For being brilliant, for being a joy to work with, and for being a true believer—and a new friend. Jen, thanks for everything. ^ Prologue ^ Knightsbridge, 1799 THEY were fighting. Her mama and papa were fighting. Tears slipped down her cheeks. Carolyn hugged her skinny knees to her chest, holding her breath, trembling and afraid. She could not understand what was happening. They never fought. But now they were shouting at one another and Carolyn could hear their every word from where she sat hunched over in her small bed. Their bedchamber was across the narrow hall; the bookshop her papa owned was downstairs. Carolyn's door was open because she didn't like the dark. But she almost wished that it were closed so she would not have to hear them. Her father was shouting. Carolyn choked on a sob. "Why won't you let me go?" Her mother was crying now.
