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.