{"product_id":"a-study-in-scarlet-women-isbn-9780425281406","title":"A Study in Scarlet Women","description":"\u003cb\u003e\"I cannot recommend this series enough.\"\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003e#1\u003ci\u003e New York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author Ali Hazelwood\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAN NPR BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR\u003ci\u003e • USA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Sherry Thomas turns the Victorian detective story upside-down by reimagining Sherlock Holmes as a woman in the first novel of a riveting mystery series.\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith her inquisitive mind, Charlotte Holmes has never felt comfortable with the demureness expected of the fairer sex in upper class society. But even she never thought that she would become a social pariah, an outcast fending for herself on the mean streets of London. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the city is struck by a trio of unexpected deaths and suspicion falls on her sister and her father, Charlotte is desperate to find the true culprits and clear the family name. She’ll have help from friends new and old—a kind-hearted widow, a police inspector, and a man who has long loved her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut in the end, it will be up to Charlotte, under the assumed name Sherlock Holmes, to challenge society’s expectations and match wits against an unseen mastermind.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eA Study in Scarlet Women\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Thomas’s use of language, the way she uses gender reversal to conceal revelations, and the intricacies of her plotting mean that I will rediscover more things to relish in \u003ci\u003eA Study in Scarlet Women \u003c\/i\u003eeach time I reread it.”—NPR.com\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Clever historical details and a top-shelf mystery add to the winning appeal of this first volume in the ‘Lady Sherlock’ series. A must-read for fans of historical mysteries.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“RITA Award–winning romance writer Thomas has come up with a completely new, brilliantly conceived take on the iconic detective. She not only offers some clever changes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s cherished cast of characters, she also delivers a plot worthy of the master at his best.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Clever and absorbing. Thomas’s gorgeous prose and expert characterizations shine in this new incarnation of Sherlock Holmes. Readers will wait with baited breath to discover how Thomas will skillfully weave in each aspect of the Sherlockian canon, and devour the pages to learn how the mystery unfolds.”—Anna Lee Huber, National Bestselling Author of the Lady Darby Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Gender bending is just the first sign that unusual happenings are afoot in this origin story for a revamped Sherlock Holmes series by bestselling author Thomas...There is also a tantalizing, slow-burn love story between Holmes and a longtime friend befitting Thomas' skills as a romance novelist....The ground has been laid well for future incidents in the professional and intimate life of Charlotte Holmes.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Author Sherry Thomas didn’t just insert Charlotte into Sherlock’s area of expertise, she made a character completely different from the well-known man. Cute and blonde, Charlotte doesn’t have Sherlock’s scorn for everyone. And because she is a lady in Victorian England, Charlotte has to be creative in her investigation in order to preserve the illusion of Sherlock Holmes to the man on the street and the police. The various characters introduced are quite interesting and the plotlines are great. This is the first in the new Lady Sherlock series, and if this is any clue, Charlotte and her continuing adventures will be thrilling to read.”—\u003ci\u003eSuspense Magazine\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sherry Thomas is a master of her craft, and \u003ci\u003eA Study in Scarlet Women\u003c\/i\u003e is an unqualified success: brilliantly executed, beautifully written, and magnificently original—I want the next volume now!”—Tasha Alexander, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling Author of\u003ci\u003e A Terrible Beauty\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMore Praise for Sherry Thomas and her Novels\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I AM RIVETED. The Lady Sherlock series is so smart and clever and witty.”–Julia Quinn, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Bridgerton series\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sherry Thomas has done the impossible and crafted a fresh, exciting new version of Sherlock Holmes. From the carefully plotted twists to the elegant turns of phrase, \u003ci\u003eA Study in Scarlet Women\u003c\/i\u003e is a splendid addition to Holmes’s world. This book is everything I hoped it would be, and the next adventure cannot come too soon!”—Deanna Raybourn, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sherry Thomas…is a rebel, a rule-breaker, and, above all, a romantic…[Her] writing is nothing short of a revelation.”—Lisa Kleypas, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thomas is known for a lush style…[and] transporting prose even as [she] delivers on heat and emotion and a well-earned happily ever after.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ravishingly sinful, intelligent, and addictive.”—Eloisa James, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller \u003cb\u003eSherry Thomas\u003c\/b\u003e is one of the most acclaimed historical romance authors writing today, winning the RITA Award two years running and appearing on innumerable “Best of the Year” lists, including those of \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, Dear Author, and All About Romance. Her novels include \u003ci\u003eMy Beautiful Enemy\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Luckiest Lady in London\u003c\/i\u003e. \u003ci\u003eA Study in Scarlet Women\u003c\/i\u003e is the first in the Lady Sherlock Series.