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  PRAISE FOR SABRINA JEFFRIES’S DUKE DYNASTY SERIES:

  “The chemistry is as intense in the bedroom as it is in the science lab in Jeffries’s intoxicating third Duke Dynasty Regency romance . . . Jeffries’s perfect blend of romance, mystery, and suspense is sure to have series readers anxious for more.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Best-selling Jeffries brilliantly launches her new Duke Dynasty series with another exemplary Regency-set historical brilliantly sourced from her seemingly endless authorial supply of fascinating characters and compelling storylines.”

  —Booklist

  “Olivia’s scientific gifts will draw in and delight fans of bluestocking romances, such as Tessa Dare’s A Week To Be Wicked. . . .”

  —Library Journal

  “The thing that makes all of Jeffries’s heroines stand out is that none of them are quiet and boring. Pretty? Often. But the women she writes are spirited, intelligent, devilish, brave, independent and politically and culturally savvy. They are true heroines; she-ros, if you will. And Olivia Norley is definitely a she-ro.”

  —Bookpage

  “A story of love and commitment, risk and vulnerability, and ultimately, the courage to trust. Its sparkling banter, unique hero and heroine, and intriguing mystery make it irresistible.”

  —Austenprose

  “I loved Olivia. She’s such a breath of fresh air, with her brilliant mind and focused determination to have a successful career in her chosen field when that was way outside the norm for women. I was in her corner, cheering her on the entire way.”

  —The Romance Dish

  “A fun and delightful tale of two society misfits finding each other. I just love Sabrina Jeffries’ spin on Regency-style, dysfunctional families.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “Sabrina Jeffries is an absolute artist with Regency romance, and I love the added dimension of crime-detection.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  KENSINGTON BOOKS BY SABRINA JEFFRIES:

  Duke Dynasty series

  Project Duchess

  The Bachelor

  Who Wants to Marry a Duke

  Undercover Duke

  Designing Debutantes series

  A Duke for Diana

  A DUKE FOR DIANA

  A Designing Debutantes Novel

  NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  SABRINA JEFFRIES

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  PRAISE FOR SABRINA JEFFRIES’S DUKE DYNASTY SERIES:

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  AN EARL FOR ELIZA

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2022 by Sabrina Jeffries

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-5378-1

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5378-1 (eBook)

  For my writer friends, Rexanne Becnel

  and the late Claudia Dain—

  thanks for teaching me everything I know about fashion

  and how to make it work

  for one’s body type or coloring.

  And thanks for the many years of fun times together.

  Prologue

  London

  Spring 1807

  Hours into London’s most poorly attended ball, not a single gentleman had asked Lady Diana Harper to dance. That didn’t surprise her. Once one became a pariah in high society, one was sentenced to holding up the wall at all social engagements. Hence the term “wallflower.” Except that she and her younger sister, Verity, were more like “wall-weeds,” to be rooted out and stomped upon.

  Still, they refused to give anyone the satisfaction of driving them home to hide. Who cared if Mama had scandalized everyone by running off with Major-General Tobias Ord? Who cared if Papa, the mighty Earl of Holtbury, was divorcing Mama for that selfsame act? It wasn’t Diana or Verity’s fault, and they refused to act as if it was. Instead, they went to every society affair they were invited to attend.

  There weren’t many.

  Fortunately, their oldest sister, Mrs. Eliza Pierce, who had already wed by the time their mother made her mad dash for freedom, hadn’t suffered quite as much. Whenever someone was cruel to Eliza, she could retreat to Mr. Pierce’s strong arms. Diana and Verity could only put a good face on matters and dare the ton to torment them for what was not their fault!

  Diana sighed. Perhaps if she said it often enough, she’d believe it. Perhaps then society might finally allow them to dance instead of forcing them to sit to the side watching their youth slip away.

  Good Lord, but she was morose tonight, and the overpowering orchestra was giving her a headache that worsened matters. At this rate, she might as well go home where she could hear herself think.

  Thank heavens the music ended with a flourish just then. Their good friend, Miss Isolde Crowder, approached them, her ash-brown curls bouncing. “I’m delighted you came. Mama wanted so badly for this to be a crush, but I knew it was unlikely.”

  Isolde and Diana were both twenty, their friendship forged when they’d embarked on their first Season together. This was their second, and, judging from how things were going, they might need a third. And a fourth and a fifth and—

  Diana didn’t want to think about that. Isolde hadn’t “taken” during their first Season, not because of scandal but because she was a Cit. Marrying a Cit, even a wealthy one, wasn’t au courant in society these days. Diana hadn’t “taken” during her own first Season because of the rumors about her parents’ flagrant infidelities.

