QUOTE : What the devil was this story? Douglas pushed open the door to his sitting room, propped one shoulder against the window frame as he opened the plain, prudish cover, and began to read. <br /><br />By the end of the first page his eyebrows started to rise. By the end of the second, his mouth was hanging open. And when he reached the last page, he no longer cared about Spence's wager or the bounty on Lady Constance's head or what Burke was thinking to let Joan read this.<br /><br />If Madeline Wilde had written this--even if every word sprang solely out of her imagination and not from her experience--he wanted to get to know her much, much better.