Chapter One

1814

Outskirts of Buckinghamshire

How a simple thing like a piece of paper, a letter, could bring such happiness.

Rain lashed the small window of Hester Haddington’s room. Outside, the sky was leaden with the promise of unending downpours. But as she read on, the sun shone in her heart.

She sat in the window seat, its upholstery faded and split. The window did not fit its casement properly and admitted a chill breeze. But Hester liked to sit there, regardless of the draught. She liked to look out at the world beyond Goddington Hall. The distant woods beyond the park and the town of Buckinghamshire visible on the horizon, its peaceful spires of chimney smoke mimicking the slender grace of the church steeple at the heart of the town.

That world was largely unknown to her.

Since the death of her parents ten years before, she had seen little of it. Goddington, the home of her aunt and uncle, had become her home and her prison.

She flicked her long, golden hair back and absently rubbed at the small white scar that marred the porcelain skin of her right shoulder. Sometimes she fancied she could still feel the stab of pain made by the willow switch that had caused it, wielded by Aunt Phoebe. She began to re-read the letter that had been smuggled to her by Cousin Selina, her only ally at Goddington. The words set a warm glow within her.

               My dearest Hester, 

I hope this letter finds you well. Words on paper are such a poor substitute for the sight of you, for holding your hand in mine, for holding your body close to me. I still think of that night at your debut when we danced. Then when we walked the halls of Goddington together and I had my first taste of what it must be like for you to be mine, to be shared with no-one else. The letters we have exchanged since that night have sustained me for a time, have made me feel close to you. But they are a poor substitute. Under normal circumstances, I should call on you at Goddington, we would take walks in the park, perhaps chaperoned by your cousin. I yearn for it but know that it is impossible. I should like to call out your uncle for holding you a prisoner, making you into a slave. I want to take you away from them. I cannot marry you without the permission of your uncle, as your legal guardian, as you are not yet one and twenty years old. But, we can run away together. I know that what I am suggesting is scandalous but it will enable us to be together and married in Gretna. I hope that I have not misjudged your heart. Based on your letters to me, I do not believe so.

If you are agreeable, then meet me at noon five days from the date of this letter. I shall meet you with my carriage. The location shall be the crossroads to the west of the Tingewick Woods outside the village of Barton Hartshorn. It is but six miles from Goddington. I trust this will not be too far for you to walk. I would suggest a closer location but fear that you may be seen by your uncle or one of his men. If another location is preferable, then write to me at once. If I do not hear from you, then I will be waiting at the crossroads at noon.

               Your ever loving

              Arthur

There was a gentle tap at her door. Hester knew that she didn’t need to conceal the letter because only Selina would knock so diffidently.

“Come in, Selina!” she called.

The door opened and a slender girl of sixteen entered the room. Her hair was fiery red, the color of which she inherited from her father. She smiled hesitantly, then broader when she saw Hester’s face. Hurriedly, she closed the door and ran to her cousin. Hester hugged her and made room for her on the window seat.

“I trust your lover has good things to say?” Selina whispered excitedly.

“He does. As always. In fact…”

Hester hesitated, unsure if she should disclose all to Selina. It was not that she did not trust the girl, but that it might put her into a difficult position when Selina’s father, Baron Goddington, eventually found out.

“In fact?” Selina coaxed, seizing Hester’s hand.

Her blue eyes were bright with excitement and Hester knew that she could not keep this a secret.

She did not want to.

Speaking the words aloud would make them somehow more real than being written on a page.

“He wishes to marry me!” Hester exclaimed.

Suddenly, tears filled her eyes. They were tears of happiness. Selina hugged her again, her own eyes wet.

“Oh, cousin! That is so wonderful. I am so happy for you! Will Papa give his blessing, do you think? Do you wish me to speak to him?”

Hester shook her head hastily. “He would not. I am sure of it.”

That darkened Selina’s expression. She knew the cruelty that her father and mother were capable of, though it was rarely directed at her. But she didn’t like to be reminded of it, or how helpless she was to prevent it.

“Then how will you marry him? Unless…”

Hester was mildly shocked that her innocent cousin had realized what Arthur and Hester were planning. If permission to marry was withheld, then there was only one option remaining.

“We will elope,” Hester whispered.

