By Sophie Jordan
"**The final lady in the world he could ever contact . . .**
Declan, the Duke of Banbury, has no real interest in ushering Rosalie Hughes, his stepsister, into society. Dumped on him with nowhere else to move, he's decided to rid himself of the headstrong debutante by means of bestowing on her an obscenely huge dowry . . . making her the main sought-after heiress of the Season.
**. . . is set to develop into the single one he wants.**
But Rosalie isn't approximately to head in addition to Declan's plans. Surrounded by means of fortune hunters, how is she speculated to discover a guy who actually desires her? Taking regulate of her destiny, Rosalie dons a hide and sneaks into Sodom, a personal membership host to all demeanour of illicit activity—and frequented by means of her infuriatingly good-looking stepbrother.
In a shadowed alcove, Declan can't withstand the masked temptress who units his blood afire . . . from now on than Rosalie can deny her eager for a guy who will ship her into ruin.
Read or Download A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin (The Debutante Files, Book 1) PDF
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Additional info for A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin (The Debutante Files, Book 1)
Of my strange visitor there was no sign. Herman was sitting on the hearth looking unruffled, and I envied him his peace of mind. I was still thoroughly alarmed by the trespass. Especially when I looked to the front door and found it closed but unbarred. A quick search revealed that Fergus’s journal was gone. So my mysterious visitor was a thief—but perhaps a kind one, since he had bothered to make up the fire and drape me with a blanket. He also felt enough at home to make a pot of tea before departing.
Doubtless he had visited many times and knew the tides and where it was safe to stow a boat. And he had even used the kitchen before, because he was human, subject to the cold, not a devil or a sea monster who had no need for tea. And he had come at night because of the stupid villagers who were so hostile to strangers. Look at how they still treated me! Findloss was necessarily hermetic given its geography, and while not inbred in any physical sense, it was unusually xenophobic and superstitious.
I needed more information, and my only real hope of getting it was if Fergus had left some other journals or letters behind: Surely if this stranger had been a friend, Fergus would make some mention of him. And if he wasn’t a friend…? Well, he would probably mention that too. My Aunt Sophie—acquired through marriage and thought of without affection—was originally from Texas. She always said to my mother that I had a lot of quit in me. The stupid woman didn’t know me very well. What I had had were a lot of good manners drilled into me, and that kept me from contradicting her even when what she said was idiotic, self-serving or vicious, which was most of the time.