The Queen's Most Dangerous Match - Anthony Bridgerton

Queen Charlotte did not believe in coincidence.
She believed in design.
From her throne, she observed the ballroom as a general might survey a battlefield-every movement calculated, every whisper a weapon, every marriage a maneuver. The ton believed themselves clever, believed love and scandal ruled the Season. They were wrong.
Power did.
That was why she had summoned her niece from across the sea.
Princess Amara Charlotte Obeng stood now at the far end of the hall, her presence subtle yet unmistakable, like the hush before a storm. She wore no diamonds yet-only gold worked delicately against her dark skin, an echo of her homeland. Her posture was flawless, her expression serene, but Queen Charlotte knew better.
Amara was brilliant. Observant. Dangerous.
And across the room stood a man who had no idea his life was about to be dismantled.
Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount Bridgerton, pillar of English nobility, champion of duty, enemy of love.
Perfect.
The Queen's lips curved, ever so slightly.
Let the game begin