Dying for a Duke

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the start—*another* duke in peril? But *Dying for a Duke* disarmed me within chapters. Leech’s writing crackles with the kind of dry wit that makes you snort-laugh on the subway, especially when Skeffington-Fox dismantles a witness with nothing but a raised eyebrow and a well-timed pause. The mystery itself is cleverly constructed, though I’ll dock it half a point for a mid-act sag where the sleuthing feels a touch repetitive (how many poisoned madeleines can one family consume?). Still, the payoff is worth it—the final confrontation is so deliciously vicious, I replayed it twice. Marzilli’s narration is the secret weapon here. His Benedict Rutland isn’t just brooding; he’s *dangerously* charming, the kind of voice that could convince you to smuggle smuggled brandy past customs. The female characters, particularly Skeffington-Fox, avoid the shrillness that plagues so many historical romps—her voice is crisp, her sarcasm *palpable*. My only gripe? The production’s occasional uneven volume levels—some whispers get lost if you’re listening in a noisy space. But that’s a quibble. This is a mystery that respects its readers’ intelligence, a romance that doesn’t simper, and an audiobook that turns a 7-hour runtime into a binge. If you love your Regency with teeth, this one’s for you—just don’t blame me if you start side-eyeing your own relatives at dinner.