To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) by Eleanor Meyers

spoke, she tried to pay attention, but her mind raced with thoughts of Lord Nathaniel. Her entrance to the party had been more warming than she’d expected, and she’d almost wanted to back out of the entire event before her arrival.

    D uring the ride over , her aunt had done nothing but go on and on about Amy’s new wardrobe and how she’d managed to get an entire trestle of clothing from a specialty booth in a manner of days when the Duchess Hensman herself had struggled to get the exclusive designer to make her more than two frocks a year. She’d also been upset that her husband had bothered to buy Amy anything while not getting Christa a single new item—new being something that hadn’t been purchased just last month! Christa had an abundance of clothing, which was a fact that the duke pointed out, yet still, as Amy watched him, she wondered why the duke didn’t come right out and say that it was Wardington who’d arranged Amy’s wardrobe. No doubt it would have given the duchess something else to talk about besides Amy’s lower percentage.

    “ Y ou’ve got the girl going around looking like something she’s not,” Sally Eaton had said.
    The duke, who’d been staring out his window, had turned to her. “And exactly what is it that she is?” The question had been whispered in a soft voice, but the threat was there.
    The duchess fluffed the skirt of her gown and looked away from his dark eyes. “Well, since you’ve forbidden me to mention anything about the people who birthed her—”
    “And you’ll do well to remember that, dear wife,” he warned. “And need I remind you why?”
    The duchess swallowed, and Amy wished she’d say yes, but since her arrival, she’d wondered why the gossips didn’t know the truth yet, especially when Sally Eaton lived to gossip.
    The duke continued, revealing the truth of it all. “The moment her secret is out, you and your daughter will be taken to a small cottage in the country to live out the remainder of your days alone. Do not embarrass me.” It was the first time he’d said the words in front of Amy, and she finally understood.

    T he duchess cut her eyes at her husband, her chest rising and falling quickly, fueled by both fear and embarrassment… and hate. It wasn’t enough that he spent time with half the women in London, but now he’d begun to threaten the small things that made her happy. London. Parties. Her friends of the peerage. All of it gone if she were to reveal Amy’s true identity.
    Christa had stared out of the window on the opposite side of the carriage, not breathing a word. Your daughter. The words hung in the air, filling the space. The disappointment that Christa wasn’t a boy couldn’t be more evident.
    The entire ride had been a disaster, ruining Amy’s mood about the white dress she wore. It was the first fine thing she’d ever had and now it was tainted with scorn. She’d never wished for Levi’s presence more than she did at that very moment. Levi had always been the middleman between Amy’s family and the duke. Amy had never seen her uncle growing up. Their entire relationship had been through Levi, a boy who’d been Hensman’s right hand since he could walk.

    O nce they’d arrived to the party, Amy had been able to shake off some of the disappointment, as though she could leave it in the carriage. But when her uncle and his wife had been announced at the door, everything had changed.
    Amy had found herself surrounded by people she’d never met but people who apparently knew about her. It had been Wardington’s doing. He’d told her that once the right people accepted her, all would be well—and he was right. Amy had never seen so many smiles, and then the Dowager Cartridge had approached—the leader of them all, who also happened to be a very beautiful woman. Her hair was a dark blonde, her skin plump despite her age, and her dark blue eyes twinkled, like some mythical creature out of an adventure