Bridgerton meets Agatha Christie in Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Lord, a dazzling first entry in a captivating new Regency-era mystery series with a feminist spin from Celeste Connally.

Forced institutionalization, confinement, emotional abuse, misogyny.

London, 1815. Lady Petra Forsyth, daughter of the Earl of Holbrook, has made a shocking proclamation. After losing her beloved fiancé in an accident three years earlier, she announces in front of London’s loosest lips that she will never marry. A woman of independent means—and rather independent ways—Petra sees no reason to cede her wealth and freedom to any man now that the love of her life is gone. Instead, she plans to continue enjoying the best of society without any expectations.

But when ballroom gossip suggests that a longtime friend has died of a fit due to her “melancholia” while in the care of a questionable physician, Petra vows to use her status to dig deeper—uncovering a private asylum where men pay to have their wives and daughters locked away, or worse. Just as Petra has reason to believe her friend is alive, a shocking murder proves more danger is afoot than she thought. And the more determined Lady Petra becomes in uncovering the truth, the more her own headstrong actions and desire for independence are used against her, putting her own freedom—and possibly her life—in jeopardy.

Don't just take our word for it...

“Fast-paced, witty….For fans of headstrong women sleuths and readers of Deanna Raybourn and Kerry Greenwood.”
– Library Journal (starred review)

“Delightful…Petra is marvelously drawn—an easy-to-love, instantly memorable heroine—and Connally equips her with a brisk, page-turning adventure. This is catnip for historical suspense fans.”
– Publishers Weekly

“Witty and wise, a delightful feminist romp. Connally’s series serves as a reminder to never settle, that what’s right and what’s easy are rarely the same.”
– Jessica Fellowes, New York Times bestselling author

Taste the very first page

“May I remind you, my lady, that daughters of earls are not normally dressed by their lady’s maids amongst the saddles and bridles of a harness room.”

Lady Petra Forsyth, seated on a large wooden trunk painted with the Earl of Holbrook’s coat of arms, held out her booted foot and wiggled it for Annie to grasp. “Yes, but at least this time I did not walk through muck in the stable yard first.”

Annie took the heel of the knee-length boot with both hands, pulling with an indulgent roll of her eyes. “A small consolation, my lady. You do smell mightily of horses.”

“This is to be expected after one has been on a horse all day, is it not?” Petra replied while holding out her other boot, the pair of which once belonged to her older brother, Alexander. As had the buckskin breeches still hugging her legs, the black frock coat with gold buttons she had shrugged out of moments earlier, and the frilled white shirt and cravat, both now loosened at the neck.

“And I would still be on my horse if it were not for my uncle,” she added. “To believe he arrived four hours earlier than scheduled! Disagreeable man.” Then, as Annie pulled her second boot, Petra’s eyes widened. “But, oh, my poor papa! His injured ankle continues to pain him, and now he will have Uncle Tobias strutting about to add to his vexation.”