The Earl's Iron Warrant (The Dukes' Pact #6) by Kate Archer. Historical Romance Release & ARC Review.

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An Icy Lady and an Implacable Lord...

Charles Battersea, Earl of Dalton and heir to the Duke of Glastonburg, is the last holdout among the six young heirs who have been pressured to marry by way of the Dukes’ Pact. This surprises precisely nobody, especially not himself. He has unaccountably lost his friend, Grayson, to Miss Dell, but if he is forced to tow the bachelorhood line alone, so be it. He has his reasons for avoiding marriage, and they are not what people imagine.

Daisy Danworth, daughter of the dreaded Lord Childress, presents a cool and confident face to the world, as would anybody who’d grown up in such a house. It’s been a matter of survival, and she and her companion, Mrs. Jellops, have survived. Daisy has a certain long-held plan in mind for her future—a charming house in Brighton where she can finally be free. Free of society, and especially, free of men.

A sudden turn of events tosses everybody’s plans topsy-turvy and throws Daisy and Charles unwillingly together. Through managing servants, murderous lotharios, and a missing crown jewel, the cold Lord Dalton and the frosty Miss Danworth might just begin to thaw.

As for their friend, Lord Burke, it seems he’s been harboring a secret all along...

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Charles Battersea,  Earl of Dalton came back from the war a changed man.  He never wants to marry,  no matter what pressure his father puts on him. Even his friends don't know his reasons.  

Daisy Danworth feels only relief when her father dies.  He was a terrible man who mixed with other awful men.  Happily the guardian she will now have is a much better person.  Only one more year and she can set up house with her own money and live a peaceful quiet life.  

Six devious Dukes made a pact to get their sons married and have children to carry on their lines.  

A very amusing series filled with great characters.  

I loved it.  

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By the time I was eleven, my Irish Nana and I had formed a book club of sorts. On a timetable only known to herself, Nana would grab her blackthorn walking stick and steam down to the local Woolworth’s. There, she would buy the latest Barbara Cartland romance, hurry home to read it accompanied by viciously strong wine, (Wild Irish Rose, if you’re wondering) and then pass the book on to me. Though I was not particularly interested in real boys yet, I was very interested in the gentlemen in those stories—daring, bold, and often enraging and unaccountable. After my Barbara Cartland phase, I went on to Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen and so many other gifted authors blessed with the ability to bring the Georgian and Regency eras to life.

  

  I would like nothing more than to time travel back to the Regency (and time travel back to my twenties as long as we’re going somewhere) to take my chances at a ball. Who would take the first? Who would escort me into supper? What sort of meaningful looks would be exchanged? I would hope, having made the trip, to encounter a gentleman who would give me a very hard time. He ought to be vexatious in the extreme, and worth every vexation, to make the journey worthwhile. 

  

I most likely won’t be able to work out the time travel gambit, so I will content myself with writing stories of adventure and romance in my beloved time period. There are lives to be created, marvelous gowns to wear, jewels to don, instant attractions that inevitably come with a difficulty, and hearts to break before putting them back together again. In traditional Regency fashion, my stories are clean—the action happens in a drawing room, rather than a bedroom.  

  

As I muse over what will happen next to my H and h, and wish I were there with them, I will occasionally remind myself that it’s also nice to have a microwave, Netflix, cheese popcorn, and steaming hot showers. 

  

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