“I want you to have the same gifts you’ve given me,” she said. “If you cannot be happy unless you have a farm, then—”
Uncanny how fast he moved without making a sound. Before she could blink, his mouth was pressed to hers. The kiss was everything she’d craved since they parted: equal parts dark intensity and gentle tenderness. He tasted of tea and longing, and smelled like the first breath of spring.
Perfect.
Too soon, he broke the kiss. “Home is not a place. It is certainly not a sheep farm,” he said. “Home is the smell of graphite and lavender. The sound of glass bottles rattling when you forget to take them off the flame.”
“One time,” Violet said. “Twice. No more than that.”
He ate her lie with another kiss, then continued.
“Home is the taste of your lips and the way your eyebrows turn into tiny triangles when you talk about the behavior of ideal gases. You have taught me much about the world, but your most important lesson was about the heart. Home is where I love. Not where I live. I love you, Violet. You are home.”
His words pushed her happiness to another level. They were a balm upon a wound which still pained her all these years later. This man loved her—the real Violet, messy and awkward and everything in between.
“I suppose this whole time I’ve been searching for home, too,” she said.
“Home is us, together,” he whispered against her mouth. “I cannot promise I will find the words to comfort you when you need comforting or to encourage you when you need encouragement,” he confessed. “It has been too many years since last I tried. I can promise that I will do my best to show you how I care for you.”
Arthur put a hand to his chest, as though whatever rested within there was making itself known. “I am afraid I won’t be any good at it.”
“You will do fine,” she said.
“I have something to tell you,” he said. “A while back, when I didn’t know how long it would take for you to finish the formula, I . . .”
Violet shifted in discomfort and accidentally knocked her shoulder against his wound.
“Christ,” he gasped.
“Oh dear, I am so—”
“If you could just . . . ,” he said.
The two of them climbed to their feet, bumping, wincing, and stumbling together.
Violet sat on the bed and patted the mattress. “Come sit here,” she said. “I won’t bite.”
When he frowned in disappointment, Violet laughed. “Or perhaps I will.”
She winced again and set her foot out in front of her. Arthur sat so his wounded side faced away from her.
“I will never forgive what she did to you,” he said.
Violet patted his arm in a soothing manner. “She was selfish and thoughtless.”
He froze, then examined Violet’s face. “You let her go, didn’t you?” Indignation brought color to his cheeks.
Violet took a moment to admire him. “Did you know, Grantham arranged for Winters to resettle in Australia in return for not revealing Phoebe’s role in the Omnis. Winters is interested in farming sheep, strangely enough.”
Arthur would not be distracted. “Lady Phoebe cannot go unpunished for what she did, Violet. She betrayed you, and she bears some responsibility for a man’s death.”
“Yes, I know.” The pain of that betrayal would take a long time to fade. “Phoebe was so consumed with anger that she lost sight of the ends. Progress made with violence lasts only as long as you are the one holding the weapon. Now, she must learn to live after having set the weapon aside.”
“Are you . . . It sounds as though you might forgive her,” he said. “How can that be?”
“Do you still not believe in forgiveness, Arthur? You exiled yourself for twenty years because you could not absolve yourself. Will you deny Phoebe her chance for atonement?”
Arthur left Violet’s side and walked to the window, pulling back the curtain and staring broodily out at the street.
“She hurt you,” he muttered.
“She hurt you,” Violet said. “Only the fact that you are upright and in excellent looks has saved her from my wrath.”
“Hmm, ‘excellent looks,’ eh?” he said.
“I won’t argue that she’s caused damage and destruction, but she’s suffered damages of her own.” Violet shook her head, ridding herself of her secondhand sorrow. “Phoebe is brilliant and fierce. She will find her own way—a new way—in the world. I truly believe she will eventually balance the scales. Besides, Grey has hit upon the perfect retribution.”
Arthur crossed his arms in disbelief. “What might that be?”
“She’s being sent to America,” Violet confided with relish. “The western territories.”
“America?” Arthur scowled, scratching his chin. “I suppose that is almost as bad as being transported,” he allowed.
“The western territories, you say? It’s as democratic a place as you can imagine. Difficult circumstances out there. Hardly any big cities. Full of missionaries and fur trappers.” A wicked grin split his face. “She’ll hate it.”
“This means the danger is over now,” she reminded him.
His amusement dimmed, and his arms dropped to his sides, hands clenched in loose fists.
“I wrote a letter,” he said, staring at the windowpanes. Spears of sunlight fell on either side of him in straight lines, hitting the bare wood floors and melting into puddles of gold.
