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Keep reading for an excerpt from His Unlikely Duchess by Amanda McCabe.
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His Unlikely Duchess
by Amanda McCabe
Prologue
Newport—1872
‘I don’t know why you still read that rubbish. Happy-ever-afters aren’t real,’ Violet Wilkins announced.
Lily Wilkins looked up from the book in her lap to smile at her younger sister. She had to laugh at Vi, who looked so disgruntled standing there at the gate to their mother’s prized rose garden. Her arms were crossed over her rumpled shirtwaist and her scowl made her look much older than her sixteen years, despite the schoolgirlish braids and hair bows their mother still insisted on. Stella Wilkins would never admit to being old enough to mother quite so many growing girls.
Though, at almost twenty, Lily wouldn’t be a girl much longer. She was already ‘out’ in Newport, and soon she would be in Manhattan, too, after a grand ball Stella was planning for the autumn. Lily shuddered to think what would happen after that.
‘Of course I still read these,’ she said, putting the book down on the marble bench beside her. ‘And they’re French novels, not fairy tales. No happy endings guaranteed.’
Just like in the real world. Lily had spent her whole life watching her parents sitting at opposite ends of vast dining tables, barely tolerating each other’s presence, smiling in public so no one would know ‘Old King Coal’ Wilkins, one of the richest men in New York, and his genteel Old South wife couldn’t stand each other any longer.
That was the last thing Lily ever wanted, either for herself or her sisters. And that was why she took refuge in books. The fictional perils, dangers, adventures and, yes, romances of those heroines were preferable to daily life. Walks in the park, tea parties, letter writing, dancing with men who could only talk about Wall Street and horses...
Yes. Books were better.
‘The French,’ Violet said with a sniff. ‘What do they know about fairy tales anyway?’
Lily laughed, her heart almost bursting with love for her redheaded sister. She had always tried to take care of Violet and her gentle twin sister, Rose. They had been her pride and joy ever since she saw them come into the nursery, tiny, pink-cheeked and howling. Almost as if they were her daughters rather than her sisters. The three of them had to stick together against the rest of the world, or they would surely be lost.
‘What do you know of the French, then, Vi?’
‘I know Monsieur Anatole’s cooking, which is too salty, even though Mother is so proud she stole him from Mrs Vanderbilt. And I know Monsieur Worth’s gowns, which are too heavy and itchy. I bet Frenchwomen never go walking or swimming, or play tennis, at all. I bet they don’t even laugh.’
Lily noticed that Violet’s hair was still damp in its untidy braids, dark red glinting with gold in the sun. She was fiddling with her beloved ‘Talbot’s Mousetrap’ camera, as usual. Photography had become Violet’s passion and she was constantly begging to take portraits of family and friends, or wandering the seashore taking pictures of the waves. ‘Were you swimming in the cove again? If Mother catches you...’
Violet laughed and kicked out at a clump of dirt. ‘Mother is much too busy planning next week’s dance to fuss about my swimming or my camera. It’s you who should be careful now, Lily.’
Lily frowned. She couldn’t quite trust Violet when her sister got that ‘I have a secret’ light in her changeable hazel eyes. Where Violet’s twin Rose was calm and serene, always so careful about her lessons and concerned with proper behaviour, Violet had other concerns. Concerns such as always knowing exactly what was happening in every corner of the vast Wilkins household and taking a photo of it if she could.
Lily had no idea how Violet did it and Violet never told her secrets. Forewarned is forearmed, Violet would always say as she skipped away.
Their mother, who was always very excitable anyway, and much prone to fainting fits and crying jags, had been preoccupied for weeks, putting together a grand dinner and ball that she intended to be the sparkling highlight of the Newport summer season. It was easy to hide from Stella Wilkins when her every energy was focused on besting Mrs Astor, but sometimes she would suddenly remember Lily should ‘help’ with the arrangements. That Lily was a vital part of her great social plan.
