By Sophie Jordan

"**The final lady in the world he could ever contact . . .**

Declan, the Duke of Banbury, has little interest in ushering Rosalie Hughes, his stepsister, into society. Dumped on him with nowhere else to head, he's made up our minds to rid himself of the headstrong debutante via bestowing on her an obscenely huge dowry . . . making her the main sought-after heiress of the Season.

**. . . is set to turn into the single one he wants.**

But Rosalie isn't approximately to head besides Declan's plans. Surrounded by way of fortune hunters, how is she presupposed to discover a guy who really desires her? Taking keep watch over 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 face up to 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.
"

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The place did you get those? They’re scandalous. ” “I did it. ” Rosalie stared at her uncomprehendingly. “What? ” She persisted. “I went to Sodom. This afternoon. I known as at the proprietress, Mrs. Bancroft, all on my own. ” Rosalie lurched up at the mattress on her knees. “You did what? ” Aurelia nodded, her brown curls taking a look nearly as black as her costume. “She met with me in her inner most workplace. Oh, Rosalie, she was once ever so refined. She promised us discretion. ” “You are critical? ” Aurelia frowned. “Were you now not? prior this present day. i didn't mistake your which means, did I? ” Rosalie shook her head. “No . . . i'm . . . i'm prepared for . . . ” What accurately? used to be she prepared for Sodom? “Oh, first-class! i don't understand if i may have long gone it by myself. ” Aurelia exhaled after which snatched Rosalie’s costume again from her. “Come. I’ll assist you into your dress. My maid, Cecily, will fetch us a hack round again. And glance. Mrs. Bancroft gave us those. to guard our identities in this event. ” Aurelia nodded to the 2 dominos she had dropped at the mattress. Rosalie lifted the mask. One was once black and the opposite pink. “I imagine I should still put on the pink . . . supply a few distinction with my black dress. And an identical goal should still serve for you with the black. Don’t you're thinking that? ” Rosalie lifted the midnight-­dark masks to her face, fingering the satin that stretched over the stiffer brocade. “Oh, that appears perfect. ” Aurelia hopped the place she stood for a second, jiggling her breasts loads that they regarded dangerously with regards to spilling freed from her scandalously tight bodice. “And allow us to no longer overlook those. ” She waved wigs within the air. “Wha—­” “Mrs. Bancroft stated it is going to aid safeguard your id. And along with your very recognizable hair, it’s relatively a needs to. I’ll take this attractive golden wig. You put on the black one. It’s very Cleopatra, no? together with your white costume . . . ideal! ” Rosalie fingered the graceful black strands, pleasure buzzing low in her stomach. She was once rather doing this. Aurelia clapped her arms. “Let’s get you within the costume first, we could? No corset, brain you. It won’t glance correct. ” Rosalie’s gaze snapped as much as her face. “No corset? ” Aurelia stretched out the scrap of bodice among her arms as if that served as rationalization adequate. “Come. Let’s easily see, we could? ” She accepted Aurelia to assist her undress and slip into the robe. Turning, she may scarcely breathe as her pal buttoned the tiny rows of buttons at her again. It had not anything to do with the healthy of the costume, both. It was once all nerves. The insurrection of butterflies in her abdominal. What am I doing? “Oh, and those stockings! We mustn’t omit those. ” Rosalie positioned them on, blanching on the decadent pair of sheer stockings—­nothing just like the ser­viceable, modest ones she continually wore. those have been skinny as cobwebs with a skinny strip of lace operating up the surface of her thighs. She shifted, shocked on the decadent sensation of the cloth on her naked legs. Aurelia helped her tie them off with lacy garters. “There. Now . . . the wig. ” She struggled for a few moments, knotting Rosalie’s hair with regards to the bottom of her scalp earlier than securing the wig in position.

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