by Julia Quinn
Julia Quinn
SPLENDID
For my mother,
who let me drag her to all those bookstores.
And for Paul, even though he insisted that
the title ought to be Splendid in the Grass.
Dear Reader
I remember well when I began Splendid, my debut novel. It was the summer after I’d graduated college; I’d already read everything by my favorite romance authors and was craving more. I found myself daydreaming as my subway train shuttled back and forth between Cambridge and Boston. What if an American came to London, and what if she met a duke? And what would happen if he thought she was a servant? What would happen when he discovered her true identity? Would he be angry? (Well, yeah, of course he would, but he’d kiss her anyway, wouldn’t he?)
I stopped going to the movies and watching TV. I even stopped reading! All I could do was sit in front of my computer and bang at the keys until Emma and Alex and all of their meddling relatives came to life, and, of course, fell in love. All I had to work with was a sheer love of storytelling and a determination to one day see my words printed on the pages of a book that would actually be purchased by someone other than my mother.
Splendid is, perhaps, not as polished as what I publish today, but there is something very special interwoven in the words—a sense of joy and exuberance that I think one can only find in debut novels. I loved every minute that I spent writing this book.
I hope that Splendid brings you as much joy as it did me...
Best wishes,
Contents
DEAR READER
PROLOGUE
“You’re sending me away?”
CHAPTER 1
“You realize, of course, that there will be hell to pay …
CHAPTER 2
Emma heard voices before she opened her eyes.
CHAPTER 3
Alex stood in front of the Blydon mansion staring at the…
CHAPTER 4
“Ashbourne! This is a surprise.
CHAPTER 5
For one blessed second, Emma thought she was hallucinating.
CHAPTER 6
Emma breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she…
CHAPTER 7
“I am so glad you decided to let me go with you,
CHAPTER 8
During the next few weeks, Emma’s life settled…
CHAPTER 9
Emma slunk along the side of the Lindworthys’ home,
CHAPTER 10
Seated in the plush carriage, Emma began to replay the…
CHAPTER 11
Emma immediately noticed the predatory gleam in Alex’s eye…
CHAPTER 12
Mesmerized, Emma could not tear her eyes off…
CHAPTER 13
For all of Emma’s determination to put her feminine…
CHAPTER 14
The next morning Emma found that love had another…
CHAPTER 15
Oh Lord, what was she thinking?
CHAPTER 16
The lonely walk home gave Emma ample time to scrutinize her…
CHAPTER 17
“How do I look?”
CHAPTER 18
Emma’s mouth fell open.
CHAPTER 19
A few hours later, Emma’s eyelids fluttered open, and she…
CHAPTER 20
Emma bit her lip and did her best to stand up straight.
CHAPTER 21
Before Emma could catch her breath, she found herself at…
CHAPTER 22
The next few weeks of Emma’s life were among the…
CHAPTER 23
The skies had cleared considerably since the previous…
CHAPTER 24
Emma strode down the hall and barged into Shipton…
CHAPTER 25
Alex had just enough presence of mind to stop and get Dunford…
EPILOGUE
Emma decided to put her plans for the building…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AVON BOOKS BY JULIA QUINN
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Prologue
Boston, Massachusetts
February 1816
“You’re sending me away?”
Emma Dunster’s violet eyes were wide open with shock and dismay.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” her father replied. “Of course I’m not sending you away. You’re just going to spend a year in London with your cousins.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “But...why?”
John Dunster shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I just think that you ought to see a little more of the world, that’s all.”
“But I’ve been to London. Twice.”
“Yes, well, you’re older now.” He cleared his throat a few times and sat back.
“But—”
“I don’t see why this is such a hardship. Henry and Caroline love you like their own, and you told me yourself that you like Belle and Ned better than any of your friends in Boston.”
“But they’ve been visiting for two months. It’s not as if I haven’t seen them recently.”
John crossed his arms. “You’re sailing back with them tomorrow, and that’s final. Go to London, Emma. Have some fun.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to marry me off?”
“Of course not! I just think that a change of scenery will do you good.”
“I disagree. There are a thousand reasons why I simply cannot leave Boston at the present time.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There is this household, for example. Who will manage it while I’m gone?”
John smiled indulgently at his daughter. “Emma, we live in a twelve-room house. It doesn’t require much managing. And I’m sure that the little that is necessary can be most ably performed by Mrs. Mullins.”
“What about all of my friends? I shall miss them all dreadfully. And Stephen Ramsay will be most disappointed if I leave so suddenly. I think he’s on the verge of proposing.”
“For God’s sake, Emma! You don’t care two figs for young Ramsay. You shouldn’t raise the poor boy’s hopes just because you don’t want to go to London.”
“But I thought you wanted us to marry. His father is your best friend.”
