Excerpt of The Duplicitous Debutante by Becky Lower

Rosemary took a seat opposite her mother, and wrung her
gloved hands together. “My meeting with Mr. Cooper is
this
afternoon, and after the dinner the other night when
little
Georgie decided to make his appearance, I realized I was
on
my own. So I’ve decided my best course of action is to
impersonate Mr. Elliott’s secretary. But only until I can
determine the true nature of Mr. Cooper. If he’s an
enlightened sort, I’ll reveal myself to him soon enough.
But right now, I can’t take the risk.” She heaved a great
sigh after she pleaded with her mother for understanding.

Her mother pursed her lips together before she answered.
“I
think it’s a brilliant plan, my dear.”

“You do?”

“Well, you know how much our family loves to have its
little secrets and to have fun with society. So, yes, I’d
say it’s a good, solid plan. If Mr. Cooper turns out to
be
a truly enlightened nineteenth-century gentleman, such as
your father, you can reveal yourself to him at an
appropriate time. If not, you can continue to pose as Mr.
Elliott’s secretary. It would explain how you have all
the
details about the characters, the contracts with the
publisher, obligations still owed, and all the rest. I
figured, sooner or later, you’d come up with a perfect
solution.”

“All right, then. Thank you, Mother, for being behind me
in
my little secret. I guess I should quit stalling and get
over to the office. It’ll be the first time I’ve actually
set foot inside it.”

“But you know where it is, right? Should someone go with
you?”

“Yes, I know where it is. Actually, it’s not too far from
here. A good walk. And no, I don’t want anyone to come
with
me. In order to pull off the deception of a perfect
working-class secretary, I must show up by myself, don’t
you think? I’ve been by the place before, anyway. I
wanted
to see where my books were being printed. But now I get
to
go inside. I’m excited. And a little bit nervous.”

“And who knows? Maybe Mr. Cooper will turn out to be a
handsome single man.”

Rosemary ran her hands down her soft flannel skirt.
“Mother, please. One thing at a time. I’ll find a husband
when the time is right. For now, I need to salvage my
career. The only man in my life right now is Harry Hawk.
And he’s depending on me.”

“Harry Hawk can’t keep you warm at night, though,
Rosemary.
Or provide me with another grandchild.”

“Tell me your impressions of the man from your meeting
with
him. Your Mr. Cooper. Is he young? Older? Short? Tall?”

Rosemary bristled and pierced her mother with her gaze.
“First, he’s not my Mr. Cooper. And besides, what does
physical appearance have to do with the measure of the
man?”

Her mother smiled. Just a ghost of a smile, but a smile
nonetheless. Rosemary suddenly became very interested in
the pattern of the carpet.

Her mother replied, “As you are well aware, a man’s
physical presence has little to do with the mind trapped
inside the body. But it will help to give me a mental
picture of him, so I can know what we’re dealing with.”

Rosemary took a deep breath. “All right, then. He’s a
young
man, but not too young. Perhaps mid-twenties. The
publishing company in Boston belongs to his father, but
he’s allowing his son to have control of the dime novel
portion of the business. At least that’s what I gathered
from our conversation.”

“And his appearance?”

Rosemary shifted again in her seat. His appearance. The
most handsome man she’d ever met. No, she couldn’t reveal
that to her mother. “He’s tall, probably around six feet
or
so. His hair is dark, and he ties it back into a queue.”

“Hmmm. Not at all what my image of a Boston Brahmin is.
What is his origin?”

Rosemary brought her lips together into a tight line.
“I’m
not certain, Mother, although he did mention he spent
some
time in New Orleans. Does it matter?”

Charlotte straightened out the wrinkles in her skirt,
brushing her hands over her lap in a casual motion.
Rosemary was well aware of what the action signified. It
meant her mother was devising a plan. A plan involving
her
and Henry Cooper. She stood again, and began to pace.

“Will you sit down, child, and talk about this? You’re
making me dizzy.”?“Only if you can promise me you have no
more subterfuge up your lace sleeve.” “Oh, do sit,
Rosemary, and stop being so dramatic. It’s not as if
you’re
tied to some railroad track with a train barreling down
on
you. Your interaction with Mr. Cooper is merely a bump in
the road.”

Tied to a railroad track with a train barreling down on
you. Her fingers itched for a pen and some paper.