A thrill ran through her at the very idea. Selina’s eyes went almost comically wide, as did her mouth. Hester laughed.

“It is the only way I fear. We will be married over the blacksmith’s anvil at Gretna Green and once that is done, Uncle Timothy will be able to do nothing about it. Other than accept me as Mrs. Arthur Binkley.”

“Oh my, Hester! What a scandal you will cause!” Selina exclaimed.

But there was a smile on her face as she did so. The idea of a scandal to her was one of excitement and drama. It was something that did not often reach into the parochial Buckinghamshire world of Goddington. She associated scandal with cities such as London, where all manner of sin was perpetrated.

“How may I help? We could pretend to Papa to be taking the trap into town and instead meet your beau! Where are you to meet him?”

Hester shook her head emphatically. “We shall do nothing of the sort. That would implicate you and I will not have that.”

Selina opened her mouth to protest but Hester put a hand to her cousin’s lips. “No, Selina. Absolutely not. Remember what I said to you all those years ago when first I arrived here? I was ten years of age and you were but seven?”

“You said that we must keep our friendship a secret. That Mama and Papa dislike you and would take pains to keep us apart if they suspected that I did not share their opinion,” Selina said sullenly, “it is simply so unjust! I must smuggle your letters in and out of this house because of my beastly mother and father. I wish to tell them to their faces that treating their niece like a servant is wrong!”

“But your father is master of this house and neither of us has the power to challenge him. But, when I am wife to Sir Arthur Binkley of Marsh Gibbon, there will be no more mistreatment. Then we can be friends openly. I merely need you to be patient for just a few days longer. Maintain the facade that we are enemies since childhood.”

Selina put her head on her older cousin’s shoulder and Hester put her arms around her.

“It is so beastly,” Selina complained.

“But almost over,” Hester soothed.

So many times, growing up at Goddington Hall, Hester had soothed the younger girl after suffering the cruelty of Timothy and his wife Phoebe. She didn’t understand its source. She had not asked to be their ward. That had been forced on them after the death of her parents from influenza. Timothy and Phoebe Haskett had resented her from the start, placing her in the smallest room of their Buckinghamshire home and making her carry out chores in place of a servant. The only concession she had been given was a debut at the age of eighteen. But that was for appearance’s sake only. They had no intention of letting her take her place in county society or the London ton, both of which they were active members of. It did not help that her father had been practically bankrupt when he died. What little inheritance was left had to be given over in death duties, leaving Hester beholden to her wealthy aunt and uncle.

Until now.

“All will be well,” she murmured, “the sun is breaking through the clouds at last, and life will be warm and sunny from today forth. You’ll see.”

***

Hester huddled within the shelter of a beech tree, an outlier of Tingewick Wood. It stood near the crossroads which signposted Preston Bassett to the south-east, Barton Hartshorn to the south-west, Tingewick to the north-east and Finmere to the north-west. It was the furthest she had ever been from Goddington Hall. It had been a wet and blustery walk which had taken her the better part of three hours. Fortunately, Goddington Hall was situated on hills above the village of Barton-Hartshorn, so it had been a downhill walk all the way, following the Padbury stream as it meandered along the valley. The Buckingham road was relatively straight and well maintained or her journey might have taken all day, had she been forced to fight through mud and waterlogged lanes. As it was, her dress was spattered and her cloak sodden. Her face was wet and cold, and she suspected bearing one or two drops of mud from the road also.

But none of it mattered. Arthur was on his way and soon she would be safe and warm in his arms. The branches above her swayed, the leaves making a hushed roar in the wind. She moved closer to the fissured trunk as rain was gusted under the protective canopy in a frigid spray. It must be nearly noon, she had timed her walk most carefully. The sun was obscured by a blanket of clouds but she could not be too far from the allotted time.

She waited.

And waited.

The rain ceased and the wind began to tear the cloud cover to tatters. It was with a small shock that she noted how far the sun had fallen from its noon zenith.

It must be between two and three o’clock by now! Where could Arthur be? Has he had an accident?

At that moment, as worry was knotting her insides, she saw a carriage pulled by a team of four horses, making its way out of the Tingewick Woods. Hope flared within her and she stepped away from the tree to the roadside. It was a fine coach, colored black and silver and driven by a man in the uniform of a footman. He slowed his team and brought the coach to a halt beside her. Hester looked up at the driver hopefully.

