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

Feeling uncomfortably constricted, she pulls at the strap of the gray-­and-­white Hartnell dress that Diana had specially designed for her this evening, not wanting her to wear her only other good ball gown—­the one she wore for her Buckingham Palace presentation with the brand-­new fur coat on top, all courtesy of Diana of course. No one else in her family has a spare pound to speak of. What an absolute brick Diana has been during this horrific deb season, Unity thinks. Much more helpful than her other sisters—­not that her favorite, Jessica, who they all refer to as Decca, could do much as she was too young for society—­but what of Nancy? Unity shoots her oldest sister a glance; she's preoccupied with her clever friends as usual, the ones with whom she never wants Unity to talk.

Blast, is that Nina Sturdee standing within earshot of Nancy? A shiver passes through Unity. The last thing she needs right now is a chat with one of her classmates from her short-­lived days at Queen's Gate School, or St. Margaret's for that matter. Some hateful girl who might remember that the staff found Unity ill-­suited for their institution and "counseled" her home to Farve and Muv, much to their chagrin. Unity has long known that the only reason Muv had made an exception from her insistence that her girls be educated at home was that she needed a break from Unity's uniqueness, as she put it. But tonight of all nights, she wants nothing more than to blend in—­or stand out in the respectable, even attractive way she is meant to. No mean feat when she stands nearly six feet tall.

Just then, she sees Diana stroll to the corner of the room, where a cluster of young men are downing drinks as if their lives depend on it. As she leans toward the tallest, gangliest of the set and whispers in his ear, Unity studies how the other three freeze. It's as if Diana's very presence in their midst has caused an Arctic drop in temperature. How Unity longs for that kind of effect on men. Or on one man in particular.

The tall, gangly fellow tears himself away from his friends—­with a modicum of reluctance, she notes—­and walks toward Unity. He is smiling, and as he grows closer, she must remind herself not to return it. The fillings in her upper incisors make her teeth look gray and her smile menacing. More like a grimace than a grin.

The horns and violins begin to play as he asks, "May I have this dance?"

She nods, still very aware of her teeth and wanting to move to the lower lights of the dance floor before speaking. They begin to twirl around the ballroom, and she's grateful Diana selected someone over six feet. Aside from very recent house parties and three balls, her experience with dancing is limited to the twice weekly lessons Muv insisted upon, and she's not certain how smooth her steps would be with a partner shorter than her.

"What sort of music do you like?" he asks, one of those questions her dance instructor has suggested as appropriate chitchat. She wishes she thought of it first.

"I have a particular fondness for opera." She answers honestly, unable to fake the acceptable sort of replies the instructor recommended. This misstep makes her nervous, and so she blathers on. "German ones in particular. My grandparents were great friends of the family of composer Richard Wagner; that's why my parents gave me the middle name of Valkyrie." His face is blank; not at all the sort of awed expression she hoped for. Is it possible he doesn't know who Wagner is, doesn't know his world-­renown stature? Perhaps he needs a bit of clarification, she thinks, and adds, "In honor of his most famous opera, the Ring cycle?"

"Ah," he says, then adds, "Interesting."

But his tone tells her that her conversation is the opposite of interesting; he finds her very dull indeed. So she tries a change of tack. "Do you like rats?"

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.