The carriage came to a halt on the pristine gravel drive of Hamilton House. To Delaney Kingsley, the mansion did not look like a home. It looked like a fortress built to keep people out.
It was massive. It was built of pale stone that gleamed in the afternoon sun. It had more windows than a cathedral and columns that looked thick enough to hold up the sky. It was beautiful, imposing, and terrifying.
Delaney took a deep breath. She smoothed the skirt of her gray wool dress.
"It is just another day of business," she whispered to herself. "Let's just be successful. And the man inside will be the road to that success. The road to the remaining forty thousand pounds."
She grabbed her leather bag, lifted her chin, and stepped out of the carriage.
She climbed the wide stone steps. Before she could even lift her hand to knock, the massive double doors swung open.
