London is buzzing with the news that James Winters, the Duke of Wulverton—thought lost at sea a decade ago—survived in the harsh wilderness of the Yukon. Now he's been returned to his family, his responsibilities, and a nightmarish world of artifice and noise. He has three weeks to become a refined, elegant duke for the Queen . . . or doom the entire family to ruin and scandal.

Lady Augusta Penworthy is in dire straights. Her father has spent every last coin, and she and her sisters cannot even afford coal. One chance encounter and a torn gown changes everything. While one might think a sudden marriage to a wealthy lord a relief if that marriage is to the Duke of Blacktower, one would be vastly mistaken. For no young lady wishes to be that infamous rake's bride.

Lady Ludmilla Windmere is mortified. The spinster extraordinaire has fallen in love with her best friend, and that cannot be. The problem? She hasn't met him. Not once. For they have only ever corresponded by letter. When she sets out to uncover his identity, her world shatters. For Addy turns out to be none other but London's worst rake. Adrian St. Addington is perturbed. The rakehell extraordinaire is developing a marked tendre for a spinster, and that cannot be. The problem? She might be mistaking him for someone he is not. Or, what is worse, know precisely who he is.

Trevor Hunt, the Duke of Ridgely, has been called many things, most of which are true. Reviled by his family, hated by many, he's earned his reputation in the seedy streets of London and more than his fair share of bedchambers. But battling deadly foes and irate husbands failed to prepare the duke for the most troublesome role he's played yet: guardian to one maddening hoyden.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own.