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honest enough to know that her age and lack of beauty made it difficult. But it was her brother Brandon’s deeds that had earned him powerful enemies, particularly the Duke of Worthingstone. The man had all but destroyed them, by way of vengeance, after Brandon had arranged for the duchess to be kidnapped a few years ago.
    It wasn’t fair. Her brother’s rash behavior had tainted her own name, though Sarah had done nothing wrong. She wanted to flee London and never look back, she lacked the funds to do so. She had to find a way to save herself, no matter what the means.
    Sarah walked across the room to the single pane of glass overlooking the hazy London streets. I can’t do this alone. There was no one in their family whom she could turn to. She pressed her cheek to the cold glass, praying to a god who had never before answered her prayers.
    Why would he start now? she thought bitterly.
    If only there was a way to earn money on her own, she would be reliant upon no man. But she was the daughter of an earl, and no one would consider hiring her as a companion or a governess.
    She had to find a way toward her own freedom, no matter what the cost. Being kind and ladylike had earned her nothing at all. Perhaps it was time to become ruthless, like Brandon.
    A sudden idea crystallized within her mind. There was a secret she’d overheard a few months ago. A secret that she hadn’t been meant to overhear, one that would ruin the women involved.
    A secret that surely was worth the price of her silence.

Chapter T wo
    T he day with Margaret had been more successful than Amelia had expected. Madame Benedict had chosen a stunning violet silk embroidered with gold for Margaret. Her sister had been so touched by the purchase, she’d hugged Amelia.
    “You didn’t have to do this,” Margaret said.
    Oh, but she did. She wanted her sister to feel good about herself again, to know that the years hadn’t diminished her beauty. And if Margaret finally found a husband and a happy life, it would be easier on both of them when Amelia eventually married.
    “Shopping always makes me feel better,” she said. “And when you wear this, you’ll catch every gentleman’s eye.” Particularly the Earl of Castledon’s, if she could manage it. Already, she’d sent her initial list to him, by way of a footman. There was no need for a letter of explanation—the simple numbered list of unmarried ladies was answer enough. Amelia had put Margaret as lady number three, among the other six contenders. Seven was a reasonable number of women.
    She had deliberately selected the quiet women, the wallflowers who had few options. The wealthy heiresses and the more vibrant women could have their pick of suitors. If the earl hadn’t already chosen one of them, it was clear that he had no interest in women of that nature. He was a stoic man, and she suspected that the chattering sort wouldn’t appeal.
    She, herself, was a prime example of a woman who talked too much. Amelia was well aware of it, and it didn’t bother her at all. If she had something to say, she said it. Which was why she felt comfortable making a match for the earl. He had no interest in a woman like her, and she’d been friends with him long enough to recognize that there was no harm in trying to help him. All of the women on the list were nice young ladies who would leap at the chance to marry an earl.
    Satisfied with herself, she went to examine a violet corset embroidered with pink roses. “Margaret, this would be lovely with your new gown, don’t you think?” She spoke loudly, so that the other women nearby would hear her. “I’ve never felt such silk. I imagine it would be wonderful against a woman’s bare skin.”
    It was one of the garments that the crofters had sewn for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, and Amelia fully intended to help Madame Benedict sell more of them.
    “Perhaps.” Margaret reddened, holding out her arms while Madame Benedict took her