Cozy Regency Mystery

As much as Beatrice Hyde-Clare relished the challenge of figuring out who murdered a fellow guest during a house party in the Lake District, she certainly does not consider herself an amateur investigator. So when a London dandy falls dead at her feet in the entryway of a London Daily Gazette, she feels no compulsion to investigate. It was a newspaper office, after all, and reporters are already on the case as are the authorities.

Someone is snatching priceless jewels right off the necks of British aristocrats. With his intimate access to the parlors and bedrooms of Regency London, the Richmond Thief strikes again and again. The Bow Street Runners, the city's only detectives, seem powerless to stop him. Enter Althea, lady scientist. As the young widow of a country gentleman, Lady Althea Trent is introduced to the upper-class social scene as yet another pretty face. But her own scientific inquiries and an invitation to act as an agent of Bow Street propel her into the hunt for the Richmond Thief.

Twelve sweet Regency Christmas romance stories to make you fall in love this holiday season. Christmas Mystery of the Heart Escaping her past, Lady Sarah Sayers seeks a simple life as a governess. Her world is turned upside down when she meets the Duke of Huntington. Together, they must solve a mystery, but will they also find love in this troubled time? A Duke for Christmas Isabella did not want to end up on Charles’ doorstep, but it might be exactly what both of them need… A clean, Regency romance to warm your heart Christmas Masquerade Ball A Christmas tale of mystery and love from ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I have already hauled an entire viscount, several cups and saucers, and one academy’s worth of respectable hysteria into orderly sentences, and now they have decided I must sell it as well. Apparently my reward for keeping everyone from fainting into the evidence is marketing. At Madame Rochfort’s Academy for Select Young Ladies, morning chocolate is meant to calm nerves and encourage obedient embroidery, not drop a patron dead onto the salon carpet. Viscount Halverton arrives to be admired, praised, and quietly mined for subscriptions; he ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I have already hauled you through sea-mist, ruined stone, and the moral fibre of the British upper classes, and now “they” have decided I should also sell it. Naturally. Welcome to Wynthorpe Castle, perched on the North Sea cliffs like a threat. Miss Elinor Gresham, hired expert in manufactured hauntings, arrives with lenses, gauze, lamp oil, and the calm competence of a woman who can make a drawing room scream on schedule. The Duke of Wynthorpe wants a harbour, a handful of wealthy subscribers to pay for it, and a weekend of tastefully ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I carried every bonnet, bruise and bad decision across the finish line, and now they have decided I must sell it too. Fine. Welcome to the duke of Wescott’s private theatre, where the curtains are crimson, the manners are impeccable, and the main prop is in a temper. Lady Arabella Sorrell arrives engaged to Lord Crispin Fallowmere, dressed for a betrothal celebration and braced for the kind of conversation that kills the spirit slowly. Instead she gets a sulking black cabinet built to make a gentleman vanish, a manager named Draycott who looks ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I have already carried one stubborn widow, one inconveniently principled doctor, and an entire village’s worth of holy outrage across the page, and now they have decided I must sell it as well. Apparently murder is not labour unless it comes with marketing. A cozy Regency whodunit where Sunday best meets a very un-Sunday death. In the village of Hartleigh, Phoebe Hartwell keeps an apothecary, a steady hand, and her temper in a respectable jar, largely because the alternative is letting the manor decide what sort of widow she is allowed to be. ...

Lady Frederica knows she needs to stay away from the Earl of Wetherby. However, she cannot seem to remove thoughts of him from her mind. The London Season has just begun, and one of the first gentlemen Lady Frederica meets behaves most improperly, indeed! The Earl of Wetherby’s social blunders keep happening and her own reputation is at risk. Percy, the Earl of Wetherby, is embarrassed by his own behavior and mistakes. However, most of the mistakes are not his fault. Someone is out to get him. He does not understand why a mysterious woman is trying to force his hand in marriage. Lady ...

Enjoy 11 sweet regency romances in one touching box set! Follow the stories of Lords and Ladies as they delve their way into the heart of society and lose their hearts along the way!' This Box Set Includes: The Viscount in Hiding The Reluctant Viscount Threatened by a Lord The Widow and the Lord Alex & Harriet An Everlasting Love A Healing Love Lady of His Dreams The Heart of a Lady The Memories of Duke A Heart’s Return

This sparkling box set includes all four full-length novels in Claudia Stone’s Regency Murder and Marriage series—a delightful blend of cosy mystery, romantic mischief, and sharp-tongued heroines who always find trouble… and often find love along the way.