  Then Verity had only just been presented to the queen and had her début ball before the dance floor had been knocked out from under her, too, so to speak, by Mama’s running off. At nineteen, Verity was now doomed to be an outcast in society. It simply wasn’t fair.

  Verity lifted one brow. “I’m surprised your mother even wanted us here, given our notoriety.” The hint of bitterness in her voice reminded Diana that her sister had good reason to be bitter, given that she’d lost a serious suitor because of their parents’ behavior.

  “She didn’t, but I told her I wouldn’t attend if she didn’t invite the three of you,” Isolde said hotly.

  “You’re a good friend, and we appreciate that,” Diana told Isolde. “I’m afraid everyone else thinks us as tainted by Mama’s sin as if we’d jumped into the carriage with her.”

  “I hope it’s not as bad as all that,” Isolde remarked, ever the optimist.

  Diana gave her an arch smile. “We both know Verity’s and my Seasons have not borne the appropriate fruit so far.”

  Nearby, a lady chuckled, prompting Diana to look over. This was the second time tonight Diana had seen the woman eavesdropping on their conversations. Diana didn’t recognize her, but no one else was standing close by, so the lady had to be laughing at their conversation.

  Diana couldn’t imagine why. “I believe a change of subject is in order.” Putting her back deliberately to the lady, she swept her hand down to indicate Isolde’s attire, a sheath of French gray silk with a silver net overlay and darling little bishop sleeves with ribbon bands. “Your gown turned out very well. It suits you.”

  Isolde beamed at her. “Thank you for designing it. I know that your help is why I’ve had so many more dances tonight. If I’d left matters to Mama, I’d be dressed in jonquil satin with large pink tambour-work blossoms over my . . . embonpoint.”

  “Good God,” Verity said. “That sounds awful!”

  The lady nearby laughed outright, reminding Diana that she and her sisters were under heavy scrutiny these days.

  “Verity,” Diana
said in a low voice. “That’s hardly appropriate language for a young lady.”

  “‘Large pink tambour-work blossoms’ over a woman’s ‘embonpoint’ are hardly appropriate for a young lady either,” Verity said grimly. “Thank heavens you intervened. Even I know Isolde would look abysmal in that shade of yellow. The color is perfect for my skin, but—” She flashed their friend an apologetic smile. “It would turn your lovely alabaster skin sallow.”

  “Surely the dressmaker would have discouraged your mother from that choice,” Diana pointed out.

  “I doubt it,” Isolde said. “Mama patronizes Mrs. Ludgate’s shop more than any other woman of the ton, so the dressmaker dares not gainsay Mama. I can barely gainsay her. She’s stubborn to a fault.” Isolde touched her necklace of jet beads. “And speaking of Mama, I couldn’t ask her about this because I don’t trust her taste.”

  “With good reason,” Verity mumbled.

  Isolde went on as if she hadn’t heard Verity. “But I was hoping you could tell me if my jewelry matches my gown well enough.”

  “It matches beautifully,” Diana assured her. “And your reticule is perfect—the simple gray silk and black ribbon ties contrast well with the sparkling net. As always, you have far better taste than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Thank you,” Isolde said with a faint blush. “What a relief.” She turned to Verity. “I did try to implement your ideas about the décor, but Mama—” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, dear, she has spotted me. I’d best go mingle or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Once Isolde was gone, Verity blew her droopy, golden-brown curls from her brow. “It’s so hot in here.” Verity snatched Diana’s fan and started fluttering it over her unfreckled bosom.

  Diana shook her head. “I warned you not to wear velvet in spring. This time of year, the weather is highly unpredictable.”

  “But I like velvet.”

  “I like parents who aren’t engaged in a public war, but we don’t always get to have what we like.” Diana stared straight ahead, ignoring the matron who passed by while giving them the cut direct.

  Her sister’s brow darkened. “All the same, I’m determined to do as I please now that I’m rid of Lord Minton. He hated velvet, so I never wore it. I won’t do that for a man ever again. Look what it got me! I’ll wear what I like and to the devil with it.”

  “And you shouldn’t curse either.”

  “I’ll curse if I please. You should do a bit more cursing. Trust me, it is wonderfully freeing.” Verity sneezed, then pointed Diana’s fan at the massive arrangements of lilies, wisteria, and roses set at intervals of three yards apart. “Isolde’s mother got to do and have what she pleased. Why can’t I? Honestly, who would cobble those three flowers together? The scents are overpowering.”

  “Perhaps she was hoping to counteract the slightly off smell of the salmon cakes.”