“Would you be driving Sir Arthur Binkley by any chance?” she asked.

The driver touched the brim of his hat to her. “I’m afraid not, Miss Haddington. His Grace, the Duke of Middleton, is within, and requests your audience.”

Chapter Two

Hester drew back a step as the driver leaned down from his seat to open the door. Within the coach, she saw an elderly man lean forward and recognized him immediately.

Percival Fairchild, Duke of Middleton was a distinctive figure.

In his late middle years, his long face was that of a kindly grandfather. His smile caused wrinkles to appear around his eyes and seemed kind. She remembered being introduced to him at her debut ball.

Reassured that it was, in fact, him, she stepped forward and accepted the hand of the driver to ascend to the interior of the coach. She saw that his left leg rested on the seat opposite him and was swathed in bandages. He saw the direction of her gaze and smiled sadly.

“Alas, a touch of gout. The bane of my family. My doctor says I must forgo port, rich sauce, and cigars. I say that life without such things is scarcely worth living,” then he fixed her with a direct stare, “and what brings you to this desolate spot, my dear?”

At first, Hester was unsure how much she should reveal. Would the Duke feel inclined to report back to her uncle if he heard something he did not like? Yet, at the same time, he may be able to help her find Arthur, and that was a risk she needed to take. Waiting any longer would undoubtedly alert her relatives of her absence. “I… I had arranged to meet a gentleman here,” Hester replied with a waver.

“Yes, I know. Sir Arthur Binkley of Marsh Gibbon, was it not?” Middleton replied gently.

“Why, yes! But how could you know that?” Hester asked, narrowing her gaze.

“Because I am acquainted with Sir Arthur. I consider myself fortunate to count him as a friend. Now, my dear, this is not going to be easy for you to hear but hear it you must.”

Hester swallowed, suddenly feeling as though the rug were being pulled from beneath her feet and she was falling. Despite that, she lifted her chin and firmed her mouth, resolved to face whatever fate was about to deal for her.

“Sir Arthur came to me about four days ago in a terrible state of remorse. He told me that he had indulged his emotions for a young lady of great beauty, intelligence, and sophistication, and entered into correspondence with her after a meeting at Goddington. That young lady was, of course, yourself.”

Hester found herself smiling at the description. Middleton raised a finger as though to forestall her initial feelings.

“But, he is already engaged to be married.”

The words fell from his lips like lead weights to thud against the floor. Hester felt her heart join those heavy words. She clutched her hands to her stomach. When she realized that she was sitting with her mouth open, she closed it hurriedly. She would not appear in such distress in front of a man who was almost a perfect stranger.

“Arthur is already engaged to be married,” she repeated.

“An arranged marriage and not one of the heart, I must add,” Middleton continued agonizingly slowly, “but an engagement that he cannot break. Because he does not wish to marry the lady he is engaged to, he committed the sin of indulging his daydreams with you. Of allowing himself to believe that he could have true love and a happy ever after. But, alas, when the time came, he knew that he could not do it. And he asked me how he should proceed, not wishing to hurt you further and not able to renege on the commitment he has already entered into, personally.”

Hester blinked away the first treacherous tears, turning her head so that Middleton would not see. But, it seems, he missed nothing.

“Now, now. Here, take my handkerchief,” he offered her a square of white linen embroidered with his coat of arms in the corners, “all is not lost. The reason I am here to deliver this upsetting news is that I have a proposition for you. It is highly unusual but one which would mean that you do not have to suffer the indignity of returning to the home of your aunt and uncle. A home in which I believe you are not at all happy.”

Hester looked back at him. “How, pray tell, do you know of my life at Goddington?”

“From Sir Arthur,” Middleton said kindly, “he was most insistent that I help you if I can. And, I believe that I can.”

“How?” Hester’s voice almost broke.

“Before I begin, please may I ask that you hear my entire story to the end. Listen to my proposal and give it serious thought. You will wish to dismiss it out of hand but I ask that you promise to listen first, then decide.”

This was most perplexing.

Hester frowned, wiped her eyes and nodded, seeing no harm in listening to the mysterious proposal.

“I have a son. My only son, Dorian. He is Marquis of Langley which lies to the west of here near Cottington in Oxfordshire. He was married to a beautiful young woman named Sophia Bennett. The Kent Bennetts, are you familiar with the family?”