***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof*** \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCopyright © 2016 Sherry Thomas\u003cp\u003ePrologue\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDevonshire, England\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e1886\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHad anyone told the Honorable Harrington Sackville that the investigation into his death would make the name Sherlock Holmes known throughout the land, Mr. Sackville would have scoffed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe had never heard of Sherlock Holmes. But more importantly, he despised the idea of death. Of his death, to be precise—others could die as they wished.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe loathed old age almost as much: that long, vile decline into helplessness halted only by the final breath, falling like a guillotine blade.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd yet his reflection in the mirror made it increasingly difficult to tell himself that he was still a young man. He remained a fit man, a handsome man, but the skin beneath his jaw sagged. Deep grooves cut into the sides of his mouth. Even his eyelids drooped, heavy from the passage of time.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFear hooked through him, cold and sharp. Every man was afraid of something. For him, death had long loomed as the ultimate terror. A darkness with fangs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe turned away from the mirror—and the unwelcome thoughts that always simmered these days a scant inch beneath the surface. It was summer. The glow of twilight suffused the house. From his perch on the headlands, the bay blazed with the flame of the setting sun. A hint of salt fragranced the breeze that meandered in; the top note of that perfumed air was tuberose, bulbs of which he had imported from Grasse, in the south of France.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut a storm was coming; inky clouds gathered at the edge of the sky . . .\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe inhaled deeply. No, he must not let his mind wander to shadowy places. Recent weeks had been difficult—the events in London particularly distressing—but in time things would improve. He still had many good years left to relish life, and to laugh at death and its still distant grasp.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo premonitions crossed his mind that death was to have him by morning.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut have him it would—and the last laugh.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLondon\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn the day Mr. Harrington Sackville met his darkness with fangs, certain parties in the know were bracing for—and eagerly anticipating—a major scandal involving the youngest member of the Holmes family.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Ingram Ashburton did not share in their anticipation. The idea that such a catastrophe could come to pass had haunted him for days. He did not yet know that Holmes was already doomed, but a sense of dread had been growing in him, a tumorlike weight on his lungs.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe stared at the envelope on the desk before him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eMr. Sherlock Holmes,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eGeneral Post Office,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eSt. Martin’s Le Grand,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eLondon\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAny idiot could see the frustration that seethed with every stroke of the pen—at several places the nib had nearly torn through the linen paper.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe writing on the note next to the envelope was equally agitated.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eHolmes,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eDon’t.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eAnd if you must, not with Roger Shrewsbury. You will regret it relentlessly.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eFor once in your life, listen to me.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe dropped his forehead into his left palm. It would be no use. Holmes would do as Holmes pleased, carried along on that blitheness born of extraordinary ability and favorable circumstances.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eUntil disaster strikes\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou don’t need to let it happen\u003c\/i\u003e, said a voice inside him. You\u003ci\u003e step in. \u003c\/i\u003eYou\u003ci\u003e give Holmes what Holmes wants.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eAnd then what? Then I carry on and pretend it never happened?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe stared out of the open window. His unimpeded view of the sky appeared as if seen through a lens that had been smudged with a grimy finger—a polluted blue, a fine day for London. Peals of irrepressible mirth rose from the small park below—his children’s laughter, a sound that would have brought a smile to his face on any other day.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe picked up his pen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eDo not do anything without first consulting me again.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003ePlease.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWas he acquiescing? Was he jettisoning all caution—and all principle as well?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe sealed the unsigned letter in the envelope and walked out of his book-lined study, envelope in pocket. He was scheduled to give an archeological lecture in the evening. But first he wanted to spend some time with his daughter and son, rambunctious children at the peak of their happy innocence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter that he would decide whether to post the letter or to consign it to the fire, like the dozen others that had preceded it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe front door opened and in came his wife.