She was a bewitching young girl, that pretty Polly Marsh, and she knew it. She also knew that beauty could be her passport into the castles where she had always known she belonged. So she set her sights for a duke and joined the firm of Westerman's as a stenographer. Surely one of that noble family would notice her and then all of her dreams would come true! The trouble with Pretty Polly Marsh was that she just didn't know her place. But others did, and were only too happy to remind her that dashing Lord Peter was merely playing at love when he appeared to be paying her court. The duchess was beside herself. Peter's brother, the starchy Marquis of Wollerton, was desperate to pry Peter from Polly's side. But Polly was determined to have Peter, and her dream. Peter wouldn't betray her, would he?
She had dared to turn a cold shoulder on London's prize catch. She was a precocious American upstart who thought beauty, brains, and bravery were enough to conquer London society. Well, he'd show her! Nobody publicly (or privately!) spurned Lord David Manley, the most eligible bachelor in town. He was determined that soon she'd be trembling in his arms, desperately in love with the man she had dared to mock. David Manley always got his way, and Miss Molly Maguire presented a challenge he couldn't resist! But Lord David had never met anyone quite like this headstrong heiress who fought like the devil, looked like an angel, and had all of London society dangling on a string.
Poor Ginny Bloggs! She had inherited a fortune, a magnificent country estate, and her benefactor's disgruntled relatives - a quartet of querulous schemers - who were horrified to find themselves suddenly at the mercy of a low, common girl; a total stranger - the coal merchant's daughter! Poor Ginny Bloggs! The handsome Lord Gerald de Fremney himself had pledged to keep the more unruly relatives in line. He thought he understood thoroughly modern women. Her reluctant guardians thought they understood society. Such was Ginny Bloggs; as delicate as a china doll, as bold as brass. She understood them all, and now she was going to teach them all what it meant to be a lady!
The Beast; that was what they called her. With her plump body and rough tomboy ways, she felt more like a clown. It was hopeless. Poor penniless Tilly could only sit among the chaperons as a paid companion to the spiteful Lady Aileen. The best she could do was sit; sit and dream. But suddenly Phillip, Marquess of Heppleford, the most eligible bachelor of all - decided he wanted her for himself, to be his wife, and they were married. His intent was to keep his freedom, fulfill the conditions of his father's wil