“But you have mother’s looks, Ana. I envy your red hair, and always have.”
“It is not red. It is brown and ragged, with enough color to make it look as if I smashed ripe coffee berries in it.”
“Do you?” Sofia teased. “And unripe lemons for your eyes?” Her sister’s laughter made her more captivating and poised, if that were possible. Ana’s eyes were doubly green today, first from nature and second from envy.
“It will be you. You get to marry the English earl and go off and attend the balls and parties Mama described from her days in England. You will be the talk of the ton.” Numb grief crept across Ana’s skin, settling near her heart. An ocean would soon separate them. They had spent every moment of life together, even before they were born, when Mama had carried them and their sister, Maria. While she had never enjoyed the spectacle of being a triplet, Ana had reveled in the comfort of her sisters. Losing Maria to the convent seven years ago had been hard enough, though Sofia had been hit harder: Sofia and Maria were identical twins. Ana had always been the odd one out, but losing Sofia to England would destroy her.
This nameless earl in England threatened everything she knew and loved.
“But I don’t want to marry anyone right now except Sebastian!” Ana looked away and rolled her eyes. Sofia’s imaginary pirate was her great love. Eight years of hearing about a debauched, seductive thief who promised to come for her sister had been quite enough. The story had been amusing when they were teenagers.
Not now.
“Neither of us has a choice. Mama protected us as best she could. Now that she’s gone, Father intends to make good matches for us. An English earl? He won’t say no.”
“What if the earl is old?” Sofia’s alarm sent a shiver through Ana.
“How old?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Ana reached up and began twisting two frizzed strands of curls together, then knotted them. Sofia tapped her hand, an old reminder to stop the fidget. Unfurling her hair, Ana paused, then used her fingers as a makeshift comb.
“Anyone older than Father would be – ”
“Ugh!” they muttered simultaneously, then looked at each other, nervous laughter blending with the heady orange-scented air. The trees were pregnant with fruit, but not quite ready to drop and release their children into the world. Ana tipped her nose up and inhaled deeply, the odor a balm for her nerves. The unexpected would greet her at home, in Father’s library. He could wait a few seconds. Harvests like this came but once a year.
“I would not like to marry a man of forty-six years. He would remind me of Father and when I marry, the goal will be to get as far away from Father as possible!” Ana declared, hands on her hips, legs rooted among the trees as if planting herself. Suddenly, Sofia seemed like an adversary, someone she needed to defeat in order to win this round against the Viceroy.
“I am not the one you need to persuade.” Ana detected Sofia’s skepticism, a resignation tinged with fear. “Whatever awaits us at the house is our fate. We cannot change it.”
Ana’s nose twitched like a rabbit’s, searching for a clue in the air. The grove’s manager taught her years ago the ways of the citrus crop, how to use her nose to know the oranges and lemons. Judging a crop by the color and texture of the skin, the suppleness of the rind, and the scent the fruit sent into the world told an educated farmer everything he needed to know. The air told her that the crop was still ripening, yet she detected an impatience in some trees, a few ready sooner than the rest, while others would lag behind and only drop fruit when forced to do so, the final product so sweet and juicy that she would nearly weep with ecstasy when eating the first slice.
What if this were her last harvest? She could not imagine a world in dreary England, where even the sun was so proper it hid under the formal dress of clouds. While Sofia had always enjoyed her mother’s stories of Paris dressmakers and London parties, Ana preferred the groves, wending her way through the secrets of the trees, losing herself in their intricacies, relaxing only among the endless rows.
Both reached for the rosaries around their necks. Sofia’s lips began the silent prayer to Mary. Ana moved her lips but did not recite the prayer, replacing it with He will not win. He will not win. She was not certain to whom she prayed, but it was not God.
Don Vargas could overrule even God in New Granada....
An Inconvenient Fortune will be released in September 2012. To read more samples and to sign up for my new releases email list to get the first word on its publication, please go to A Romance of the Body.
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About the Author
HARPER ALIBECK is a former history professor who has published eight books and whose work has appeared in 17 others. She is also a National Book Critics Circle member, with reviews published online and in academic journals. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize twice, in non-fiction and fiction.
In recent years her interests turned toward contemporary and historical romance -- but with a twist. She enjoys researching and writing about characters who defy convention, and especially women who were confined to the mores and expectations of their day, yet find ways to maliciously obey.
A former Latin American and World History professor, research for her novels Legs and Unfinished included a trip to Santiago, Chile. Alibeck maintains that the best meal ever comes from a street vendor selling empañadas after a night of dancing and pisco sours in a Santiago jazz club.
Future research trips to Belize and Ireland may very well set the stage for forthcoming trilogies. She loves to hear from readers at [email protected], on Twitter, on her blog, and on Facebook.
Table of Contents
An Inconvenient Fortune (The Viceroy’s Daughters, Book 1):
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