Hester shook her head.

“Well, my dear. You bear a striking resemblance to Sophia, who, sadly, is no longer with us. She passed away from the influenza after being married for less than a year. I understand that your parents were taken by the same illness?”

Hester nodded. It made her feel an affinity for Middleton and her son, knowing that they had lost a loved one in the same way that she had lost her parents.

“Dorian suffered greatly from her loss. It led him to purchase a commission in the Buckinghamshire Rifle Regiment and go to war in Spain, fighting the French. There, he suffered a terrible injury, and he spent many months recuperating at a monastery near Ciudad Rodrigo, in the west of Spain. I believed, as did the army, that he had been killed in battle. For a year, I believed that I had lost my only son.”

At this, the kindly old man seemed to struggle with his own equilibrium. He put the knuckles of one hand to his mouth and turned to look out of the coach’s window for a long moment.

Presently, he spoke again.

“Oh dear, where was I? Ah, yes, I remember. Dorian was found by a British Catholic priest visiting the monastery and the church arranged for his return to me. We are and always have been one of England’s most prominent Catholic families and, I am proud to say, openly Catholic. However, I digress. I thanked God for Dorian’s return, but he… came back to me a very changed man. He had lost his memory of everything that had happened from the point of Sophia’s death. He did not remember joining the army or fighting. Crucially, he did not remember losing Sophia. I have for many months now pondered how to break the news to him. You see, he believes her to be still alive. I fear that his fragile mind will be utterly destroyed if he ever learns of the truth. Do you perhaps begin to see why I am so keen to meet you?”

Hester remembered his comment about her resemblance to Sophia and had jumped to a conclusion, but it seemed too ridiculous, too far-fetched to be real.

“You are surely not saying…” she began.

“That I wish you to impersonate Sophia. Yes, that is precisely what I ask of you,” Middleton intoned solemnly.

“But, Your Grace, that is… why it’s…”

“Ridiculous? Farcical? Mad? I agree. It is all of those things, but a father once bereaved will resort to the ridiculous, farcical, and mad, to save the life of his child once again.”

“I cannot spend the rest of my life pretending to be Sophia Bennett!” Hester exclaimed, “Not least because the Bennett family themselves would surely get wind of it. They too have lost a child. It would seem a ghastly, macabre joke to them that the Fairchilds are pretending that she is still alive. I am sorry, Your Grace, to be so blunt, but I cannot see how it could work.”

“Do not mistake me, Miss Haddington. I do not propose this as a long-term role. Merely until his mind has healed enough that his true memories return. His doctor says that this will happen over time but only if he is given a peaceful, calm, and safe place in which to recover. I can think of no place more peaceful and safe than his home with his wife. Now, as the healing takes place, you and I will need to be in close contact to discuss how we gradually remove you from your role, how we re-introduce Dorian to the truth. But, that is a conversation for a few weeks’ time. In the immediate, my concern is for my son’s recovery. I cannot break his heart by telling him the truth. I beg you, Miss Haddington. Do this for me. For us.”

He squeezed her hand and water was eked out of the fabric to drip onto her skirts. Hester didn’t notice. She looked into his imploring eyes, seeing all the pain of a desperate father. But one who has had his prayers answered once, had his son delivered to him from the dead.

“In return, I am prepared to offer you a new life.”

“That is very generous, Your Grace. But my life is dependent on my aunt and uncle. There was nothing left of my father’s estates and when I am once more Hester Haddington instead of Sophia Bennett, I will have nothing to my name once more. Except, I will have earned the eternal enmity of the Hasketts for running away. I will have nothing.”

“Why, you will have your father’s fortune, of course, Miss Haddington. I do not know why you believe there was nothing left. I must assume this is yet another aspect of the Haskett’s villainy. The fortune of the Earl of Audley was renowned and cannot have been consumed by death duties. Nor can such a fortune have been consumed by the avarice of your father’s sister and her husband. It surely exists, and I will use my considerable influence, wealth, and standing in court to ensure that you receive it. Then you will be free.”

Hester found herself gaping once again, but this time could not stop herself. Her world had shifted, turned on its head. First, Arthur, and now her entire concept of her circumstances. Her aunt and uncle had lied to her for all these years. Keeping her inheritance from her while they enjoyed the fruits of it. Astonishment turned to anger and resolve.

