Excerpt from The Davenports by Krystal Marquis, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Thank you, Amy-Rose." John extended his glass, the effects of their shared memory quickly vanishing. "And thank you for this afternoon. I know Helen can be a handful."

"No trouble at all," Amy-Rose said, casting her eyes downward. She was, as always, infuriatingly beautiful for a maid. Ruby had never seen a girl whose features, unadorned with jewels, gloss, or rouge, appeared so flawless up close.

Ruby stepped closer to John. Between him, the fire, and the look he was giving Amy-Rose, she felt a ribbon of sweat unfurl down her back. "Come. Let's go someplace a little more private," she said to John, eager to get their conversation back on track. She cut her eyes to Amy-Rose, who nodded and walked away.

Ruby needed to remind John of what they once were and what they still could be. And that would not happen if he was staring at the maid like that.

From outside, Ruby's brick-faced home seemed empty, abandoned. Tremaine Mansion was nestled closer to the bustle of downtown Chicago. Ruby alighted the carriage in front of the grand entrance. She couldn't help but think it looked like a haunted mansion compared to Freeport. It lacked the warmth of the Davenports' home, and the family that breathed life into it.

Standing in her empty foyer, Ruby felt like a ghost, a specter who flitted silently in and out. She was glad for the darkness. It hid the changes that opened a hollow sadness in her—missing paintings, sold mementos, items that were, to her, priceless trinkets. The list was endless.

"Ruby, darling, is that you?"

She had nearly reached the landing of the staircase when her mother called from the dimly lit room down the hall. Her shoulders sagged. "Yes," she replied quietly. Her stomach rolled as she dragged her feet across the hall where a plush Aubusson runner once warmed the corridor.

Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine sat on either side of a slowly dying fire, drinking sherry. Ruby came to a stop before them as if called to the mat for some transgression.

"How was your evening?" her mother asked.

Ruby stared at the embers glowing red in the firebox. "Lovely." She tried not to fidget; her mother despised fidgeting.

"The Davenports are well?" she pressed. Ruby looked at her mother and saw what she would look like in twenty years. Even in the low light, she could make out her regal nose and full lips. Though her figure was fuller, Mrs. Tremaine could easily be mistaken for Ruby's sister.

Mr. Tremaine placed his crystal glass on the side table with a crash. "Enough pleasantries. Did you speak with John?" Her father turned in his chair and frowned at her. He was a tall man with a rounded belly. Ten years older than his wife, his hair showed a light dusting of white at his temples, but the sharp, piercing gleam of his eyes had not dimmed a bit.

"John and I shared a moment alone after dinner," she began. "He and I lingered in the dining room when everyone else retired next door for coffee or brandy. We laughed about some of our adventures as children—"

"Ruby," her mother said, "you're rambling." Mrs. Tremaine didn't raise her voice, but there was something in her calm, composed tone that made the hairs on Ruby's arms rise.

"He invited me to go riding." She took a step closer to them.

"When?" Mr. Tremaine's voice was loud in the quiet, and made both his wife and daughter flinch.

Ruby looked between her parents, realizing that she had played this all wrong. She should have said she was still priming John to ask her the question they so dearly wanted. "We ... haven't decided on an exact date."

Her mother's mouth puckered into a tight bow.

Mr. Tremaine slapped his knee and shot up from his chair. "I had intended to announce your engagement to John Davenport at the party this Friday."

Ruby sucked in a breath. How could he plan an announcement before a proposal?

"Darling." Her mother stood and took Ruby's hand, her face softening ever so slightly. "John is a good man, from a wonderful family. Your marriage to him could save this family. Together, the Tremaines and Davenports can be the example of what's possible here. I do hope you are trying." Her tone was supportive and yet her fingers were tight around Ruby's hand.

Excerpted from The Davenports by Krystal Marquis. Copyright © 2023 by Krystal Marquis. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.