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Afternoon, madam,” he said politely.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“My lord.” She nodded, a strange little smile on her face. “I see you have not heard about what happened to your favorite lady.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“My favorite lady is my daughter. Is anything the matter with her?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe kept his voice cool, but he couldn’t stop the hair on the back of his neck from standing up: Lady Ingram was not talking about their child.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Lucinda is well. I refer to . . .” Her lips curled with disdain. “I refer to Holmes. \u003ci\u003eYour\u003c\/i\u003e Holmes.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“How dare you humiliate me this way?” Mrs. Shrewsbury rained down blows on her husband. “How dare you?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe painted French fan, folded up, made for a surprisingly potent weapon—a cross between a bolt of silk and a police baton. Roger Shrewsbury whimpered.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe didn’t understand the way her mind worked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVery well, he had committed an unforgivable error: The night before he’d been so drunk he mistook his wife for Mimi, his mistress, and told the wife what he was going to do this afternoon with Charlotte Holmes. But if Mrs. Shrewsbury hadn’t wanted him to deflower Miss Holmes, why hadn’t she smacked him then and there and forbidden him to do anything of the sort? Or she could have gone ’round to Miss Holmes’s and slapped her for not having a higher regard for her hymen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInstead she had mustered a regiment of sisters, cousins, and friends, set his \u003ci\u003emother\u003c\/i\u003e at the helm of the entire enterprise, and stormed the Bastille just as he settled into Miss Holmes. So how could she accuse \u003ci\u003ehim\u003c\/i\u003e of humiliating \u003ci\u003eher\u003c\/i\u003e, when she was the one who had made sure that a good dozen other women saw her husband in flagrante delicto?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe knew better than to give voice to his thoughts. After twenty-six years as Lady Shrewsbury’s son and three as Anne Shrewsbury’s husband, he’d learned that he was always wrong. The less he said, the better.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe missus continued to hit him. He wrapped his arms around his head, made himself as small as possible, and tried to disappear into a nice memory, a time and a place in which he wasn’t a bounder twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLady Shrewsbury frowned mightily at the young woman who sat opposite her in the brougham. Charlotte Holmes was still, her face pale but composed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEerily composed, given she was now ruined beyond repair.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo composed that Lady Shrewsbury, who had been prepared for any amount of hysterical sobbing and frantic pleas, was beginning to feel rattled—a sensation she hadn’t experienced in years.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLady Shrewsbury had been the one to throw a sheet over the girl. She had then ordered her son to go home with his wife, and the rest of the women to disperse. Miss Holmes had not trembled in a corner, her hands over her face. Nor had she stared numbly at the floor. Instead she had watched the goings-on as if she were a mere bystander, one whose own fate had not in the least taken an unthinkable turn. As Roger was shoved out by his wife, Miss Holmes glanced at him, without anger, loathing, or any reflection of his helplessness.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt had been a sympathetic and apologetic look, the kind the ringleader of a gang of unruly children might give one of her followers, after she had got the latter into unlimited trouble.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLady Shrewsbury had fully expected this bravado to disintegrate once the others had gone. She was famous for her sternness. Roger, whenever he found himself alone with her, perspired even when she hadn’t planned to inquire into what he had been doing with himself of late.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut her formidableness had no effect on Charlotte Holmes. When the gaggle of eyewitnesses departed to spread the salacious story in drawing rooms all over London, Miss Holmes, instead of dissolving into tears, dressed and ordered a considerable tea service.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen, under Lady Shrewsbury’s increasingly incredulous gaze, she proceeded to polish off a plate of plum cake, a plate of cherry tartlets, \u003ci\u003eand\u003c\/i\u003e a plate of sardine and toast. All without saying a single word, or even acknowledging Lady Shrewsbury’s presence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLady Shrewsbury controlled her vexation. Silence was one of her greatest weapons and she would not be goaded into abandoning that strategic advantage. Alas, her magnificent silence had no effect on Charlotte Holmes, who dined as if she were a queen and Lady Shrewsbury a lowly lackey, not worthy of even a spare glance.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen the girl was ready to leave, she simply walked out, forcing Lady Shrewsbury to catch up. Again, as if she weren’t a strict moral guardian escorting a fallen woman to her consequences, but a simpleminded maid scampering behind her mistress.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe silence continued in the brougham. Miss Holmes studied the carriages that clogged the street—shiny, lacquered town coaches jostling for space amidst long queues of hansom cabs. From time to time her gaze fell on Lady Shrewsbury and Lady Shrewsbury had the distinct sensation that of the two of them, Miss Holmes considered Lady Shrewsbury the far stranger specimen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” she snapped, unable to stand the silence another second.