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Chapter 1
The Duke Returns 
London, 1825The docks
 T
hey said he had been a pirate. It seemed utterly believable. The other rumors about SebastianDigby, the Duke o Wycli, were equally riveting.It was said that he had charmed and seduced hisway across countries and continents; that there ex-isted no law or woman he couldn’t bend to suit hiswhims; that he had lived among the natives in Tahitiand swam utterly nude in the clear turquoise waters;that he had escaped the dankest o prisons and thor-oughly enjoyed himsel in a sultan’s harem.A gentleman he clearly was not.And now this charming, adventurous, scandalousduke had returned home, to London.Miss Eliza Fielding had joined the throngs onthe dock to witness the long-awaited return o thisduke, as per the orders o her employer, Mr. DerekKnightly. She wrote or the monstrously popularnewspaper he owned and edited,
The London Weekly
.In act, she was one o the our inamous Writing
 
M
 aya 
odale
2
Girls who wrote or the paper. For the moment, atany rate.
If she didn’t get this story . . .
Eliza tugged her bonnet lower across her brow toprotect against the light drizzle alling and dug herhands into the pockets o her coat.“I you don’t get this story,” Mr. Knightly had toldher plainly as she stood in his Fleet Street oce justyesterday, “I can no longer employ you as a writer or
The London Weekly
. I cannot justiy it i you are notsubmitting publishable works.”It was perectly logical. It was only business. Andyet it elt like a lover’s betrayal.Knightly didn’t need to say that she hadn’t beenturning in any decent stories—they both knew it.Weeks had turned into months, and not one article ohers appeared in its pages.Oh, she used to write the most marvelous sto-ries—a week in the workhouse undercover to exposethe wretched conditions, exclusive interviews withNewgate prisoners condemned to death, detailingthe goings-on in a brothel to show what the lives oprostitutes were really like. I there was a truth inneed o light, Eliza was up to the task. I adventure,danger, and the dark side o London were involved,so much the better.Lately she hadn’t been inspired. The wordswouldn’t come. Hours, she spent with a quill in hand,dripping splotches o ink o a blank sheet o paper.
But this story . . .
Knightly’s assignment was plain: to uncover everylast secret o the Duke o Wycli. All o Londonwas panting or the intimate details o his ten yearsabroad. It wasn’t
just
that he was a duke—and the
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