John sighed. “When you were ten I might have entertained thoughts of a future match between the two of you. But it was obvious even then that you would never suit. You would drive him crazy within a week.”
“Your concern for your only child is touching,” Emma muttered.
“And he would bore you senseless,” John finished gently. “I only wish Stephen would realize the fruitlessness of it. It’s all the more reason for you to leave town. If you’re an ocean away, he might finally look elsewhere for a bride.”
“But I really prefer Boston.”
“You adore England,” John countered, his voice bordering on exasperation. “You couldn’t stop talking about how much you loved it last time we went.”
Emma swallowed and caught her lower lip nervously between her teeth. “What about the company?” she said softly.
John sighed and sat back. At last, the real reason why Emma didn’t want to leave Boston. “Emma, Dunster Shipping will still be here when you get back.”
“But there is still so much more for me to know! How am I going to take over eventually if I don’t learn all I can now?”
“Emma, you and I both know that there is no one I would rather leave the company to than you. I built Dunster Shipping up from nothing, and Lord knows I want to pass it on to my own flesh and blood. But we have to face facts. Most of our clients will be reluctant to do business with a woman. And the workers aren’t going to want to take orders from you. Even if your last name is Dunster.”
&
nbsp; Emma closed her eyes, knowing it was true and nearly ready to cry over the unfairness of it all.
“I know that there is no one better suited to run Dunster Shipping,” her father said gently. “But that doesn’t mean that anyone else will agree with me. Much as it angers me, I have to accept the fact that the company will falter with you at the helm. We’d lose all of our contracts.”
“For no other reason besides my gender,” she said sullenly.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’m going to run this company some day.” Emma’s violet eyes were clear and deadly serious.
“Good Lord, girl. You don’t give up, do you?”
Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth and stood her ground.
John sighed. “Did I ever tell you about the time you had influenza?”
Emma shook her head, confused by the sudden change of subject.
“It was right after the disease took your mother. You were four, I think. Such a tiny little thing.” He looked up at his only child, warmth and affection shining in his eyes. “You were very small as a child—you’re still small as an adult, but when you were young—oh, you were so, so tiny I didn’t think it possible that you’d have the strength to fight the illness.”
Emma sat down, deeply moved by her father’s choked words.
“But you pulled through,” he said suddenly. “And then I realized what saved you. You were simply too stubborn to die.”
Emma wasn’t able to suppress a tiny smile.
“And I,” her father continued, “I was too stubborn to let you.” He straightened his shoulders as if banishing the sentimentality of the moment. “In fact, I may be the only person on this earth who is more stubborn than you are, daughter, so you may as well accept your fate.”
Emma groaned. It was time to face it—there was no way to avoid going to England. Not that a trip abroad could be considered punishment. She adored her cousins. Belle and Ned were the sister and brother she’d never had. But still, one had to think of the serious things, and Emma didn’t want to neglect her self-imposed commitment to Dunster Shipping. She glanced back over at her father. He was sitting behind his desk, arms crossed, looking implacable. Emma sighed, resigning herself to a temporary setback. “Oh, all right.” She got up to leave—to pack, she supposed, since she’d be leaving the next day on one of her father’s ships. “But I’ll be back.”
“I’m sure you will. Oh, and Emma?”
She turned around.
“Don’t forget to have a little fun while you’re there, all right?”
Emma flashed her father her most mischievous smile. “Really, Papa, you don’t think I would deny myself a good time in London just because I didn’t want to be there?”
“Of course not. How silly of me.”
Emma put her hand on the doorknob and opened the door a few inches. “A girl only gets a London season once in her lifetime, I suppose. She might as well enjoy herself, even if she’s not the society type.”
“Oh marvelous! Then you got her to agree?” John’s sister, Caroline, the Countess of Worth, exclaimed, suddenly barging into the room.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that eavesdropping is impolite?” John asked mildly.
“Nonsense. I was walking down the hall and I heard Emma speaking. She had the door slightly open, you know.” She turned to Emma. “Now that we have this settled, however, what is all this I hear about you punching a thief in the nose today?”
“Oh, that,” Emma said, pinkening.
“Oh what?” John demanded.
“I saw someone trying to take Ned’s wallet. He and Belle were bickering about something or other, like they always do, and he didn’t notice that he was being robbed.”
“So you punched him? Couldn’t you have just screamed?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Papa. What would that have accomplished?”
“Well, then, did you at least throw a good punch?”
Emma bit her lower lip in a sheepish gesture. “Actually, I think I broke his nose.”
Caroline groaned audibly. “Emma,” she said softly. “You do know that I am very much looking forward to having you in London for the season?”
“I know.” Caroline was the closest thing Emma had to a mother. She was always trying to get her to spend more time in England.
