It seemed impossible to breathe while listening to that music, and yet all I was doing was breathing, quite heavily. I had never heard anything like it-it was poetry and seduction and light and shadow and every other contradiction I could think of. For one mad moment I actually thought there were more of them, an entire orchestra of violins spilling out of this one instrument. His eyes remained closed as his fingers flew over the strings, spilling forth surely more notes than were possible from a single violin. It spiraled upward, the tension growing with each repeat of the phrasing, and yet somehow it grew more abandoned, wilder with each note. It spoke, beckoning gently as it unwound, rising and tensing. It began simply, but with an arresting phrase, so simple, but eloquent as a human voice. Her eccentric relations descend en masse (and her odious Aunt Ursula clearly intends to stay until another relative expires elsewhere), and Julia is forced to drape the mirrors in crepe and herself in endless widow's black.But when swarthy, inscrutable private investigator Nicholas Brisbane tells her that her husband's death may not have been due to natural causes, Lady Julia finds herself thrust into surroundings she could never have imagined, from the elegant home of a renowned courtesan, to a volatile boxing match in a gypsy camp.As the truth begins to emerge, Julia discovers that she has much to learn about her husband, herself and the infuriating, mysterious and very attractive, Mr Brisbane.“From the first note I knew it was different from anything I had ever heard.
Once the shock has passed, however, things take rather a turn for the worse. "e London, 1886For Lady Julia Grey, her husband's sudden death at a dinner party is extremely inconvenient, not to mention an unpardonable social gaffe.
"e Let the wicked be ashamed, and let them be silent in the grave.
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