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I’m looking forward to learning more about the next three books in this great series. Here are books 4-6! Welcome, Meredith Bond and The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society!

When love is a gamble, place your bets on the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society.

The women of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society gather every Wednesday for an on-going game of whist, but while most people play cards for money, the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society play for secrets. The person with the fewest number of points at the end of a game must divulge her deepest, darkest secret. Not a word of anyone’s secret may be shared outside of the group, but that doesn’t mean that the ladies can’t offer assistance to anyone who needs it—and they all do at one point or another.

This nine-book Regency romance series, spread out over three seasons, is filled with laughter, hidden identities, private fears, adorable children, secrets, and the sweetest Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Duchess.

Each book features one of the eight members. Book number nine will feature Joshua Powell, Viscount Wickford, owner of Powell’s Club for the Refined Gentleman. Every book is a stand-alone novel with at least one central romance and a secondary second-chance romance featuring an older couple.

Love is what the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society does best. Whether it’s helping their own members or those close to them, the women of the Wagering Whist Society find that they’ve gotten quite good at helping couples arrange their cards just right.

A Trick of Mirrors
~March 22, 1807~

Beatrice Kendrick crouched on the floor of the carriage as it moved through the streets of London. It wasn’t easy to keep her balance in the moving vehicle and pull on the maid’s cloak at the same time, but somehow, she managed. She pulled up the hood covering her tell-tale red hair and ducked her head down so no one could see her face, identical to her sister’s, who was sitting and staring out the window. They moved ever closer to their aunt’s Mayfair home where they would be staying for the Season.

Bee carefully sat back on the seat next to her maid, Annie, making sure to keep her head down, so her hood wouldn’t be dislodged. They couldn’t risk anyone even getting a glimpse of her.

As planned, Bee arranged herself so she couldn’t be seen when the door to the carriage opened outside of Lord and Lady Blakemore’s home. Her sister Bel and Annie got down, making a huge fuss over the beauty of the house and the number of footmen pouring out of the house to take in all of Bel’s luggage.

The door to the coach opened again, causing Bee to hold her breath and scrunch down even farther into the tiniest ball against the side.

“Ach, ye don’t need to check inside the carriage,” Bee heard the coachman scold someone. “Miss Kendrick only had a luncheon basket in there with her, and I’ll bring it round to the kitchen meself.”

The door closed again, and Bee allowed herself to breathe. If she were caught now, their entire plan would be jeopardized. Months of arguing back and forth between her and Bel, weeks of Bee trying to convince her sister that she did, in fact, need to be there with her in London and that, no, simply relaying information by mail about the men she met would not be enough. Days of swearing to her sister that she truly had no desire to subvert Bel’s debut into society for her own ends. She was going to happily enter society on her own the following year just as their parents had planned, but there was absolutely no way that Bee was going to allow her sister, with her cavalier attitude toward rules and proper behavior when she got an idea in her head, to come to London on her own.

Bee loved her twin sister, but they could not risk Bel getting into scrapes the way she did when they went out to parties and assemblies at home. She had to find a husband this season, so Bee could be presented next year. Their parents had been very clear that they could only afford to present one girl at a time. But no amount of love could change the fact that Bel was, well, flighty and not always the best judge of character.

It had taken months for Bee to show her sister this truth and weeks for her to agree that maybe it would be best if Bee were there to actually meet the men she might consider marrying. And now the time was at hand for them to put this plan into action, and it was vital that no one knew both twins were there. Bee could not risk getting caught. God only knew if they would get this opportunity again, were she to be found now.

A Bid for Romance
~March 26, 1807~

Margaret started to return to the sitting room after seeing her sister-in-law off when she suddenly noticed the footman. She stopped. She didn’t recall ever seeing him before. She would most certainly have noticed such an Adonis.

All footmen were easy on the eyes. It was one trait which all employers looked for, although Margaret did have to admit that the duchess wasn’t especially particular in that regard. But this man… He was tall, blond, and blue-eyed, and the way he filled out his livery made it difficult for Margaret to keep her eyes above his shoulders—his very, broad shoulders. Somehow, they kept straying down his long regal neck, broad chest, narrow hips, and well-turned calves encased in white stockings.

Her eyes flew back up to his face. He’d raised an eyebrow at her inspection of him and seemed to be trying very hard not to smile. Just before her gaze met his, he quickly reverted to staring blankly over her shoulder as a good servant should. Margaret felt her face heat with embarrassment.

“Are you new?” she asked the man. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall seeing you before.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, in a soft baritone with a refined accent. What footman had such impeccable diction? “I started the day before yesterday, but today is my first day at the front door, er, the butler insisted. I believe he doesn’t like taking the position?”

