DATING THE DUKE-place.jpg

A duke and a writer walk into a bar, and the barman says—never mind. They’re in the library, and they’re not wearing any clothes. Oops.

 

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would.

Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession.

Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester—who happens to be a regular in my highly inappropriate midnight dreams.

Thirty-year-old Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be. And when he shares with me that he needs a date for a charitable event, my mouth betrays me by offering myself up for the evening.

How I find myself naked in the library is another matter entirely. Ahem.

When the society papers declare us an item, neither of us have the heart to tell our families the truth. Only my twin sister and best friend know the truth, but they both agree we need to keep up the charade, even if only for the summer.

But when the end of August comes and my return home beckons, I have to ask myself a question.

Is it only his daughter who’s stolen my heart, or has Alexander done the very same thing?