Finding a worthy husband should be simple for three beautiful debutantes in Regency London. But the Somerset sisters have a way of making it delightfully complicated . . .   Violet Somerset has always preferred a library to a ballroom, but to please her grandmother she agreed to one London season. With nothing to show for it but heartbreak, she’s reconciled to spinsterhood. Until a notorious rogue known as the Devil of Dare requests an introduction to her timid, gentle youngest sister, Hyacinth. Violet will do anything to stop the match—even if it means posing as Hyacinth herself . . .   Nicholas Balfour, the Earl of Dare, is enjoying the life of a rake far too much to take a wife. But he must keep his promise to his grandmother. He’ll simply choose the meekest bride he can find, install her at his estate, then carry on as before. Hyacinth sounds perfect—until he discovers that her sweet demeanor hides the tongue of a viper and the mind of a bluestocking . . .   As Violet’s ruse threatens to unravel, however, she may find the tables turned. Soon she may have no choice but to tolerate her handsome fiancée—or fall in love with him . . . Anna Bradley is the author of The Sutherland Scandals and The Sutherland Sisters novels. A Maine native, she now lives near Portland, OR, where people are delightful and weird and love to read. She teaches writing and lives with her husband, two children, a variety of spoiled pets, and shelves full of books. Visit her website at www.annabradley.net. More or Less a Countess By Anna Bradley KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2018 Anna Bradley All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5161-0536-6 CHAPTER 1 London, November, 1817 Before she even crossed the threshold this evening, Violet Somerset knew there would be pain. She'd braced herself for gaping chest wounds, perhaps a severed limb or two, and a few pitiful but silent screams of agony. A graceful swoon would follow, and then the convulsive death throes of a love that had been hopeless from the start. She hadn't expected any of it would be pleasant, but she'd hoped it would be quick. It wasn't quick. It was death by a thousand cuts. Dreadful way to die. Unseemly. Bloody. Violet knew all about the blood. She'd seen a gruesome picture of death by a thousand cuts in an extraordinary book she'd found hidden in her grandmother's library. It was called ThePunishments of China1, and it was fascinating reading. A bit grisly, of course, and not at all proper for the eyes of an innocent young lady, but then nothing of any interest was. For her own part, Violet couldn't help but be intrigued by such an astonishingly creative approach to the thorny problem of crime and punishment. Still, death by a thousand cuts wasn't at all the kind of thing one wanted to see at a dinner party. Yet here she was, trapped between the fifth and final courses, and instead of a lovely pudding, Violet was facing a ghastly execution. "I'd hoped for a happy marriage, of course. Doesn't every young lady? But it's so much lovelier than I ever dreamed it would be. I never imagined my husband could be my friend, but that's just what Lord Derrick is to me. My best friend." Lady Honora looked splendid tonight, with her pink cheeks and her sweet brown eyes alight with happiness. A few weeks ago she'd become the Countess of Derrick, and if one could judge by her transcendent glow, her marriage suited her. Violet met her dear friend's luminous smile with what was no doubt a sickly grimace. "How wonderful, Honora. I couldn't be happier for you and Lord Derrick." Honora beamed at her and squeezed her limp fingers, but Violet could only manage a feeble twitch of her hand in return, rather like a bird with a broken wing trying to take flight. "I don't mean to say he's just my friend, of course. He's, ah ... well, he's much more than that. It's difficult to put into words, but it's rather like ... like a dream has come to life before my eyes, except it's better than a dream, because it's so much more vivid and colorful than I dared imagine." The fetching pink flush on Honora's cheeks deepened. "I daresay Iris understands. Is that how you feel about Lord Huntington, Iris? As if he's a dream come to life?" Violet's elder sister Iris, who was recently married herself, was seated across the table from Honora. "I — that is, of course Lord Huntington and I are quite ... we do enjoy each other's ..." Iris glanced between Honora and Violet, bit her lip, and lapsed into a pained silence. Poor Iris. It was a trifle awkward when one's sister was in love with one's best friend's husband. Violet roused herself to fill the uncomfortable pause. "It's truly wonderful, Honora. I couldn't be happier for you, and for Iris." I never should have come here. "I always thought Lord Derrick handsome." Honora cast a besotted glance at her husband, who was seated at the other end of the table. "But it's only since I married him that I think him the handsomest gentleman in