The third book in the Mr. Darcy & Miss Tilney Mystery series, which finds the amateur sleuths facing their most daunting challenge yet: preventing the murder of the imperious Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Someone is trying to kill Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Esteemed aunt of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I have already carried an entire Mayfair Season, three dozen teacups, and one extremely rude corpse across the page, and now they have decided I must also persuade you to join the mess. Fine. Come in, mind the carpet. In A Spot of Murder in Mayfair, Lady Helena Foxe is supposed to be doing what well bred young ladies do best, namely, smiling politely while other people ruin their own lives in whispers. Instead, a tired clerk with ink on his finger and trouble in his wake collapses in her family’s drawing room, leaving blood in the wool and ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I already hauled you through every paragraph of virtue, vice, and shelving, and now they have decided I must sell it as well. Apparently death by furniture is not self explanatory. Welcome to the Ladies’ Minerva Library, where the hall smells of ink and soap, the rule book is impeccable, and the shelves are full of exactly what everyone swears they are not reading. Eleanor Pryce keeps the catalogues honest, the keys accounted for, and the sermons politely returned, while the Gothic romances travel under cover of moral improvement, as God and Mrs...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I am to haul you through every polite disaster inside it and receive precisely none of the credit. Now they have decided I should also sell it, as though I were not busy keeping everyone from lying in the same sentence. Beatrix Langford arrives at a country observatory to do the sensible work, copy figures, reconcile ledgers, and let titled people feel clever beneath a dome with a slit like a watchful eye. Then Lady Honoria Pemberton falls down her own staircase, very dramatically and quite dead, leaving behind an irritable ghost who refuses to be...

A marquess and a lady must avoid rumors and scandal while solving a great mystery. Lady Prudence has always enjoyed London. However, when her cousin suddenly appears, frantically handing her a package before being knocked to the ground by a runaway carriage, everything changes in an instant. A gentleman nearby comes to her aid, and instantly, Prudence finds herself locked in a dangerous mystery. Felix, the Marquess of Stoneleigh, had been intending to leave London, finding his search for a bride to be less than successful. None of the young ladies have truly caught his attention, no matter ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I have already hauled you through an entire country house full of ringing bells, bruised dignity, and people lying to my face about tea, and now they have decided I must also sell it. Apparently murder is not labour enough, I must do marketing too. Bramblewick belongs to a marquess who prefers not to notice how his own house runs, which is a charming hobby until the morning the stillroom key goes missing and the butler turns up dead beside a tray meant for His Lordship. Prudence Ashdown, head housekeeper, keeper of keys, and the only person here ...

I am the narrator of this book, which means I already dragged everyone through Brighton’s wind, pebbles, and social spite, and now they want me to sell it too. Fine. Have your little summary. Try not to drip on the carpet. It begins with Brighton’s finest nuisance, a gossip columnist, washed up dead in full dress, as if the sea itself has finally taken offence at being reviewed. Miss Honoria Finch, companion to the Duchess of Wrexham and long-suffering handler of shawls and ankles, finds herself far too close to the corpse and far too interesting to the Prince Regent’s private ...

Does the truth really set you free? A missing serving girl. A swindled nobleman. An Irish mobster. London 1811. When her stepcousin Alexander Dovefield, the future Baron of Newark, asks for her help to find a missing serving girl from his favorite gambling hell, Lady Zoe Demas once again enlists inquiry agent Quinton Huxley to piece together the puzzle of who is cheating whom. What at first seems like a simple swindle takes a sinister and murky turn when bodies start to pile up. As they attempt to solve the mystery, Quinton also struggles with revelations about his own past . . . and what ...

I am the narrator of Murder, Marmalade, and Other Ballroom Disasters, which means I have already carried you through candlelight, gossip, and a man expiring on polished floorboards, and now they want me to sell it as well. Splendid. Nothing says “romance” like administrative labour. Here is what you are walking into: Bath’s Assembly Rooms, terrible music, and Miss Julia Amberley sitting very still at the edge of society because a certain Mr Jasper Fenton once spoke a few convenient sentences and left her to choke on the consequences. Then he has the decency to die at her feet in a ...

I have already carried this entire tale across the finish line, kept the facts in order, and stopped the characters from licking anything obviously poisonous, and now they have decided I must sell it too. Very well, hover at the threshold, and try to look innocent. Here is what waits on the other side of page one: Miss Tabitha Grey of Greycot Cottage, botanist, notebook tyrant, and the sort of nosy neighbour who owns a spyglass “for excursions” and then points it at Merrow Abbey because, frankly, there were grooms and trunks and a returning duke to be assessed. Gabriel Merrow comes home...