i\u003e might just be my favourite work from Mimi Matthews; it certainly is one of my favourite historical romance reads this year.\"—Evie Dunmore, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003ePortrait of a Scotsman\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Lush, seductive, original—\u003ci\u003eThe Siren of Sussex\u003c\/i\u003e drew me in from the first page, and wove its magic. A fresh, vibrant, brilliant Victorian romance, making it an unforgettable read.”—Jane Porter, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A moving love story and a vivid recreation of Victorian life, \u003ci\u003eThe Siren of Sussex\u003c\/i\u003e by Mimi Matthews is a treat of a book for the historical romance lover.”—Anna Campbell, award-winning author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Impeccably researched, brimming with passion and chemistry, and a loving tribute to Victorian fashion and horsemanship, \u003ci\u003eThe Siren of Sussex\u003c\/i\u003e is a page-turning, powerful, and endearing love story about two people rising above the pressures of society to follow their hearts. A five-star fantastic read!”—Syrie James, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author \u003cb\u003eMimi Matthews\u003c\/b\u003e writes both historical nonfiction and award-winning Victorian romances. Her novels have received starred reviews in \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e Booklist\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e Kirkus\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003c\/i\u003e, and her articles have been featured on the Victorian Web, the \u003ci\u003eJournal of Victorian Culture\u003c\/i\u003e, and in syndication at \u003ci\u003eBUST Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, a miniature poodle, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats.One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLondon, England\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJune 1862\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulia Wychwood was alone in Rotten Row, and that was exactly the way she liked it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWell, not quite alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was her groom, Luke Six. And there were some humbly clad men and women tarrying along the viewing rail. But otherwise . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYes. Alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was often the case at this time of morning-those early moments after break of dawn, when the air was misty cool and the rising sun was shining brightly to burn away the fog. Some ladies and gentlemen chose to ride at this time of day, but not many. Certainly not as many as during the fashionable hour. Then, all of society was out in force.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhich was precisely why Julia preferred riding in the morning. There were fewer stares and whispers. Less judgment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith a squeeze of her leg, she urged Cossack into a canter. It was the big ebony gelding's best gait-a steady, even stride, with a sway to it like a rocking chair. She relaxed into it. When cantering, Cossack required nothing more of her than that she maintain a light contact on the double reins. He did the rest, which left her ample time to daydream.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr to fret.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe wasn't only alone in Rotten Row. She was alone in London. Her three best friends were all out of town, with two of them not set to return until Sunday. That left four days for her to get through on her own. Four excruciating days, and on every one of them, an equally excruciating society event.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulia considered taking to her bed. She'd done it before to get out of attending a ball or a dinner. But she'd never done it for more than two days at a time. Even then, her parents insisted on summoning Dr. Cordingley-an odious man who always came with his lancet and bleeding bowl in hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe shuddered to think of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo. Faking an illness wouldn't work this time. Maybe for one day, but not for all of them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSomehow, she was going to have to get through it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCossack tossed his head at something in the distance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulia's gloved hands tightened reflexively on the reins. She squinted down the length of the Row at the rider coming toward them. \"Easy,\" she murmured to Cossack. \"It's just another horse.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn enormous horse. Bigger and blacker than Cossack himself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut it wasn't the horse that made Julia tense in her sidesaddle. It was the gentleman astride him: a stern-faced, battle-scarred ex-military man.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaptain Blunt, the Hero of the Crimea.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer mouth went dry as he approached. She was half-tempted to bolt. But there was no escaping him. She brought Cossack down to a trot and then to a walk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe'd met the captain once before. It had been at Lady Arundell's spring ball. Viscount Ridgeway, a mutual acquaintance of theirs, had introduced him to Julia as a worthy partner. In other circumstances, the interaction might have been the veriest commonplace-a few polite words exchanged and a turn about the polished wood dance floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInstead, Julia had gawped at Captain Blunt like a stricken nitwit. Her breath had stopped and her pulse had roared in her ears. Afraid she might faint, she'd fled the ballroom before the introduction had been completed, leaving Captain Blunt standing there, his granite-hewn features frozen in a mask of displeasure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt had been one of the most mortifying experiences of Julia's life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd that was saying something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor a lady prone to panicking in company, mortifications were a daily occurrence. At the advanced age of two-and-twenty, she'd nearly grown accustomed to them. But even for her, the incident at Lady Arundell's ball had marked a new low.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo doubt Captain Blunt thought her actions had had something to do with his appearance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was powerfully made. Tall, strong, and impossibly broad shouldered. Already a physically intimidating gentleman, he was made even more so by the scar on his face. The deep, gruesome slash bisected his right eyebrow and ran all the way down to his mouth, notching into the flesh of his lip. It gave the impression of a permanent sneer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRather ironic that he was hailed as a hero. In looks, there seemed nothing heroic about him. Indeed, he appeared in every way a villain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Miss Wychwood.