3.5 stars"She was seventeen years old and it was spring and the world on this misty Saturday in 1921, seemed a blessed place."This novel covers the story of first the mother and then the daughter, beginning in 1921 and ends somewhere in the mid 1960s. ----->>>Not a spoiler, this is in the first chapters. Sarah Griffith is brutally attacked by the local baronet (supposedly he's never been the same since The Great War) and with a bun now in the oven Sir Roger's wife makes arrangements for Sarah to go and live with distant cousins in New York. The Camerons treat Sarah as one of the family, but that comes with a hitch - matriarch Elizabeth is one of those controlling mother knows best types. Sarah wants to do something useful working in the family's art gallery, Elizabeth says no. Sarah wants to choose caretakers and schools for her child. Elizabeth has other ideas. Sarah doesn't want to be married, Elizabeth has other ideas. The second half of the book is focused on Sarah's daughter, and her choice of career, which of course don't suit well with *grandmother* Elizabeth's plans.It sounds boring, but it actually isn't. It's more of a low-key family saga-ish kind of book. Not the greatest book ever, but I was interested to keep on reading further. Now, about that blurb on the back jacket. I don't think I've come across one that is more misleading than this one, and then the title doesn't help much. In discussing where the blurb is wrong, I'm giving away more plot points than I usually would, so very slight spoiler warnings ahead.Whether she was window-shopping on Madison Avenue or strolling down the Champs Elysee, alluring Sarah Griffith was the kind of woman who made heads turn. Ummm, Sarah was fairly quiet and unassuming, and more interested in being useful in life via a job and not being the Society Princess the novel's title gives her. She went to Paris once, but that was in her later years and it wasn't a silly shopping trip. She wasn't a shopper or clothes horse at all.But not just any male would satisfy this luxury-loving lioness. He had to be charming, moneyed, classy and undeniably sensual, and Sarah was sure she'd found all that in the man she married...until she met Patrick Cameron, the man she really desired!No. No. No. Sarah was brutally raped, and it took years and the right man to help her get past it. She was not a gold digging she-devil on the prowl, and she'd known Patrick (Elizabeth's nephew) from when she first arrived in New York. There was a relationship, but it developed years later and only because they were both in love with each other. She never slept with any other man, not even the man she married (Elizabeth's son) .No one could ever say no to towering, dashing Patrick Cameron; not complete strangers, nor his art world cronies, nor his debutante wife. He was fantastically wealthy, extraordinarily charismatic, and unequaled in that raw animal masculinity every female yearns to experience. No. No. No. Patrick was a family man, married like men of his class should marry, but not in love with his wife. He never chased women, and I never heard of any woman chasing after him in the sorry. Running the family art gallery was more his thing.If Sarah were to submit to this one man, it would utterly ruin her reputation, her finances, ad her marriage. But she had only a moment more to choose between one night as the hot-blooded queen of Patrick's passion -- or an indulged lifetime as the indomitable SOCIETY PRINCESS.No. No. No. It was a love match that happened after they'd known each other for years. It wasn't a one-time sleep-over, it was an affair that went on until the day one of them died. Matter of fact, Sarah's husband approved of it, and it was very discreet so as not to cause any talk.Why do publishers do this stuff? Why?