Murder for the Marquess and Other Upstairs Disasters

A Cozy Regency Mystery of Love and Murder

The breakfast bells start clanging. They are not announcing toast. They are announcing trouble.

Prudence Ashdown runs Bramblewick House on keys, rules, and the firm belief that titled guests should be seen and never heard tugging a bell pull like a dying swan. So when the stillroom key vanishes, Lord Rafe Kesterton, Marquess of Vellamere, responds with his favorite pastime: expecting perfection from other people’s hands. Polite society adores order, especially when someone else is breaking a sweat to maintain it.

Then Prudence opens the stillroom and finds a dead butler, a tea tray set for one, and a neatly folded note that reads: For His Lordship. Who poured the tea, who drank it, and who is trying to make a marquess look murderous without the vulgarity of actual blood? Even the spilled sugar seems to be leaving tracks, which is either helpful or deeply insulting.

To save Bramblewick from village scandal, Prudence and Rafe form a most improper partnership: all sharp glances, clipped courtesy, and the slow realization that ruthless competence can be dangerously attractive. As suspects multiply and secrets rattle behind every carefully closed door, they will have to decide what they are willing to risk: their reputations, their carefully controlled household, or the first inconvenient tug of something that feels alarmingly like affection.

Perfect for readers of witty, closed-door historical mysteries with a slow-burn spark, a corpse that refuses to be tidy, and romance that is warm rather than graphic, where the scandal stays clean and the feelings absolutely do not.