“Very well, Your Grace. I accept.”

Chapter Three

Oxfordshire

The countryside of Oxfordshire was much like that of Buckinghamshire. Hester knew it must be so, but as she had never, in her memory, been much beyond Goddington or her family home at Audley, she could not be certain.

The coach rode smoothly along a road that wound between fields and meadows with the rising sun behind them. Villages appeared and disappeared, the road they followed running by them but not through them. Off to the left, she could see a large line of hills, dark against the pale morning sky.

“Langley Grange is there, right at the foot of Langley Peak, that’s the hill you can see,” Middleton pointed out.

He was sitting next to her and they had spent the journey thus far with one last rehearsal of Hester’s story. It was the story that Dorian had been told and that she would reinforce. Her grandmother, Lady Cynthia Purcell from York, had fallen ill and Hester, or rather Sophia, had been obliged to take care of her. The old lady had sadly passed away. This would explain any odd behavior from Hester, the vagaries of grief. Hester had spent the last three days learning about Sophia Bennett and her marriage to Dorian Fairchild. Her interests and passions, her accomplishments, and foibles. She could recount the occasion of Sophia’s first meeting with Dorian and the key moments of their story, at least those that Middleton was aware of.

Presently, Hester was a tumult of emotions.

Excitement was chief among them at the moment, but trepidation was not far behind. Anger ran through it all like the streaks of color in marble. Anger at the Haskett’s who had treated her like a servant and lied to her. Anger towards Arthur, but only to a degree. He had allowed himself to speak of love and elopement while knowing that he could not carry through his promises. She could not paint him a liar though, merely a man whose head and heart were at war. It did cut her deeply that his feelings for her had not been strong enough to win through against what his head told him to do. She thought herself a fool for believing him and a fool for agreeing to this escapade. It was so patently ludicrous that it could not possibly work. Nor could she promise herself that she would be able to continue with it. The idea of deliberately lying to an innocent person, and such a monstrous lie at that, for weeks on end was unthinkable to her.

“Remember, this is all for Dorian’s own good. And, selfishly, for me. So that I do not risk losing my only son a second time,” Middleton had told her on more than one occasion.

Hester clung to that and told herself that the only alternative was to return to Goddington and face punishment. In all likelihood, a lifetime of punishment. There was no alternative.

A dark speck against the looming Langley Peak began to grow larger. They had turned from the west and were heading more towards the south, but angling towards the great peak. Hester could see that it rose from a chain of hills that ran more or less north to south. Another series of rolling downs reached towards that line of high ground from the east, meeting it at right angles. In the gap between these ranges was the dark speck that soon became a mass and then a crenelated shape of stone and mortar.

Langley Grange.

The house was of dark stone, giving the appearance of an antique structure and bearing none of the hallmarks of modern, fashionable design. It was square and rose to three stories in height. Its front door was housed in a huge, stone arch, appearing distinctly medieval. A forest of chimneys rose from a multitude of rooftops that rose at all angles from the simple structure.

The road passed between an ornamental gate, entwined with ivy, and standing open with the air of not having been closed for years. Gateposts were almost swamped by ivy too. Aspen and alder stood dotted around the long grass of the park, pioneers of the woodland that loomed behind the house and reached out as though to embrace it.

“It has been somewhat neglected of late,” Middleton observed with a distinctive blush, “there has been a high turnover of staff due to my son’s condition. Initially, it made him somewhat unpredictable. But, that has improved greatly, have no fear.”

His words degenerated into a cough, then a series of coughs until he sat back in his seat, gasping.

“Your Grace, are you quite well? You are very pale,” Hester exclaimed, her hands hovering in the air just before the elderly Duke.

Middleton nodded and forced a smile. “Age, my dear. Just age. And this damnably inclement weather. Damp air plays merry hell with the lungs. If you’ll pardon my French. At least the gout has subsided for the time being.”

The coach came to a halt before the imposing, medieval doorway. It opened, and a man strode out.