“And you know that I love you dearly and would not want to change a thing about you.”
“Yes,” Emma said hesitatingly.
“Then I hope you won’t take offense when I say that proper young ladies really don’t go about punching unsavory characters in the nose in London.”
“Oh, Aunt Caroline, proper young ladies really don’t do that sort of thing in Boston, either.”
John chuckled. “Did you by chance get Ned’s wallet back?”
Emma tried to throw him a haughty look, but she couldn’t stop her lips from turning up at the corners. “Of course.”
John beamed. “That’s my girl!”
Chapter 1
London, England
April 1816
“You realize, of course, that there will be hell to pay if my mother catches us.” Arabella Blydon looked over her costume with a skeptical eye. She and Emma had borrowed frocks from their maids—much to their maids’ dismay—and were presently creeping down the back stairs of Belle’s London house.
“There will be a lot more hell to pay if she catches you swearing,” Emma commented wryly.
“I really don’t care. If I have to supervise one more flower arrangement for your party, I’m going to scream.”
“I hardly think a scream would be appropriate when we’re meant to be sneaking down the stairs.”
“Oh, hush,” Belle muttered ungraciously, tiptoeing her way down another step.
Emma surveyed her surroundings as she followed her cousin. The back staircase was certainly a change from the one she and Belle usually used in the main hall, which curved gracefully and was cushioned with luxurious carpets from Persia. In contrast, the polished wooden steps of the back stairs were narrow, and the walls were whitewashed and unadorned. The quiet simplicity of the stairwell reminded Emma of her home in Boston, which was not decorated in the opulent London style. The Blydon mansion, located in fashionable Grosvenor Square, had been in their family for over a century and was filled with both priceless heirlooms and exceedingly bad portraits of the Blydons of yesteryear. Emma glanced back up at the plain walls and sighed softy as she fought back a pang of homesickness for her father.
“I cannot believe I’m creeping around my home like a burglar to avoid my mother,” Belle grumbled as she reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs and rounded the corner to begin the second. “Frankly, I’d rather curl up in my room with a good book, but she’s sure to find me there and make me go over the menu again.”
“A fate worse than death,” Emma murmured.
Belle looked at her sharply. “I’ll have you know that I’ve gone over that blasted menu with her countless times. If she corners me one more time with questions about salmon mousse or roast duck à l’orange, I really don’t think I can be held responsible for my actions.”
“Contemplating matricide?”
Belle shot her a wry look but didn’t reply as she daintily moved down the stairs. “Watch out for this step, Emma,” she whispered, hugging the wall. “It creaks in the middle.”
Emma swiftly followed her cousin’s advice. “I take it you sneak down these stairs often?”
“I used to. It’s quite handy to know how to get around this place without anyone knowing what you’re up to. I just usually don’t go around dressed like my maid.”
“Well, it wouldn’t do to wear silks if we’re going to help Cook get all the food prepared for tonight.”
Belle looked dubious. “Frankly, I don’t think she’s going to appreciate our help. She’s quite traditional and doesn’t really think it’s proper for the family to be belowstairs.” With that, she flung open the door to the kitchen. “H
ello, everyone. We’re here to help!”
Everyone looked absolutely horrified.
Emma quickly tried to remedy the situation. “You could use two extra pairs of hands, couldn’t you?” She turned to Cook and flashed her a wide smile.
Cook threw up her arms and shrieked, sending clouds of flour billowing through the air. “What in God’s name are you two doing down here?”
One of the kitchen maids stopped kneading dough for a moment and ventured a question. “Pardon me, miladies, but why are you dressed like that?”
“I don’t think the two of you ought to be in my kitchen,” Cook continued, placing her hands on her formidable hips. “You’ll get in the way.” When neither of the two young ladies showed any inclination of leaving, Cook clenched her teeth and started waving a wooden spoon at them. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we have a lot of extra work to do down here. Now off with you before I call the countess.”
Belle quaked at the mention of her mother. “Please let us stay, Cook.” She was fairly sure that Cook had a proper name, but everyone had called her that for so long that nobody actually remembered what it was. “We promise not to get in the way. We’ll be a great help to you, I’m sure. And we’ll be quiet, too.”
“It just isn’t right having you down here. Don’t you two have anything better to do than play at being kitchen maids?”
“Not really,” Belle answered truthfully.
Emma smiled to herself, silently agreeing with her cousin. She and Belle had gotten into nonstop mischief since they had arrived three weeks earlier. It wasn’t that she’d meant to get into trouble. It was just that there seemed so little to do in London. Back home she kept busy with her work for Dunster Shipping. But in London, bookkeeping was not deemed an appropriate pastime for women, and it seemed that proper young English ladies had no other duties besides getting fitted for gowns and learning how to dance.
