Product DescriptionA smitten woman is about to marry a dangerous man-unless Detective Hooper and his new wife, Celia, can prevent it-in this wickedly tangled holiday mystery from bestselling author Anne Perry.Detective John Hooper, William Monk’s right-hand man at the Thames River Police, is blissfully happy in his new marriage to Celia, the cousin of a victim in one of the river police’s recent murder cases. Celia wants the same happiness for her good friend Clementine, who’s just announced her engagement to Seth Marlowe, a member of her church. Christmas is nearing, and this should be extra cause for celebration, but when Marlowe begins receiving threatening letters about his first wife’s death, it becomes clear that he is far from the devout man Clementine thought he was. In his rage, Marlowe accuses Celia of sending the letters, claiming she wants to ruin his engagement to Clementine. At a loss as to how to defend herself, Celia enlists Hooper to investigate the letters’ claims, and what he finds makes her desperate to show Clementine the truth about her soon-to-be husband.But Celia herself has not always been truthful, especially not during the murder trial following her cousin’s death. How can she be believed now, when she lied on the stand? Especially when Marlowe knows that she did, and could use it against her. This Yuletide season finds love and faith put to the test-and Celia’s and Clementine’s lives on the line.About the AuthorAnne Perry is the bestselling author of seventeen previous holiday novels, as well as the William Monk series, the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt series, the Daniel Pitt series, and the new Elena Standish series. She has also written five World War I novels and a work of historical fiction, The Sheen on the Silk. Anne Perry lives in Los Angeles.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Celia approached the vicar, who stood alone for a few moments in the shadow of the rounded arch above the doorway, sheltered from the rising wind. She wanted to say something about the excellence of his sermon beyond the usual “well done,” which covered anything and nothing.“That really was beautiful. You made me hear it again as good news,” she said with a smile. “I know the message is familiar, but the weight of meaning behind it felt new. You must know that.” She knew that he did not.As always at church, everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, women with bonnets and touches of fur, men with hats in their hands, the wealthier of them with rich astrakhan collars to match. And, of course, gloves. Everyone wore gloves. The cold winds blowing up off the Thames seemed to go straight through the layers of even the most expensive winter clothes. But at this moment, the departing congregation were all too spellbound by the vicar to feel the cold, as was Celia.Normally, the Reverend Arthur Roberson was not a very enthusiastic speaker. He was pleasant enough to look at, mild-mannered with an abundance of gray hair, although he was little over fifty. His voice was clear and well modulated, and he could sing with power. Usually, his sermons were competent, but not much more. However, today he spoke with an unaccustomed passion. Music filled his voice and his face was alight with the strength of his emotions.“That is the message of the gospel,” he said to her. “The meaning of Christmas for all mankind, indeed for all the earth. No one is excluded, from the first year of our Lord until this year of grace 1872. And always, there is repentance for any and all sins. You cannot commit an act, entertain a thought, that God does not know.” He spread his arms wide, his eyes shining. “You cannot imagine any sin He has not already seen, and forgiven, if only you repent. From the small everyday sins of thoughtlessness, not caring about the grief of others, all the pain done by indifference,” he shook his head, “all the way to the depths of violence or depravity that lie at the edge of nightmare, it

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