After a pause, he continued. “To Maria Bellingham.”
Violet felt sick to her stomach. It must have been the corset squeezing her lungs.
“When I received the reply, I wrote another letter,” he continued. “This time to the Queen.”
“The Queen?” Understanding dawned. “Oh, Arthur.”
“It is not easy to confess a youthful mistake to a monarch, especially when it had such dire consequences,” he said. “I told Her Majesty why I’d declined her offer of honors after the incident with Dickerson. She gave me a second chance to accept her commendations and the honors it entailed. I said yes.”
This most guarded of men had reached back into his past and asked for help. There would never again be any doubt in Violet’s mind that this man was made to love her.
Arthur turned his back on the world outside and faced her. “I wanted to clear my name. Not just to protect Athena’s Retreat, but for myself as well. I would not wish to see any child of mine be marked by scandal.”
Violet crossed the room and took his hands in hers. “I do not need the approval of the Queen to marry you, nor a sash full of medals covering your broad chest. Plain Arthur Kneland, son of Highland farmers, is more than good enough for me.”
Arthur frowned, but humor lit his gaze. “Are you so certain I was going to propose to you?”
“Not at all.” She laughed at his surprise and squeezed his hands. “In fact, I’d convinced myself you would not propose, out of some ill-conceived notion regarding the difference in our stations.”
“There are those who will say—”
“I care not a whit for what anyone else might say when it comes to my heart. I will not listen to naysayers or gossips,” she declared, setting her palm to his cheek. “Marry me, Arthur Kneland. Wake up with me every morning and fall asleep next to me every night.”
Arthur stroked her arm from elbow to wrist, then pressed his palm against the back of her hand and rested his forehead against hers.
“I will wake with you, Violet,” he vowed, “and your eyes will be my morning sun. Your joy will be the air I breathe, your name the last words on my lips each night until the end of my days. I will marry you and count myself the luckiest among men.”
Arthur demonstrated his acceptance of her proposal with a kiss both fierce and achingly tender. Then another, and another after that.
With reluctance, Viole
t broke away. “I’m afraid my need for oxygen must call a halt to this.” She peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “Unless you can help me?”
The clever man sprang into action—as much as he could, given the state of his wound. They relied on Violet’s superior knowledge of anatomy to find the most comfortable position in which he could help ease her distress.
“Arthur,” she said, reaching around and touching the back of his hand to halt the hasty unlacing of her dratted corset. “There is a good possibility that I cannot conceive. Will you . . . ?”
He pulled her into his arms and whispered a vow into her ear. “You and I will create a family. Whether with a child of our own or taking care of the women who come through the doors of Athena’s Retreat. Whenever we are together, we make a home. That is what I have been searching for my entire life.”
As the last of winter’s grip fell away in a blaze of April sun, the trees unfurled their tiny buds, and flowers raised their faces to the sky. All around them, and deep within them, spring had arrived.
Author’s Note
WHY A SECRET society? While there were well-respected female scientists in the early nineteenth century, they were few and far between. Only a handful were given recognition by their male peers, including Elizabeth Fulhame, Sophie Germain, and Mary Somerville, who are the inspiration for some of the characters in A Lady’s Formula for Love. Despite their hard work and important discoveries, society pushed back against their forays into the male-dominated world of science. Female scientists, many of whom were self taught, were often ridiculed, their work was used without credit, and they were labeled as “unnatural.” Those of you familiar with scientific history know that some of the club members’ discoveries, such as the aerosol delivery system, predate the actual discoveries by a few years. Who knows what other real-life advances were never realized because Athena’s Retreat lies firmly in the realm of fiction? And don’t get me started on the lack of childcare . . .
All mistakes in this book are my own, and most likely the product of wishful thinking.
Acknowledgments
This book exists because of the unwavering and generous support of my husband. He’s one of the good guys. Thanks as well to my children, who light my life and bring me such joy, and to Mom and Doug for all their help. Thank you to my lovely and very patient agent, Ann Leslie Tuttle. Many thanks to my delightful editor, Sarah Blumenstock, for taking a chance on me and the ladies of Athena’s Retreat. Thanks as well to Anita Mumm for being the voice I hear in my head when I wonder if I’m being kind to a character. Thank you to Jessica Mangicaro and the hardworking Berkley marketing/PR team. I am so lucky to be blessed with an amazing group of women who lift me up and carry me through the good times and the bad. Thank you to the Park Ave Moms and the Highland Hotties for all the encouragement, wisdom, and laughter. Thank you to my RWA contest buddies, Felicia Grossman and Jeanine Englert, for their support, and a special shout-out to Minerva Spencer for all her advice and reassurance over the past three years. And to all the moms who just put the kids to bed and finished the dishes and are fighting off sleep in order to do what they love most—I see you. It will happen.
