What do you think?
Rate this book


1771 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 15, 2015
“Sebastian,” Violet replied, calmly looping the yarn about one of her needles, “it is neither proper nor respectful to let a woman know that you think of her as nothing more than a hole.”
“You don’t expect love.” She shook her head in confusion. “This is the second time you’ve said that. Is this going to be like one of those dreadful novels where you warn me not to fall in love with you, and if I do, then you’ll turn into Bluebeard and try to lop my head off? You’re handsome. You have all your teeth.” She looked into his eyes and lightly touched her hand to his cheek. He grew very still. “I can offer you no promises. If you’re any good in bed, I might fall in love with you. If that is going to be anathema…”
“We’re men. We don’t have to marry. These girls, here? They’ve seen their sisters, their friends placed firmly on the shelf. They know their prospects if they don’t catch a man. It’s not their place to like or not like. It’s their place to marry any way they can, and it’s ours to choose.”
“When I push you on it, you don’t simper or fluster or make excuses. You defend what you see with a surprising capacity for logic.”
“A surprising capacity,” she said flatly. “My, the compliments you give a woman. Do say on.”
She shook her head in mock solemnity. “Nobody expects a false elopement.”
Her niece grimaced. “I was visiting my friend Sarah. She married two months ago, you know? She told me what happens when women marry.”
“Oh?” Violet’s spirits sank. It was one thing to do Lily a favor. But she refused—absolutely refused—to have the “penises are not that bad, and in fact, many women come to like them” talk with her in Hyde Park, of all places.
“As far as I can tell,” Amanda continued, “you plan menus, look over the servants, and go on visits.” She huffed. “That’s the entirety of your life, once you marry.”
Oh, thank God. It wasn’t the penis talk.
“You’re one of the only people that I can work around. Being around you is like being around nobody at all.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian said gravely, trying to hide his smile in response. Only Violet would say something like that and intend it as a compliment.
So, yes, Edward. I know the obstacles women face. I know them better than you ever will.”
“All your tasks are about men,” she told him. “And if you haven’t noticed, this is a newspaper for women.”
“Are you really left-handed?” Mr. Marshall asked.
“No. I’ve just been pretending to use my left hand my entire life because because I enjoy never being able to work scissors properly.” Edward rolled his eyes. “What do you think? My father tried to encourage me to use my right more but it never did take.”
“My father was a stable master,” he told her. “My mother was a seamstress. I’ve done very well for myself, but don’t imagine that I’m one of those gentlemen who look down on you.”
While we don’t have statistics of this by race, by 1882, Britain had probably trained at least as many black doctors as there were dukes.