When Emma Vane breaks into The Sentinel’s offices at midnight, pistol in hand, she has one demand: force Mr Stanton to print a retraction. It sounded simple enough at home. It doesn’t help that the man is like brandy, sharp at first, then smooth enough to make her forget he’s dangerous. No wonder he’s called the Devil of Fleet Street.

Hugh built The Sentinel on one principle: print the truth. He did not build it to be held at gunpoint by a bluestocking with a signed confession and an impossible demand. But her evidence is compelling. Almost as compelling as she is.

He’s a man she should avoid. She’s a woman he cannot dismiss. As they chase a killer through the gaslit streets of London, there’s no room for pretence. The greatest danger isn’t the villain they’re hunting. It’s wanting each other.