  “You didn’t eat any, did you?” Verity asked in alarm. “One sniff and I left them alone.”

  “I went nowhere near them. I confess I was disappointed in the biscuits, too. They were cloyingly sweet. Although the almond ones weren’t bad. Isolde told me she’d chosen those personally because they were her favorite.”

  “Don’t tell Isolde, but aside from her almond biscuits, I found most of the dishes lacking. The roast partridges were too dry, the crab patties too wet, and despite its pretty mold of a basket of fruit, the blancmange had a garlicky flavor. I shudder to think what ingredient was in it.”

  “Garlic, perhaps?” Diana quipped. “Trust me, Isolde tried to counsel her mother on everything involving this ball, but the woman wouldn’t listen. Poor Isolde, to have such a mother.”

  “Not poor Isolde.” Verity shook her head. “She lets it happen. She should stand up to the woman.”

  “The way we stand up to our father?”

  “That’s different. He’s a man.”

  “True.” A man they were utterly dependent on. Diana loved Papa, but sometimes he was so autocratic she wanted to scream. Still, she didn’t dare. He could turn life in the house into constant misery if he was trying to make a point, namely that his way was best.

  He was making that point now by pursuing a divorce. He’d tried shaming Mama into coming back, but she had known what half the ton did—that Papa hadn’t been the marrying kind even after he’d wed her. Meanwhile, some said one of Mama’s early amours had given Diana her brown eyes, dreadful red hair, and freckles. She was the only one with that coloring in her family.

  Still, the rumor had to be false. She hoped it was false anyway. If it were true, Papa had never given a hint of it. His harsh words fell equally on all of them. And Mama had certainly never said a word about it. Sometimes Diana wondered, though....

  Verity stared out over the dance floor. “I’m just saying that Isolde should trust her own opinions more. The woman is smart and beautiful and has exquisite taste in clothing when she’s not listening to her mother. If her mother wasn’t always trying to steer her wrong—and Isolde wasn’t always giving in—I daresay she’d be married by now.”

  Eliza joined them. “I agree. Dear Isolde would be a treasure for any man.”

  “You’re not just saying that because she heeded your advice on the subject of hair, are you?” Verity asked.

  “No, indeed.” Eliza smiled. “I truly enjoyed helping her with her coiffure. And I am pleased she chose my idea for the ribbon arrangement over a turban. She’s far too young to be wearing a turban to a ball.” The music started again, even louder than before. Eliza gestured to them to join her outside on the balcony.

  “Oh, that is so much better,” Diana said as they moved to the far end of the balcony from the door. “I swear, my ears were bleeding.”

  Eliza nodded. “Anyone who hires a twenty-piece orchestra to play music for dancing when three players would do shouldn’t be allowed to throw a ball.” She sighed. “Isolde deserves better. Mrs. Crowder is a perfect example of the rule that just because you can have something doesn’t mean you should.”

  “Mama is another example of that, I’m afraid,” Verity said. “Why couldn’t she simply wait until we were all married before running off with the major-general and forcing Papa’s hand?”

  “I’m sure she’d say she was in love,” Diana said. “Although I suspect it was as much because he was a handsome widower and she feared somebody else would snatch him up before she could.”

  Someone cleared her throat. Startled, they turned to find that the eavesdropping lady had followed them outside. “I know it’s not proper etiquette,” she said in an accent that Diana couldn’t quite place, “but I should like to introduce myself. I’m the Earl of Sinclair’s new wife. I gather that you three are Lady Holtbury’s daughters?”

  Although wary of the woman’s reason for asking, Diana made the introductions.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you all,” the countess said, flashing them a genuine smile. “I assure you, not everyone is against you. I personally think it a shame you should be tarred with the same brush as your mother. In any case, I couldn’t help overhearing your assessment of this affair and I should like to know how you would have improved upon it.” She winked at Eliza. “Other than hiring fewer musicians, that is.”

  When scarlet suffused Eliza’s cheeks, Diana said hastily, “I’m sure we must sound terribly rude, criticizing an event we were charitably invited to attend—”

  “Not a bit. I agree with everything you said. And more.” Lady Sinclair shut the door to the ballroom. “Indeed, I would be most grateful if you would bear with me a moment and answer my questions. You see, I’m expected to throw a ball myself soon, and I’m American, so I’ve never done anything of the sort in London. I could use advice. For example, Lady Diana, what attire would you choose for me as hostess?”

  Opting for caution with the woman, Diana said, “It appears you already have good taste in clothing, madam, because your muslin gown and plaid shawl are both fashionable and flattering to your figure.”