House of Lovell

Lord and Lady Chatham were blessed with five sons and only one daughter. But when it comes to Caroline, one is more than enough . . . Caroline is about to embark on her third Season and her parents fear she'll be permanently on the shelf if she fails to make a match this time. Unfortunately for them, that is precisely what Caroline wants! Curious and adventuresome, Caroline longs for a life of travel, excitement, and perhaps even a touch of danger . . . If only she can remain unmarried until she turns twenty-one, Caroline will inherit her grandmother's bequest and gain her freedom. It's not a staggering amount, but it's enough to fund her dreams without a husband's permission. She has her future all planned out-until Lawrence Sinclair appears on the scene . . . Intense, intriguing, and handsome, the man reminds Caroline of a caged lion. In fact, the more she knows of him, the more questions she has. And when she learns how dangerous he really is, he may just become her new fascination-the one she can't resist . . .

With the dowries of all the season's debutantes exposed in its scandalous pages, The Bachelor's Bible is a handy tool for an earl in need of an heiress . . . Edward Lovell, newly minted earl, bears a weighty responsibility: to restore his family's estate to its former grandeur. The task requires not simply a wife, but a wealthy one. Thanks to The Bachelor's Bible, he already has a particular lady in mind. He has only to convince her sponsor that he will make a suitable husband. There's just one complication: the sponsor is none other than the only woman he's ever loved-and inexplicably lost. Now a young widow, Lady Anne Howard is more beautiful than ever . . . Anne is not about to be taken for a fool a second time. When they last met, Edward was Lord Bredon, the man she adored-the man who destroyed her dreams of a happy future. Now he is pursuing the hand of the young lady Anne must keep safe from unscrupulous suitors. But who will protect Anne from the earl who still possesses her heart?. . .