\" He removed his beaver hat, inclining his head in a bow. His hair was a lustrous raven black. Cut short to his collar, it was complemented by a pair of similarly short sideburns edging the harsh lines of his jaw. \"Good morning.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe scarcely dared look him in the face. \"Good morning.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe didn't reply. Not immediately. He was studying her. She could feel the weight of his stare. It set off a storm of butterflies in her stomach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRide on, she wanted to say. Please, ride on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe didn't ride on. He seemed intent on making her squirm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe suspected she knew why. She'd never apologized to him for her behavior at the ball. There'd been no opportunity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePerhaps he wanted her to suffer for embarrassing him?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf that was the case, Julia was resigned to take her medicine. Heaven knew she deserved it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe forced herself to meet his gaze. The butterflies in her stomach threatened to revolt. Goodness. His eyes were the color of hoarfrost-a gray so cold and stark it sent an icy shiver tracing down the curve of her spine. Every feminine instinct within her rose up in warning. Run, it said. Flee.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut this wasn't Lady Arundell's ballroom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis was Hyde Park. Here in the open air, mounted on Cossack, she wasn't the same person she was at a ball or a dinner dance. For one thing, she wasn't alone. She had a partner-and an imposing one, at that. Cossack lent her his strength and his stature. Made her feel nearly as formidable as he was. It's why she was more confident on horseback.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt least, she'd always been so before.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"How do you do?\" she asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Very well.\" His voice was deep and commanding, with a growl at the edge of it. A soldier's voice. The kind that, when necessary, could be heard across a battlefield. \"And yourself?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'm enjoying our spell of fine weather,\" she said. \"It's excellent for riding.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe flicked a glance over her habit. Made of faded black wool, it did nothing to emphasize the contours of her figure. Rather the opposite. It obscured her shape, much as the net veil on her short-brimmed riding hat obscured her face. His black brows notched into a frown.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe suppressed a flicker of self-consciousness. Her clothing wasn't meant to attract attention. It was meant to render her invisible. But it hadn't-not to him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe way he looked at her . . . Hades might have regarded Persephone thus before dragging her down to hell to be his unwilling bride.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd everyone knew Captain Blunt was looking for a wife.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf one believed the prevailing rumors, it was the sole reason he'd come to town. He was on the hunt for a vulnerable heiress he could spirit back to his isolated Yorkshire estate. An estate that was said to be haunted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You ride often at this time of day?\" he asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Whenever I can,\" she said. \"Cossack is glad for the exercise.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You handle him well.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSome of the tightness in her chest eased at the compliment. \"It's not difficult.\" She stroked Cossack's neck. \"He may look imposing, but he's a lamb underneath. The biggest creatures often are in my experience.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCaptain Blunt's own mount stamped his gigantic hooves as if in objection to her statement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe gave the great beast an interested look. He was built like a medieval warhorse, with a broad chest, heavy fetlocks, and a thickly waving mane and tail. \"What do you call him?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Quintus.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And is he-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A brute through and through,\" Captain Blunt said. \"Sometimes, Miss Wychwood, what you see is precisely what you get.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulia wondered if that was true in the captain's own case. Could he really be as menacing as he appeared? She didn't know to a certainty. All she knew was that, according to society gossip, he was positively dangerous-especially to marriageable young ladies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt didn't excuse how she'd behaved toward him at the ball.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe moistened her lips. \"I believe I owe you an apology.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe looked steadily back at her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"When Lord Ridgeway was introducing you to me at Lady Arundell's ball . . .\" She faltered. \"Perhaps you don't remember-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I remember,\" he said gruffly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHeat rose in her cheeks. \"Yes, well . . . I'm sorry to have run off like that. I'm afraid I'm not at my best when meeting strangers.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you often run off during introductions?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not generally, no. Not unless I fear I'm going to swoon.\" Her mouth ticked up at one corner in a rueful smile. \"You wouldn't have appreciated having to catch me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSomething flickered behind his icy gaze. An emotion impossible to read. \"You don't know me very well, ma'am.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWere it any other gentleman, Julia might have suspected him of flirting with her. But not Captain Blunt. His scarred countenance was as coldly serious as his tone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer smile faded. \"No, indeed.\" She tightened her fingers on the reins. \"But I apologize all the same.\" She dipped her head to him as she urged Cossack on in the opposite direction. \"Good day, Captain Blunt.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe didn't return her farewell. He didn't say anything. He only sat there atop his horse, watching her ride away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJulia felt the burning impression of his stare at her back. And this time, she didn't will herself to be brave. She did what she'd wanted to do since she'd first laid eyes on him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe pressed her heel into Cossack's side and she fled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJasper was tempted to ride after her, no matter that sheÕd just dismissed him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut no.