Excerpt from The Mitford Affair by Marie Benedict, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Chapter One
Nancy

July 7, 1932
London, England

The mellifluous sounds of the symphony float throughout the ballroom. Servants pour golden champagne into the cut-­crystal glasses. The fabled Cheyne Walk house exudes perfection down to the last detail, nowhere more than in its hostess.

There, at the center of the vast ballroom, stands the stunning, statuesque figure in a floor-­length sheath of platinum silk, a shade that echoes her silvery-blue eyes. Her diamond-­laden arms outstretched in welcome to her guests, she radiates serenity and unflappable, irresistible poise. If she were anyone else—­someone I didn't know as intimately as I know myself—­I would judge that sphinxlike smile a charade. Or worse. But I know she is precisely as she appears, because she is Diana, my sister.

I wrest my eyes from her and glance around the gleaming gilt and marble ballroom, expansive enough to easily hold the three hundred guests in attendance. As the dancers begin to pair up and then organize themselves, the revelers appear to emanate from Diana like the rays of the sun. It is a pattern that has repeated itself since our childhood; she always dazzles at the center, with us sisters fanned out around her like lesser beams. Never mind that the press considers all six of us Mitford sisters the very essence of the so-­called Bright Young Things, she is the star.

The evening feels more like a celebration of the fashionable new home of Diana and her handsome, kindly husband Bryan Guinness, than a ball introducing one of our younger sisters, Unity, into society. Where has Unity scampered off to? I wonder, as I scan the crowded space for the spectacularly tall eighteen-­year-­old. Never one to abide by social dictates, she seems to have disappeared into the background instead of lapping up the attention as would be expected at an event in her honor. Finally, I spot her tucked into a shadowy corner, deep in conversation with our sister Pamela and our one and only brother, Tom, that golden boy of ours. Of my six siblings that leaves out only Jessica and Deborah, but they're too young to mingle in society.

Even though she pretends to be listening, Unity is clearly watching the other partygoers rather than engaging with Tom and Pamela. At least here at Cheyne Walk, she won't be required to curtsy twice and retreat backward as she'd had to do before the king and queen when she came out at Buckingham Palace. Poor Bobo, as we call her among ourselves, is not known for her grace, and we sisters had clutched one another's hands and held our breath until she'd completed the act without tripping and catapulting herself into one of Their Majesties' laps. Even then, she barely managed the feat without several awkward lunges and an initial backward step where her heel caught on her hem, sending a horrific tearing sound throughout the famous receiving room.

A shimmer of silver crosses the ballroom, and I observe Diana sashaying through the crowds. I think how alike Diana and Unity appear from a distance, both tall with their features blurred and blond hair flashing. Not so upon close inspection, and not only because Diana wears a seamless column of silver, while Unity sports a gray-­and-­white gown that is somehow ill fitting despite numerous trips to the tailor. For the millionth time, I give thanks that I was born with jet-­black hair and green eyes instead of blue; I'd never want to come up wanting by comparison to Diana.

The music pauses, and I see Evelyn Waugh across the expanse. Delight and warmth course through me at the sight of my dear friend. Only the appearance of my unofficial fiancé would bring me greater happiness. But I know that's impossible, as Hamish declared himself unavailable for this particular function, providing yet another reason for my parents, whom we call Muv and Farve, to dislike him, apart from the multiyear, oft-­delayed nature of our engagement. What plans could your fey fiancé have made, Farve wondered aloud using a most derogatory description, that prevented him from attending the ball of his fiancée's sister?

Excerpted from The Mitford Affair by Marie Benedict. Copyright © 2023 by Marie Benedict. Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.