In this delightfully witty Victorian romance, a governess spy running away from her past falls for an ex-soldier turned railroad magnate—perfect for fans of Manda Collins and Bridgerton!

The utterly charming Emily Leverton has a dark past and is determined to leave it behind in her respectable new role as a governess. But when she is recruited by a secret network of governesses who spy on the ton, it may just be a way to redeem the dark secrets of her past.

Straddling the worlds of the ton and the working class, as an ex-solider turned railroad magnate, Zach hunts killers for the Metropolitan Police by day and dutifully attends balls at night. In neither world has he met a woman with the brazenness to mock him. So when a saucy governess blows him a kiss he is determined to catch her, never expecting that when he does he will find an intelligent, quirky woman hiding more than her true name. As Zach peels back the layers of Emily’s lies, he falls for the street-wise woman who handles a dagger like a pro and kisses like a mistress. But when his affair with Emily intertwines with his hunt for a killer, he discovers Emily is hiding an explosive secret—one that could destroy them both.

Excerpt

May 1838

Emily Leverton was a hopeless governess. She played the pianoforte with the grace of an elephant, her arithmetic was appalling, and the last time she’d read The Ladies’ Guide to Etiquette and Manners her eyes had nearly crossed with boredom. The only thing at which she excelled was something no gently bred woman should know.

Alas, Emily was no gently bred woman.

Emily handed her youngest pupil a sheet of stationary. Although it was true that Emily’s ability to teach accomplishments such as needlework and dancing was nearly nonexistent, she was an expert in deceit.

“The first rule of spying,” she instructed, “is to act as if you are entirely uninterested in the conversation around you. Jot that down, Morris. You will never best your twin sisters if you do not take this seriously.”

The seven-year-old neatly wrote the first rule at the top of the stationary. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the schoolroom window and caught in his hair as if it were a halo and he an angel. Morris truly was the dearest child, which made him an easy target for his conniving older sisters. Fortunately, Emily’s true talents were . . . unconventional.

When he finished he lifted earnest brown eyes. “What is rule number two, Miss Leverton?”

Emily crouched beside him and touched his shoulder. “Rule number two is that you must never base your worth on what others think of you. None of us are perfect. Some of us are not even what we seem.”

The dinner gong rang, and Morris smiled shyly before tucking the paper in his trouser pocket. “Thank you, Miss Leverton.”

“We will finish tomorrow!” she called at his departing back.

Emily spent a few minutes tidying the schoolroom before she set off for the Mottersheads’ library. As the governess of the house she was neither servant nor nobility, which made dinner arrangements awkward. She had solved the problem early in her assignment by retreating to the library until the Mottersheads had finished their repast, and then taking her supper alone in the breakfast room.

Emily stilled in the hallway and cocked her head, her baser instincts buzzing. Had she heard a sound? Everyone should be dressing for dinner, including the latest addition to the household—the children’s uncle, Viscount Charlsburn. The tyrant had arrived the week before and his sour demeanor had the entire estate on edge. Unhappy with everything from the state of the silverware to the architecture of the stables, he lorded over the house as if he owned it himself, his hooked nose sniffing out Cook’s imperfections and his crafty eyes appraising the value of each object. No anomaly escaped his scrutiny, and that included Emily.

Satisfied she was alone, Emily continued toward the library. She rounded the corner and shrieked with dismay when she nearly collided with the viscount, who had to have been walking silently on purpose.

“What is the hurry, Miss Leverton?” he asked, his fingers clawing into her upper arms even though she was in no danger of falling. His oily voice reminded her of her former husband’s.

“No hurry.” Emily’s tone was light as she stepped back, forcing him to release her. “Is there something I can help you with, my lord?”

Shrewd gray eyes fell on her mouth. “Indeed. Remind me from where you hail, Miss Leverton?”

“Monmouth.”

“Yes, that is what I thought. I have a dear friend in Monmouth. I wrote to him within a few days of my arrival. To his knowledge, no Leverton family resides in the township. Odd, would you not say?”

Emily had suspected Charlsburn knew she was not what she seemed, and this confirmed it. She was experienced enough to know when a con had gone south.

It was time to move on.

He closed the distance between them and reached for a dark curl that had fallen from her pins. Emily dodged his hand, but he advanced again. “Stay still, my pet. Do you know how I have dreamt of this moment?”

Emily’s stomach clenched.

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About the Author

Lindsay writes historical and contemporary romances with quirky heroines and happily ever afters. When she’s not writing, Lindsay is reading (probably romance), drinking coffee, and avoiding laundry. Although she lives in New York, she was born and raised in Maine, which is probably why she likes snow so much.