Pride and Prejudice and the Daughters Grimm ( from book on Amazon)

One by one and one and all, they stood enthralled, or titillated, or scandalously appalled. Yes, to a one they stood inside the magnificent Gold Room, staring at a most magnificent sight—and that sight wasn’t the golden harp or any golden eggs.  No, the particular golden goose cooked here was Baron Schortz. 

            Miss Rae Grimm was standing on an ottoman, her skirt over her head, and Baron Schortz’s head was half under that skirt, his hand coming out of her pantaloons.  Yes, the baron’s goose was royally cooked—as voiced by Prince Von Hanzen’s bout of pithy cursing.

            Greta, stunned, glanced from her sister and the baron to the handsome prince, still so shocked by the compromising situation that she took only a mild interest in the curse words she’d never heard before.

            Prince Gelb frowned, shaking his head in regret.  Rae would have made him a fine wife.  Alas, fate was against him—as well as Baron Schortz.

            Rae stared wide-eyed at the group before her, feeling more humiliated than she ever had.  This couldn’t be happening.  But it was.

            Swinging back around to face the music, and whatever else awaited him, Baron Schortz forced himself not to shudder.  Everyone was staring at a piece of lacy drawer in his hand, still attached to his cufflink, and his own pants were somewhat tented in front.

            “You cocksure son of a…”  Baroness Snowe trailed off, her chubby finger pointing, denouncing him as a lecherous bounder he wasn’t.    

            “Cockroach,” he tried to explain, but his mouth was dry and he felt a disaster of momentous proportions overtaking him. What a cockamamie mess.  He was cocked up for sure.

            “Ha!” the baroness snapped scornfully.  Secretly, she was delighted.  Her vain niece would marry the baron, and their social standings would be equal. Rae would soon be out of her hair.  And the marriage would be high enough—especially since Baron Schortz had blue Norwegian blood—to cause her sister, the Baroness Grimm, to see red.  Oh, happy days were here again.  Never was she more relieved that she had followed her instincts, gathering her companions and hurrying here.  She’d hoped that luck would be with her and she would catch the baron in a compromising position; but never had she thought she would find them in such a compromising position.  As compromising positions went, this one was deliciously wicked.