White Horses. Joan Wolf

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      Praise for novels by Joan Wolf

      “Romance writing at its very best.”

      —Publishers Weekly starred review

      on The Guardian

      “Joan Wolf never fails to deliver the best.”

      —Nora Roberts

      “…an intensely emotional story…”

      —Rendezvous on High Meadow

      “Wolf…leaps into the contemporary romantic

      suspense arena with this smart, compelling read.”

      —Publishers Weekly on Silverbridge

      “A quick-moving, enchanting tale…An excellent

      choice for readers who want an exciting epic.”

      —Booklist on Daughter of the Red Deer

      “Captivating…endearing…heartwarming…

      Wolf’s assured storytelling is simply the best.”

      —BookPage on Royal Bride

      “Fast paced, highly readable…”

      —Library Journal on The Gamble

      “An entertaining and thought-provoking read.”

      —Washington Post Book World

      on The Reindeer Hunters

      “Joan Wolf is absolutely wonderful.

      I’ve loved her work for years.”

      —Iris Johansen

      White Horses

      Joan Wolf

       www.mirabooks.co.uk

      This one’s for Mike.

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Chapter Thirty-Four

       Chapter Thirty-Five

       Chapter Thirty-Six

       Chapter Thirty-Seven

       Epilogue

      One

      London, February 25, 1813

      The sun was starting to shine through the fog when, dressed in civilian clothes, Colonel Leo Standish, Earl of Branford, passed through the front door of the Horse Guards building, home of the War Office. There was just the faintest trace of a limp in his walk, legacy of a wound he had taken at the siege of Burgos several months before.

      Branford entered a functional room painted in a rich, dark green, with a desk, a glass-fronted bookcase and a large table with a map spread out upon it. Two men were sitting on either side of the desk, and when the earl walked in they both rose to their feet.

      “My lord,” John Herries, commissary-in-chief of the British Army, addressed him. “Thank you for coming. I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Nathan Rothschild.”

      “No, I have not. How do you do, Mr. Rothschild?” The earl came forward with an outstretched hand. He had certainly heard of Rothschild, the London scion of the industrious financial family, whose brothers were spread throughout Europe.

      The short bald man was dressed in a flawless black coat, white necktie and buff pantaloons. He put his hand into the earl’s large grasp. “It is an honor to meet you, my lord,” he said.