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe held Quintus to a standstill as Miss Wychwood rode away. She kept to a walk for several strides before kicking her horse into a lofty, ground-covering canter. Her seat was impeccable, her gloved hands light on her reins. She had a reputation for being a good rider. And she must be one to handle a horse so obviously too big for her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGood God. She couldn't be more than five feet and three inches in height. A petite lady, with a gentle way about her. Had she no one to choose her a more suitable mount?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJasper suspected not.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer parents were well-known invalids, prone to all manner of fancies. Their elegant town house in Belgrave Square played host to an endless stream of doctors, chemists, and an ever-changing roster of servants.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven Miss Wychwood's groom was of a recent vintage-a different fellow from the one who had accompanied her three days ago. He cantered a length behind her, the pair of them disappearing into the distance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJasper's frown deepened.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe'd learned many things about Miss Wychwood in the past several weeks, enough to know that marrying her and whisking her away to Yorkshire was going to be anything but simple.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDamn Viscount Ridgeway for suggesting it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExiting the park, Jasper returned to Ridgeway's house in Half Moon Street. It was a fashionable address, if not an ostentatious one, tucked between the house of a rich old widow on one side and that of a well-to-do solicitor on the other. After settling Quintus in the stable with his groom, Jasper made his way up the front steps to the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRidgeway's grizzled butler, Skipforth, admitted him into the black-and-white-tiled hall. \"His lordship has requested your presence in his chamber,\" he said as he took Jasper's hat and gloves. \"He's breakfasting there.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOf course he was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRidgeway rarely emerged from his room before ten, and then only on sufferance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJasper felt a flare of irritation. Not for the first time, he regretted accepting Ridgeway's invitation to stay.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Shall I take you to him, sir?\" Skipforth asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No need.\" Jasper bounded up the curving staircase to the third floor. He rapped once on Ridgeway's door before entering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe heavy draperies were drawn back from the windows. Sunlight streamed through the glass, revealing an expansive bedchamber decorated in shades of rich crimson and gold. On the far side of it, opposite his unmade four-poster bed and the silver tea tray containing the remains of his breakfast, sat Nathan Grainger, Viscount Ridgeway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was sprawled in a wooden chair in front of his inlaid mahogany dressing table, eyes closed as his valet trimmed his side-whiskers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That you, Blunt?\" He squinted open one eye. \"Back so soon?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"As you see. Skipforth said you had need of me?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So I do. And excellent timing, too. Fennel's just finished shearing me.\" Ridgeway dismissed his valet with a wave of his hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFennel, a weedy man with a shifty expression, promptly withdrew into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him with a click.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I require your opinion on a horse I've been eyeing at Tattersalls,\" Ridgeway said. \"Unless you have other plans today?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Nothing that can't be changed. When are you leaving?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Presently.\" Ridgeway sat forward in his chair, examining his freshly trimmed side-whiskers in the glass. \"What do you think?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJasper could detect no difference from the way Ridgeway usually looked. \"I suppose they're shorter.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I despaired of them growing too full. A man wants to appear dignified, but after all, one doesn't wish to look like the prime minister.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No chance of that.\" Jasper crossed the floor to take a seat in a velvet-upholstered wing chair near the fire.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRidgeway kept only enough servants to support a bachelor establishment. His house was, nevertheless, comfortable and well tended-a definite improvement from the hotel Jasper had been staying at when he'd first arrived in town.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot that he'd had much choice in lodgings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe had no family in London to impose upon. No real friends on whom he could inflict his company.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven his connection with Ridgeway was tenuous at best.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey'd met six years ago in Constantinople-both men at their lowest ebb. Ridgeway had come to Scutari Hospital to collect the body of his younger brother, killed in the skirmish that had taken the lives of the rest of Jasper's men.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJasper had been at Scutari, too; not on an errand, but as a gravely injured patient-the sole survivor of the skirmish, rendered all but unrecognizable by the severe wounds on his face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRidgeway had spoken to him, attempting to rally his spirits. A futile task. Jasper had been in no mood to speak to anyone. But later, upon his release from hospital, when Ridgeway had written to him, Jasper had grudgingly replied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn occasional correspondence had followed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt wasn't a friendship. Not anywhere near it. Jasper hadn't any friends. And unless he was mistaken, neither had Ridgeway. They were merely two men brought together by circumstance. Cordial acquaintances-and sometimes, not even that.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302592729317,"sku":"NP9780593337158","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593337158.jpg?v=1767738311","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-belle-of-belgrave-square-isbn-9780593337158","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}