A scandalous masquerade, a missing heir, and a baroness who refuses to play by the rules

London, 1823 —

When widowed Baroness Lady Rose Stanford crashes a notorious masquerade in search of a titled husband, she doesn’t expect to kiss a mysterious stranger—or get pulled into a dangerous game of blackmail and murder.

Emerson Whitmore, a self-made merchant, wants nothing to do with the peerage until a cousin’s suspicious disappearance and a damning note thrust him into aristocratic intrigue and into the path of the most irritating and desirable woman he…wishes he’d never met.

Sparks fly and secrets unravel as Rose and Emerson join forces to uncover a killer, protect vulnerable young women, and navigate a society where appearances deceive and love may be the ultimate scandal.

Praise for Bedeviled by the Baroness:
“A mystery to draw you in and characters so vividly drawn, how could anyone resist this Regency romance?” ~Award Winning Author, Meredith Bond

BEDEVILED BY THE BARONESS
Rebel Lords of London
BY KATHY L WHEELER

Excerpt

Her appearance put a damper on his search, and he likely wouldn’t have another such opportunity.

She took a large swallow of the brandy and let out a coughing fit that had her eyes watering. “I thought this was Madeira,” she choked out.

“In a brandy glass? No.” He sipped his. “Definitely brandy. Were the hounds after you?”

“Er, no.” She pulled a small, laced handkerchief from a hidden pocket of her frock.

Emerson took her glass and set it on the desk, then the hankie, noting the embroidered initials of RS and dabbed at the tears trickling from behind her mask. “Now, what has you so flustered?”

“The fop was after me.”

His fingers stopped, poised as if encased in marble…or seized by rigor mortis. “Shufflebottom is on his way…in here?”

“No, thank the heavens. I lost him in the crowd.” Her voice fascinated him. Modulated, educated. And, sadly, definitely nobility.

Emerson pocketed the handkerchief and let out a breath. With no ties to the beau monde, he had no entry into many of the upper echelon’s residences. Yet perhaps that wasn’t quite so true any longer. If Ben did happen to become earl—

Impossible. As the bastard son of Mr. Jaxon Massey, Emerson would still have no reason to rub elbows with lofty lords. He needed another way in. This enticing creature opened an interesting prospect.

The masquerade event had allowed Emerson to avoid dealing with the aristocracy. The nobs were a fickle, irresponsible lot who typically put the screws to the lower-class populous. Hence the case of the Marquis of Shufflebottom.

For the second time in as many minutes, the door flew back.

In a most discourteous move his father would yank his ear for, Emerson quickly snagged his RS lady’s maid, tugging her into his chest, and covered her mouth with his. He dove his gloved hand into the mass of hair he couldn’t feel but was certain would haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future.

Her lips stilled beneath his.

“What the devil is going on here?” Shufflebottom’s voice grated like rusted iron.

The full mouth under Emerson’s went instantly compliant, and her fingers stole beneath his domino, clutching at him. Emerson, true to the gentleman he was not, swept his tongue into the sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted. But she stiffened as if she’d never been kissed. He stroked with an ever growing need that fired his blood to near anarchy over his own body.

Slowly, Emerson pulled away, meeting her stunned, wide-eyed gaze. Her kiss was as innocent as that of a virgin, but her eyes spoke of a different kind of experience. He wanted to rip away her jeweled-tipped mask. See if her skin was as soft as her lips. See her cheeks flushed with a blush.