A Diamond for a Duke
Seductive Scoundrels Series, #1
A dour duke and a wistful wallflower—an impossible match until fate intervenes one enchanted night.
Caution: This Historical Regency Romance contains a duke who literally thumbs his nose at society, a sweet and intelligent wallflower with a secret dream, a villainess worthy of a fairy tale, and two delightful match-making dowagers.
A dour duke.
Jules, the Sixth Duke of Dandridge disdains Society and all its trappings, preferring the country’s solitude and peace. Already jaded and cynical since the woman he loved died years ago, he’s become even more so since unexpectedly inheriting a dukedom’s responsibilities and finding himself the target of every husband-hunting vixen in London.
A wistful wallflower.
Forever in her stunning sister’s shadow, Jemmah Dament has adored Jules from afar for years—since as children they were the best of friends. She daren’t dream she can win a duke’s heart any more than she hopes to escape the life of servitude imposed on her by an uncaring mother. Jemmah knows full well, Jules is too far above her station. Besides, his family has already selected his perfect duchess: a poised, polished, exquisite blueblood.
But one enchanted night.
A chance encounter reunites Jules and Jemmah, resulting in a passionate interlude neither can forget. Jules realizes he wants more—much more—than Jemmah’s sweet kisses or her warming his bed. He must somehow convince her to gamble on a dour duke. But can Jemmah trust a rogue promised to another? One who’s sworn never to love again?
Buy this page-turning book for an emotional, entertaining, and romantic fairy-tale meets Regency world adventure you won’t want to put down.
Though this book is part of a series, it can easily be read as a stand-alone novel.
Click HERE for the audio version!
See what readers are saying:
“…another hit, that will keep you glued to the pages…” ★★★★★ ~My Reading Addiction
“…a fast and delightful read with plenty of heart and humor.” ★★★★★ ~Bookworm 2Bookworm
“…a truly sweet and touching story.” ★★★★★ ~Flippen Pages
“…long on charm, the writing is exquisite as ever, which is not surprising from Collette Cameron.” ★★★★★ ~Mo
“…funniest I have read in a long time. The monikers Ms. Cameron gave her characters made me laugh so hard at times that I had tears in my eyes.” ★★★★★ ~Monica
“Collette Cameron has done a marvelous job retelling Charles Perrault’s classic tale! Bravo!” ★★★★★ ~Dottie
“Easy to read, difficult to put down.” ★★★★★ ~Tricia
“Miss Cameron is an excellent story teller and always brings her characters to life. This tale will not disappoint you but make you want more!! ★★★★★ ~Lori Dykes
“It has moments where you smile, laugh and maybe a fist bump or two as well as those moments of empathy and disgust. It’s a book you won’t want to put down once you start reading it.” ★★★★★ ~Trudy
“I loved this book. I loved everything about it. The plot, the characters, and the thinking that went into it.” ★★★★★ ~K Hudecek
Wending between the numerous pieces of furniture in the moon’s half-light, Jules smacked his shin into the settee. Pain spiraling from calf to knee, he softly cursed and bent to rub the offended limb.
“Dammit. Must Theo constantly rearrange this room? Two hell-fired times since December.”
A startled gasp, swiftly stifled, had him jerking upright, whacking his shoulder this time.
Silence met his inquiry. Had he stumbled upon a lover’s tryst? A thief? A wayward servant or inquisitive guest? He fingered his throbbing shoulder, pressing the pads against the pain.
“Reveal yourself at once.”
Running his fingers along the settee’s back, he located the pedestal sofa table.
Other than shallow breathing, the culprit kept quiet.
Squinting, he made out a light-colored form reclining on the dark blue and silver striped cushions. A woman, and by all the stampeding elephants in Africa, he bet his silver buttons, and the two new bruises he surely sported, he knew who laid there.
Like a slowly uncoiling rope, the tension eased from his taut muscles.
He fumbled a bit until he found the engraved silver tinderbox beside the candelabra and moments later, a wax taper flared to life.
“Hello, Your Grace.”
Miss Jemmah Dament, her rosy lips curved upward in a small closed-mouth smile and her face still sleep-softened, blinked groggily.
Hello, indeed. Adorable, sleepy kitten.
He lifted the candle higher, taking in her svelte figure, her delectable backside pressed to the sofa, one hand still cradling her cheek. Surprise and carnal awareness, pleasant and unexpected, tingled a rippling path from one shoulder to the other.
The plain, awkward little mudlark had transformed into a graceful dove. One who rivaled—no, by far exceeded—her sister’s allure.
“Well, hello to you as well, Miss Jemmah Dament.”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world to be found napping during a ball at her aunt’s house, and then awoken by a man crashing into her makeshift bed, she sat up and brushed a wayward curl off her forehead.
Jules set about lighting the other three tapers. Their glow revealed striking pale blue, wide-set almond-shaped eyes, fringed by dark lashes, and tousled hair somewhere between rich caramel and light toffee.
He hadn’t seen her up close in—
How long had it been?
Cocking his head, he searched his mind’s archives.
At least since last summer.
Yes, that afternoon in August; in Hyde Park, when she’d walked past wearing a travesty of a walking ensemble. A sort of greenish-gray color somewhere between rotten fish and bread mold.
Yawning delicately behind one slender hand, she smoothed her plain ivory gown with the other.
Except for a yellowish-tan sash below her breasts, the garment lacked any adornment. The ribbon didn’t suit her coloring, and although he couldn’t claim to be an expert on feminine apparel, the frock seemed rather lackluster for such a grand affair.
Another of Adelinda’s cast-offs?
As he closed the tinder box, Jules canted his head.
He couldn’t recall ever seeing Jemmah wearing anything new. And yet her sister always appeared perfumed and bejeweled, attired in the first stare of fashion. Such blatant favoritism wasn’t uncommon amongst the elite, nor did it shock him nearly as much as appall.
He, too, was his mother’s least favorite child, but by all the candle nubs in England, if he ever had children—in the very distant future—they’d not know the kind of rejection and pain he and Jemmah had experienced because of their parents’ partiality.
He’d love and treat his offspring equally as any good and decent parent should.
“Ah, Your Grace, you’re surprised to see me, I think.”