All Rosemary Fitzpatrick wants is to keep writing her dime novels under the guise of a male pen name, while all her mother wants is to find a suitable husband for her daughter. And all her new publisher wants is a face-to-face meeting with the author.
In 1859, ladies of New York society were expected to do three things well: find a husband, organize a smooth-running household, and have children.
Rosemary Fitzpatrick’s agenda is very different. As the author of the popular Harry Hawk dime novels, she must hide her true identity from her new publisher, who assumes the person behind the F. P. Elliott pen name is male. She must pose as his secretary in order to ensure the continuation of her series. And in the midst of all this subterfuge, her mother is insisting that she become a debutante this year.
Henry Cooper is not the typical Boston Brahmin. Nor is he a typical publisher. He’s entranced by Mr. Elliott’s secretary the moment they meet, and wonders how his traditional-thinking father will react when he brings a working class woman into the family. Because his intentions are to marry her, regardless.
Rosemary’s deception begins to unravel at the Cotillion ball, when Henry recognizes her. The secretarial mask must come off, now that he knows she is a member of New York society. But she can’t yet confess who she truly is until she knows if Henry will accept her as F. P. Elliott.
The more time they spend together, the closer they become. But when Rosemary reveals her true identity to him, will Henry be able to forgive her or has her deceit cost her the man she loves?
Excerpt
Harry Hawk and the Tycoon’s Daughter—Book Six in the Harry Hawk Series
Harry Hawk stared down the barrel of his Colt .45. A huge Sioux Indian was in his sights, but was holding the girl in front of him as a shield. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she struggled against the man, and she trembled as she kept her eyes on the end of Harry’s gun.
New York City, March 1859
Rosemary Fitzpatrick laid her fountain pen on the paper, oblivious to the blob of ink that fell from its tip and damaged the page. She picked up the letter she had received earlier in the day.
It was her own gun, and she was staring down the barrel.
The letter informed her that her publisher, Page Books, had been sold, as Mr. Page had retired. The new company, Cooper and Son Publishing, was sending an envoy from Boston to New York to meet with all the authors. And to decide whom to keep.
She read the words between the lines. And whom to cut.
She had never met Mr. Page. All their correspondence had been through the post. So Mr. Page had no idea one of his best-selling dime novel authors was a woman. F.P. Elliott was the name she’d come up with when she was only fourteen and submitted her first story, not once imagining she’d become one of Mr. Page’s most productive and popular authors.
She had only two days in which to find someone to impersonate F.P. Elliott.
Duplicitously Delightful
As a former fencing student, I love how Becky Lower uses fencing as a metaphor for romance in The Duplicitous Debutante. The feinte, the riposte, the touche all mirror the dance between Rosemary Fitzpatrick and Henry Cooper as she tries to conceal a secret that could end her writing career—a very unusual career for a young lady of a prominent family in the 1850s. Until she knows Henry Cooper’s attitude about women’s rights, Rosemary must hide the fact that she is Cooper & Son Publishing’s most successful author. The pas de deux they perform requires finesse, and author Becky Lower does not disappoint. Her attention to detail and authenticity of the time period is impeccable, her characters are well-drawn, and the romantic tension between Rosemary and Henry, delightful. I am a fan of Ms. Lower, and every one of her books has been a joy to read. A must-read for historical romance fans.
I was given an ARC in exchange for an honest review. And honestly, I loved it!
Reviewed by Sharon Fernberg
8/10/2014
19 year old Rosemary Fitzpatrick has been writing and having her dime novels published under the guise of F.P. Elliott, presumably thought to be a male by Cooper Publishing. Everything has gone smoothly until the head of the publishing company decides to send his son, Henry Cooper, to meet with each of the authors personally. When Rosemary receives a letter confirming this, she works herself into a tizzy and meets with the handsome gentleman, introducing herself as F.P. Elliott's secretary. Although Henry Cooper is entranced with her beauty and extremely tiny waist, he still insists on meeting with the author of the Harry Hawk dime novels or else he will drop F.P. Elliott as one of the top authors of the publishing house. Rosemary attempts to convince her brother Halwyn to be F.P. Elliott, but circumstances occur that he cannot do this. So, her father, George, accepts the challenge. However, the day of the meeting, he is taken ill so once again Rosemary attends the meeting with Henry without F.P. Elliott at her side.
Since he is new to the city, Henry is invited to the Cotillion Ball as a guest of friends of the Fitzpatrick family. He is introduced to Rosemary who he only knows as Mr. Elliott's secretary, not a debutante in the upper class society.
As I read this book, I laughed, cried, held my breath and felt for both the heroine and the hero. Can Henry deal with the fact that Rosemary is not who she said she was, and is truly a writer? Can Rosemary love a man whose father is unwilling to accept a working woman as a future wife for his son?
I didn't want this book to end. Although I consider each book in the series after I've read them to be my favorite, this one is superior because I fell in love with the plot, with the heroine, with the hero, and with Harry Hawk of the dime novels Rosemary is writing. Please, I beg of you, Ms. Lower, to do a series using Harry Hawk as your hero.
I have read every book of Ms. Lower's be it historical romance or contemporary, and find her to be an author who should be on the best selling lists. Keep writing, Ms. Lower, and thank you for giving me so many hours of pleasurable reading. Sharon Lee Fernberg
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