“It’s difficult for him with his lame leg,” she explained briefly. “What is your name?” she asked because she always liked to address people by their correct names. She knew some people simply called all their footman the same name so they didn’t have to actually notice who was serving them, but Margaret thought that a horrid practice.

“James, my lady. My friends call me Jamie,” he added.

“James,” she said with a smile—she didn’t dare presume friendship. “It’s very nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy working here.”

“Thank you, my lady.” He bowed slightly and continued to stare over her shoulder.

How odd it was that Margaret wished he would look at her instead. She shook off her fancy and turned to go back upstairs.

~*~

Jamie watched Lady Margaret slowly float up the stairs, her filmy sprigged white muslin gown flowing around her. Why didn’t he have his sketchbook when he needed it? On the other hand, he didn’t know if he would be allowed to have a sketchbook while on front door duty. He’d have to ask.

But my word, she was even more beautiful up close than he’d realized.

Mr. Holton had pointed the young lady out as he had been given a tour of the house and informed of all the rules and expectations. Holton had informed them that Lady Margaret was the duchess’s charge for the season and a guest in the house. She was to be treated with the utmost respect, they’d been told, as if she were a duchess herself, which made sense since she wasn’t too far off, being the sister to one.

Seeing Lady Margaret in passing through a doorway and having her stand directly in front of him couldn’t have been more different than sketching with a pencil to using a paint brush to create a portrait. Seeing her at a distance she could have been dull, one-dimensional, but in person, face-to-face, she was vibrant, beautiful, soft and—what really surprised Jamie—kind.

An Affair of Hearts
~April 21, 1807~

Everything sparkled. The chandeliers with their crystal droplets reflected the candlelight, the gilt-edged mirrors surrounded by wall sconces echoed the light, even the guests dressed in their finest glittered, laughed, talked, and danced with brilliance. Elizabeth, Countess St. Vincent, sighed happily as she turned to her friend and hostess for this evening’s soirée. “You have done such a magnificent job this evening, Lydia,” she said. Even Lydia was looking quite sparkling this evening with her bright green eyes shining, the color picking up the pretty green embroidery edging her pale blue gown.

“Indeed, Lady Welles, you absolutely have outdone yourself.” Mrs. Aldridge, standing on Lydia’s other side, agreed.

“Thank you,” Lydia said, giving them both a bright smile. “Elizabeth, your dress this evening is lovely.”

“Oh, thank you. It is one I brought with me from the countryside, but I think it’s holding up quite well here in London,” Elizabeth said. She’d only been in town for a month, but already she had a good feeling about this season, her very first since her disastrous come-out six years ago.

She had, of course, also dressed to impress, just like everyone else. Despite the fact she was still in half-mourning for her departed husband, her gown of pale violet with deeper purple ribbons and lace was in the latest fashion, even if the décolletage was a little lower than what she normally wore. It was still quite conservative for a lady of her age and stature, but Elizabeth, with her full figure, had always gone for a more demure look. Her dark brown hair was carefully tamed into a complicated coiffure with purple ribbons woven through and a few curls allowed to rest gently over her shoulder.

“I beg your pardon, Lady St. Vincent?” a footman asked, approaching Elizabeth.

“Yes?”

“Lord St. Vincent has requested your presence in the library,” he said with a slight bow.

“Oh. Tell him I’ll be right there,” she said.

“Is everything all right, do you suppose?” Mrs. Aldridge asked with a look of concern marring her motherly countenance. She was a kind, well-respected older lady who was a member of a very exclusive club known as the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society, along with Lydia and six other prominent ladies of the ton.

Elizabeth didn’t know exactly what the ladies of the Whist Society did—they claimed they merely played cards together every Wednesday afternoon, but so far their influence seemed to be quite significant and growing. From what Elizabeth understood, they were responsible for no fewer than six prominent matches among the ton, including that of Elizabeth’s own stepson, who had just requested her presence. They also held an annual party to raise funds for the people of the Rookeries that earned a significant amount as well as being one of The Events of the season.

The ladies of the Wagering Whist Society were, in short, what just about every woman of the ton desired to be—well-respected, well-known, influential. They made a positive impact, helping those who needed it without asking for anything in return. If they had been accepting additional members, Elizabeth would have been first in line. As it was, she was proud to call its members her friends.

“I can’t imagine what St. Vincent wants. I’ll just go and find out. If you’ll excuse me?” Elizabeth gave the two ladies a nod and then went off to find the library.

Check out this collection by Meredith, too! Gotta love Regency Romance!