The Players: Darian Hunter, Duke of Wolfingham: legendary rake and notorious bachelor Mariah Beecham, Countess of Carlisle: society's scandalous widow and secret agent of the crown The Stage: A notoriously debauched house party The Scene: Forced to pose as lovers, Darian and Mariah must work together to stop an assassination plot The Twist: As the shocking and oh-so-sensual games play out around them, the romantic ruse becomes all too real. And the tantalizing temptation to indulge their every desire becomes overwhelming… Dangerous Dukes Rakes about town Carole Mortimer was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and seventy books for Harlequin Mills and Boon®. Carole has six sons, Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’ 'Would you care to repeat your remark, Wolfing-ham, for I fear the music and loud chatter must have prevented me from hearing you correctly the first time?' Darian did not need to look down, into the face of the woman with whom he was dancing, to know Mariah Beecham, widowed Countess of Carlisle, had heard him correctly the first time; her displeasure was more than obvious, in both the frosty tone of her voice and the stiffness of her elegantly clad body. 'I doubt that very much, madam,' he drawled just as icily, as the two of them continued to smile for the benefit of any watching them as they moved about the dance floor, in perfect sequence with the other couples dancing. 'Nevertheless, I will gladly repeat my statement, in that it is my wish that you immediately cease to encourage my brother in this ridiculous infatuation he seems to have developed for you.' 'The implication being that you believe me to have been deliberately encouraging those attentions in the first place?' His hostess for the evening arched one haughty blonde brow over eyes of an exquisite and unusual shade of turquoise blue. A colour that Darian had previously only associated with the Mediterranean Sea, on a clear summer's day. Darian had long been aware of this lady's presence in society, of course, first as the Earl of Carlisle's much younger wife and, for these past five years, as that deceased gentleman's very wealthy and scandalous widow. But this was the first occasion upon which Darian had spent any length of time in her company. Having done so, he now perfectly understood his younger brother's infatuation with the countess; she was, without doubt, a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her hair was the gold of ripened corn, her complexion as pale and smooth as alabaster; a creamy brow, softly curving cheeks, her neck long, with elegantly plump shoulders shown to advantage by the low decolletage of her gown. Those unusual turquoise eyes were surrounded by thick dark lashes, her nose small and pert above generous—and sensual—lips and the ampleness of her breasts revealed above a silk gown of the same deep turquoise colour as her eyes. No, Darian could not fault his brother's taste in women, for Mariah Beecham was a veritable diamond, in regard to both her beauty and those voluptuous breasts. Unfortunately, she was also a widow aged four and thirty to Anthony's only four and twenty, and mother to a daughter of seventeen. Indeed her daughter, the Lady Christina Beecham, was newly out this Season, and so also present this evening. She also bore a startling physical resemblance to her mother. The young Lady Christina Beecham did not, however, as yet have the same scandalous reputation as her mother. It was that reputation that had prompted Darian's recent concerns in regard to his brother's future happiness and for him to have uncharacteristically decided to interfere in the association. He would have understood if Anthony had merely wished to discreetly share the lady's bed for a few weeks, or possibly even months. He accepted that all young gentlemen indulged in these sexual diversions—indeed, he had done so himself for many years at that age—for their own enjoyment and in order to gain the physical experience considered necessary for the marriage bed. Unfortunately, this lady could never be called discreet. And Anthony had made it more than plain, in their conversation two days ago, that he did not regard Mariah Beecham as his mere mistress. As Anthony's older brother and only relation, Darian could not allow him to entertain such a ruinous marriage. As Anthony's guardian, for at least another few months and so still in control of Anthony's considerable fortune, Darian considered it to be nothing more than an unsuitable infatuation. His efforts so far to dissuade Anthony from continuing in his pursuit of this woman had been to no avail; his brother could be as stubborn as Darian when he had decided on a course of