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“For myself, no,” Charlotte Holmes said softly. “But I hope you will not be too harsh on Roger. He is not to blame for this.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInspector Robert Treadles of the Metropolitan Police always enjoyed an outing to Burlington House, especially to attend Lord Ingram’s lectures. They had met via a shared ardor for archeology—Lord Ingram had sponsored Treadles’s entry into the London Society of Antiquaries, in fact.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut this evening his friend was not himself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo the casual observer, his lordship would seem to command the Society of Antiquaries’s meeting room, thorough in his knowledge, eloquent in his presentation, and deft with a touch of dry humor—his comparison of the ancient family strife caused by variation in size and ornateness of each member’s jeweled brooches with the modern jealousy aroused by the handsomeness of a sibling’s new brougham drew peals of laughter from the audience.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo Inspector Treadles, however, Lord Ingram’s delivery had little of its usual élan. It was a struggle. A futile struggle, moreover: Sisyphus pushing that enormous boulder up the hill, knowing that it would roll away from him near the top, condemning him to start all over again, ad infinitum.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat could be the matter? Lord Ingram was the scion of a ducal family, an Old Etonian, and one of the finest polo players in the world. Of course Inspector Treadles knew that no one’s existence was perfect behind closed doors, but whatever turbulence Lord Ingram navigated in his private life had never before been made visible in his public demeanor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter the lecture, after the throng of admirers had dispersed, the two men met in a book-lined nook of the society’s soaring library.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’d hoped we could dine together, Inspector,” said Lord Ingram. “But I’m afraid I must take leave of you very soon.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTreadles was both disappointed and relieved—he didn’t think he would be able to offer Lord Ingram much consolation, in the latter’s current state.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I hope your family is well,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“They are, thank you. I’m obliged to pay a call on short notice, that is all.” Lord Ingram’s words were calm, yet there was a hollowness to his tone. “I trust we shall have the pleasure of a more leisurely meeting in the not too distant future.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Certainly, my lord.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInspector Treadles did not mean to delay his friend, but at that moment he remembered his other purpose for being at Burlington House this evening. “If it isn’t too much trouble, sir, may I ask you to convey a note to Holmes? I’m most grateful for his assistance on the Arkwright case and wrote a few lines to that effect.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I am afraid that would be impossible.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInspector Treadles almost took a step back at his friend’s expression: a flare of anger that bordered on wrath.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I understand that you are engaged this evening, my lord,” Treadles explained hesitantly. “My note requires no haste and needs be relayed only at your lordship’s convenience.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m afraid I didn’t make myself clear,” said Lord Ingram. All hints of rage had left his countenance. His eyes were blank, the set of his jaw hard. “I can’t—nor can anyone else—convey any notes to Holmes. Not anymore.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I—I don’t—that is—” Treadles stuttered. “Has something terrible happened?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Ingram’s jaw worked. “Yes, something terrible.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“When?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Today.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInspector Treadles blinked. “Is . . . is Holmes still alive?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Thank goodness. Then we haven’t lost him completely.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But we have,” said Lord Ingram, slowly, inexorably. “Holmes may be alive, but the fact remains that Holmes is now completely beyond my reach.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTreadles’s confusion burgeoned further, but he understood that no more details would be forthcoming. “I’m exceedingly sorry to hear that.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“As am I, to be the bearer of such news.” Lord Ingram’s voice was low, almost inaudible.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTreadles left Burlington House in a daze, hounded by dozens of unhappy conjectures. Had Holmes leaped from a perilous height armed with nothing but an unreliable parachute? Had he been conducting explosive experiments at home? Or had his brilliant but restless mind driven him to seduce the wrong woman, culminating in an illegal duel and a bullet lodged somewhere debilitating but not instantly lethal?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eWhat\u003c\/i\u003e had happened to the elusive and extraordinary Sherlock Holmes?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSuch a tragedy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSuch a waste.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSuch a shame.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304770982117,"sku":"NP9780425281406","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425281406.jpg?v=1767720830","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/a-study-in-scarlet-women-isbn-9780425281406","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}