When Sebastian Ashford, the notoriously reclusive Duke of Wexford, arrives in London for the Season with a singular purpose — to silence the matchmaking mothers and the whispers of the ton once and for all — the last person he expects to serve as his solution is Miss Violet Stratton: a sharp-tongued, gloriously inconvenient woman who once poured a glass of ratafia down his coat at a Vauxhall supper and has never, not once, apologised. But Violet has troubles of her own: her younger sister’s prospects hang in the balance, and a scandal is only one gossiping dowager away. The bargain they strike is entirely sensible — a temporary, utterly fictitious engagement that benefits them both — and it would remain sensible if only they could stop arguing long enough to notice how dangerously close they keep standing to one another.
Set against the glittering backdrop of the 1814 London Season — with Napoleon freshly vanished to Elba and society ablaze with relief and extravagance — The Duke’s Fake Fiancée is a sparkling, emotionally layered romance in which two people who believe themselves immune to love discover, to their considerable inconvenience, that they are not.
