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In an enthralling new historical novel from national bestselling author Kate Quinn, two women—a female spy recruited to the real-life Alice Network in France during World War I and an unconventional American socialite searching for her cousin in 1947—are brought together in a mesmerizing story of courage and redemption.
1947. In the chaotic aftermath of World War II, American college girl Charlie St. Clair is pregnant, unmarried, and on the verge of being thrown out of her very proper family. She's also nursing a desperate hope that her beloved cousin Rose, who disappeared in Nazi-occupied France during the war, might still be alive. So when Charlie's parents banish her to Europe to have her "little problem" taken care of, Charlie breaks free and heads to London, determined to find out what happened to the cousin she loves like a sister.
1915. A year into the Great War, Eve Gardiner burns to join the fight against the Germans and unexpectedly gets her chance when she's recruited to work as a spy. Sent into enemy-occupied France, she's trained by the mesmerizing Lili, the "Queen of Spies", who manages a vast network of secret agents right under the enemy's nose.
Thirty years later, haunted by the betrayal that ultimately tore apart the Alice Network, Eve spends her days drunk and secluded in her crumbling London house. Until a young American barges in uttering a name Eve hasn't heard in decades, and launches them both on a mission to find the truth...no matter where it leads.
“Both funny and heartbreaking, this epic journey of two courageous women is an unforgettable tale of little-known wartime glory and sacrifice. Quinn knocks it out of the park with this spectacular book!”—Stephanie Dray, New York Times bestselling author of America's First Daughter
528 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 6, 2017
“Facing a pistol-wielding murderer does tend to put parents further down the list of things to be intimidated by.”
“Marguerite, Lili, and Violette.” He smiled, and the worry in his eyes bordered on agony. “My flowers.” “Fleurs du mal,”Summer 1947, Eve was waiting again. You see, Eve was good at waiting. She’d waited more than thirty years to shoot René Bordelon, after all, and ever since then she had spent a good deal of time waiting under a killing sun for game. Shooting René had taught Eve just how much she liked to stalk, hunt, and kill dangerous things.
Eve heard herself saying, and shivered. “What?” “Baudelaire. We are not flowers to be plucked and shielded, Captain. We are flowers who flourish in evil.”
His face was hard against mine at the final shudder that speared us both, and I felt a tear slide between our pressed cheeks. I didn’t know which of us it had come from. But I didn’t care. It hadn’t come from grief, and that was enough.I cried so much reading this. I could blame it on the sensitive topics of war, ptsd, unwanted pregnancy, torture, misogyny, physical abuse, addiction. But in the end, I think it's just how real it is- that even when it ends in happiness and peace, everyone is still left a little bit broken.
Steel blades such as you and I do not measure against standards for ordinary women.
“What about your war?”
Because everyone’s war was different.