We, the undersigned, confined to spinsterhood through no fault of our own, hereby declare to guide our beloved niece, Eliza Merriweather, through the upcoming season and secure for her one, if not several, offers of marriage. We vow to consult the magnificent handbook Rules of Engagement and follow its advice to the letter. Our mission will be difficult, for Eliza is a very independent-minded young woman and a worthy adversary. Already, she has hatched a scheme of her own and persuaded Magnus MacKinnon, possessor of mesmerizing silver eyes and a shockingly sexy brogue, to play the role of attentive suitor. But with our help, it is only a matter of time before their "pretend" affections blossom into the real thing. And so we pledge to remain steadfast and to accept nothing less than complete victory: our dearest Eliza walking hand in hand down the aisle with Magnus MacKinnon. With true hearts and strong purpose, The Ladies Letitia and Viola Featherton

Good heavens-I've gotten myself into a scrape! Mere weeks ago, I was simply Jenny Penny, a lady's maid, a lord's illegitimate daughter, and a lover of fine frocks. But my credit at the shops of Bath has been cut off, and I am forced to sell my homemade facial cream at night, without my employers' knowledge. Who knew it would become the sensation of the ton? That society ladies would apply it to a most intimate part of their body? Or that rumor would spread that "tingle cream" was created by a highborn woman named Lady Eros? If that were not enough, my mistresses-the matchmaking Featherton sisters-have made me their new project. By passing me off as Lady Genevieve, they mean to see me wed to Callum Campbell, Lord Argyll. I cannot fault their taste. His sable-dark eyes and his devastatingly wicked smile thrill me. Now I am Lady Genevieve by day and Lady Eros by night. And I blush to think of what will happen when Callum and society discover that, in truth, I am neither.

ONCE A RAKE, ALWAYS A RAKE! Gentle Reader, always remember that-and pray that I, Meredith Merriweather, heed my own warning. For I find myself caught in a scheme to prove that the notorious "former" scoundrel Lord Lansing, Alexander Lamont, is just as wicked as he always has been. To complete my cautionary guidebook, which will save young ladies from suffering at the hands of cads, I am dangling my very self as bait! Now the insufferable rogue believes that I am the woman for him. Even more scandalous, my great-aunts-the matchmaking Featherton sisters-are aiding his outrageous pursuit instead of encouraging the respectable gentleman I am determined to marry. I admit that Alexander's charming smile and laughing eyes are most intriguing. But good heavens, must I always be tempted to give my heart to the type of man no proper woman should trust, let alone love?

Fiddlesticks! I am sure the ladies Letitia and Viola Featherton are wrong when it comes to matchmaking. They insist that it has all to do with love. I, Miss Hannah Chillton, believe one has only to bring a couple together and let nature take its true course. To prove my point, I secretly plan to match the ladies themselves. Lud, what a challenge! They are practically in their dotage. And love certainly does not signify in the match the Featherton sisters are making for me. True, when Lord St. Albans and I first met, he fair took my breath away. But after we accidentally ran him down with our carriage, I became convinced he belongs to that most despicable class of men: rakes. His arrogance is insufferable ... except when he appears so shy and considerate that I almost think St. Albans is two different men. But that cannot be possible. Or can it?