Hester found herself staring. He wore black, but so elegantly that it did not seem plain at all. A silk brocade waistcoat was accentuated by a silver watch chain, while silver thread had been worked into the collar of his coat and its sleeves. A cravat of dark purple was held in place by an onyx-headed pin. His hair was long and dark, hanging from his temples to his shoulders. An aquiline nose and a sharp jawline gave him an angular and exotic face. Like that of an Italian prince. His shoulders were broad and he was tall, surpassing the height of his father. There was an air of strength about him that Hester had not encountered before, from any man. Her heart beat faster as his dark eyes fell on her. His brows were drawn down, intensifying his stare.

Time slowed as Hester’s blue eyes met his impenetrably dark stare. She felt stripped by that stare, as though he saw through her clothes to her naked skin. As though he stripped away her pretenses to see the real her beneath. The feeling was intensely exciting. She had thought, while kissing Arthur, that she knew of the excitement that a man could cause in a woman. That she had experience of it from Arthur’s embraces. But they were cold compared to the heat that she felt rise within her at her first sight of her ‘husband.’ For that is what she would now be pretending that he was to her. This enigmatic, darkly handsome giant was to be her husband. In name, if not face. But what if he wanted to make her his wife? What if he wanted to take her? The idea had her gasping, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Middleton inquired anxiously.

“Quite well,” Hester replied in a whisper.

Dorian had reached the coach and pulled open the door. With one booted foot, he released the catch that unlocked the steps. They folded to the ground and he held out a hand for Hester. She wore no gloves and felt a thrill as her skin touched his. His hands were smooth, though she could feel the lines of scars upon them. His grip was firm, making her feel that if she swooned without warning, she need not fear. He would catch her and his strength would support her without effort.

With her feet on the ground, Hester looked up at Dorian. It was as though their eyes had held each other since the first moment, without a break. This close, she could see that his eyes were the color of chocolate with hints of hazel. For a moment, he stared at her with blank incomprehension on his face.

“Dorian. I have missed you,” Hester choked out.

Hardly believing her own daring, she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek. Her head spun. He wore cologne that was spicy and musky at the same time. Its sheer maleness was overwhelming, making her think of his body, his muscle. He was an immensely physical man. She could well imagine him on the battlefield, atop a charger, holding a sword and leading men into battle.

Dorian suddenly smiled and it was like sunshine breaking through clouds. His brooding demeanor vanished as though it had not existed. The smile lit up his face. It was boyish and roguish by equal measures. Both exciting and endearing. She could not help but return it.

“My dearest wife. My Sophia! How I have missed you so!” Dorian exclaimed.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms about her waist and lifted her into the air to spin her around. Hester screamed in delight, smiling, and laughing, clutching at the bonnet she wore. It was pale blue to match her dress. She had not tied it and Dorian seized it, pulling it from her head and tossing it aside.

“My golden-haired princess!” he declared.

Putting her back on her feet, he ran the fingers of both hands through her hair, making her skin tingle in delight. Then, he kissed her on the lips. Compared to Arthur’s, Dorian’s kisses were suns compared to a candle. Hester rose on her tiptoes to press her lips tighter against his. His hands were strong, holding her against him, slipping from her hair to hold her body in a tight embrace. All the while, his lips set her entire body afire.

“Now, now, children. Remember, your old father is waiting to get indoors in front of a fire, and with a warm drop of brandy. Save such behavior for when you have retired to your bedchambers,” Middleton exclaimed.

The kiss ended, though Hester remained poised on tiptoes, eyes closed. Finally, she opened them and found herself staring into Dorian’s eyes.

“Welcome home,” he whispered. Then he raised his eyes to the carriage where the footman was helping Middleton down, “Thank you for bringing her back to me, Father. And it is good to see you back on your feet.”

“Just in time to partake of your excellent wine cellar,” Middleton chortled.

“Now, now, Your Grace,” Hester spoke, adopting his own colloquialism and tone, but remembering that she had been told that Sophia was also most solicitous of Middleton’s health, “that is what brought on the attack of gout in the first place. Dorian, you must make sure that your father is moderate in his habits while he is here.”

Dorian grinned. “You know him as well as I. Could anyone ever make him do something he did not wish to?”

“You will, I command it.” 

It was another aspect of Sophia’s playful and confident nature. But it was also not far from her own. She had grown fond of Middleton in the last few days and the concern she expressed for his health was genuine.

Dorian nodded gravely. “Your wish, as ever, is my command,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

Look out for its full release on Amazon on the 19th of May!