The catch of the Season is dead, and he is standing in Aunt Drusilla’s front passage, deeply put out and visible to no one.
No one, that is, except Lady Cordelia Vane and a pug named Mr. Beazley, who wags at the empty air with total conviction.
Felix Carrow had everything Cordelia does not: charm, a fortune from a half-forgotten uncle in Calcutta, and a place at the center of every room. Now he is a ghost who cannot remember who poisoned him. He knows only that it was no accident, and that the woman London never bothered to notice is the one person who can prove it.
Cordelia has spent three Seasons perfecting invisibility. From the edge of the ballroom she has become an archive: who is in debt and to whom, whose jewels are paste, whose smile is new this year. She knows everything about people who have no idea she exists.
Which is a problem, because society has already chosen its culprit — an inconvenient spinster with the right initial. Her initial.
To clear her name and catch a killer, Cordelia will have to do the one thing she has spent years avoiding. She will have to be seen.
A clean, witty Regency whodunit with a slow-burning romance, a scene-stealing pug, and a heroine whose greatest weakness is about to become her sharpest weapon.
The Lady Sees… Mysteries begin here: a clean, witty Regency whodunit where every case arrives with a ghost attached.