Following his every order for one month to gain a season in London? A bargain.

I'm the most beautiful woman in England.

I'm not boasting, I'm simply stating a truth universally acknowledged.

Only one man seems not to notice or care. My guardian, a mere former soldier without the proper pedigree.

He's the man who inherited my father's estate after his death, and seems intent on ordering me about as if I'm a servant rather than a lady.

But when his orders extend to bedroom matters, I learn how much I crave his instruction…and discipline. He's the one man I respect.

I'll never marry him. I'll use his body, then leave him to go marry a duke.

I could never fall in love with my guardian, right?