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The Counterfeit Lady (A Victorian Bookshop Mystery)

Product ID : 19303214


Galleon Product ID 19303214
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About The Counterfeit Lady

Product Description Who would suspect antiquarian bookseller Georgia Fenchurch of leading a double life—as a private investigator for the clandestine Archivist Society in Victorian London? When England’s national security is compromised, Georgia must pose as a titled lady to root out a spy...A cousin of Georgia’s dear friend, Lady Phyllida Monthalf, is brutally murdered in her home during the theft of blueprints of a new battleship designed by her husband—who now stands accused of her murder…and treason. The Duke of Blackford, in service to Whitehall, enlists Georgia and the Archivist Society to assist in the investigation. Playing the part of the duke’s new paramour, Georgia gains entry into the upper echelons of London’s elite, where amidst elegant dinners and elaborate parties a master spy schemes to lay hands on the stolen plans. The duke is no stranger to the world of international espionage, but Georgia is out of her element in more ways than one. She must not allow her genuine attraction to the duke—or her obsession with finding her parents’ killer—to distract her from her role. But when a mysterious stranger threatens to expose her, the counterfeit lady may be in real trouble... Review Praise for the Victorian Bookshop Mystery Series “An engaging heroine.”— New York Times Bestselling Author Emily Brightwell “Engrossing.”— Publishers Weekly “Delightful adventure in Victorian England.”—National Bestselling Author Victoria Thompson   About the Author While other girls read Sleeping Beauty and Snow White, Kate Parker was poring over her mother's Agatha Christie paperbacks. She fell in love with the England of Arthur Conan Doyle and Dorothy Sayers along with all that delectable murder and mystery. Combined with the historical nonfiction that was her father's reading choice, Kate became hooked for life on historical mysteries. When she leaves late Victorian London, Kate finds herself living with the love of her life amid the rivers, swamps, and sand of coastal Carolina. Kate's nineteenth century hometown is beautiful, but research has taught her to be grateful her home comes with twenty-first century conveniences. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. CHAPTER ONE "I need you.” I looked across the width of the shop counter at the Duke of Blackford and all the blood left my head. Pressing my fingers into the wood, I gaped at him as his words echoed in my brain. I never expected to hear him say anything like that to me, Georgia Fenchurch, a middle-class bookshop owner. Never mind the fevered dreams I had about the duke. Broad shoulders, the fragrance of pristine linen and smoke, and a smile reminiscent of his pirate-raider ancestors haunted my nights. Left speechless, I gazed into his mesmerizing dark eyes. I hadn’t seen him since spring, but I’d thought of him often. Then he added, “Miss Fenchurch, Queen Victoria and our country need you,” and my lovely daydream of sitting across the breakfast table from those dark eyes rose into the steam that encircled London thanks to a merciless heat wave. “Perhaps we should go into my office.” I nodded to my assistant, Emma Keyes, who was helping a customer, and walked out from behind the counter. We entered my small office in the back of the shop, stuffy now with the unbearable weather, and the duke immediately headed for the window overlooking the alley. Before I could tell him the window was stuck, he had it open several inches and had turned to face me. “Is it safe to speak here?” “I assure you, no one ever lurks in that alley. The jeweler next door suffers from paranoia.” None of the papers stacked by the window were ruffled by the stagnant air. I shifted the books piled on both chairs over to the desk and then sat. “We’ll keep our voices down, if you don’t mind.” Blackford pulled his chair close to mine and lowered himself so our knees collided. “I do beg your pardon.” “Unavoidable if we’re going to keep our voices down.” The contact was sending