What the Duke Desires
Covent Garden, London April 1828
THERE WASN’T A single letter from Tristan in the whole lot.
As the misty morning brightened to a less gloomy gray, Lisette tossed the mail onto the desk in Dom’s study. Typical. When she’d left Paris, Tristan had promised to write her once a week. But though he’d started out well, two months had now passed without so much as a line from him.