Readers Guide
A Lady’s Formula for Love
Elizabeth Everett
Discussion Questions
In the book, Violet draws a great deal of strength and solace from her friends. At the same time, she feels removed from them when they make light of her insecurities. Do you have friends with whom you have complicated or ambivalent relationships? How do Letty and Lady Phoebe push Violet to be a better person, and what does she give to them?
While many people associate the Victorian era with the movement for women’s suffrage, the first few years of Victoria’s reign were socially conservative, a reaction against the excesses of the Regency period and the economic instability following the Napoleonic wars. In addition, with the rise of the middle class, women’s roles as keepers of hearth and home became romanticized, and society had less tolerance for outliers. Do you think the secret scientists at Athena’s Retreat would have been accepted for their pioneering discoveries, or was anonymity their only choice? How much did their financial and social circumstances come into play? What about women today? What commonalties do successful women share in our time?
Even though Violet did not have children, and had enough wealth that she could hire servants, she still could not manage to juggle her study of chemistry and the running of a large household. Which role do you think she should have prioritized? How many women do you think gave up the pursuit of their passions to focus on their familial duties? How much has this changed in almost two hundred years, and how much has stayed the same for women?
Class still mattered in early Victorian England. Do you think Arthur and Violet will continue to face apprehension about their relationship from people of Violet’s aristocratic class? Do shared values trump shared backgrounds?
There are no straightforward villains in this book. Even Adam Winters has multiple layers to him. For example, even though he doesn’t support Winthram’s transition, he still loves and misses him. Do you prefer ambivalence in your villains, or do you want a traditional “bad guy” in your books?
One theme running throughout the book is the importance of self-love. Both Violet and Arthur must come to some peace with their internal conflicts before they can fully love each other. How do the other characters in this book inspire this journey? What are some impediments to self-love that women still face today?
Violet’s late husband found female desire to be distasteful, and throughout history, women have been made to feel ashamed of their sexuality. How much has this changed over time?
Lady Phoebe’s experiences illustrate the phenomenon of the silencing of the female voice in society. While many women accepted that their ideas and opinions could be talked over and ignored because of their gender, Phoebe raged against this practice. Ultimately, she believed that women were justified in using fear and violence to gain attention. Violet disagreed, calling for collaborative advocacy. Does Phoebe have any of your sympathy? Are some marginalized women facing the same choices today?
Athena’s Retreat is loosely based on the women’s social clubs that sprang up in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Some were modeled after the gentlemen’s clubs, others devoted to politics and education. One was even named for Mary Somerville, the Scottish mathematician. Do you think the tradition of single-sex clubs and schools is beneficial? Would you have belonged to one?
In A Lady’s Formula for Love, there are explosive (pun intended) results to the silencing of the female voice by society. Have you had instances in your personal or professional life where you struggled to be heard because of your gender? Today there is controversy over the role of scientists in public discourse. Can you draw parallels between the necessity for secret scientists in the novel and the role of scientists today?
Don’t miss Letty and Greycliff’s story, coming spring 2022 from Berkley Jove!
London, 1843
A WOMAN’S PLACE IS in the home!”
Miss Letitia Fenley stopped in her tracks at that declaration. What a choker! Everyone knew a woman’s place was in charge, if you wanted something done right.
Another winter had come to London and stubbornly refused to be gone. These bleak weeks of April more resembled late February, an in-between time when a sullen sun did little more than peek out from behind the clouds now and then, waiting for the world to be pretty enough to bother with once more.
Letty Fenley and her brother, Sam, traversed the streets of Clerkenwell. Strung out in a grim leer, buildings stained dark yellow and brown from decades of soot and humidity squeezed together like crooked teeth, the second and third stories leaning over to rub against the ones next door. The cobbles beneath their feet were greasy and half submerged beneath a mix of mud, manure, and straw.
Letty stood on her toes at the edge of the crowd to better view the happenings. Another “pea souper” of a fog had sprung up, and invisible motes of coal smut coated the back of her throat from breathing in the noxious air. She pulled the high collar of her mantle around her mouth and nose.
“Why are you stopping?” grumbled her brother, eyes fixed on the road as he tried to keep his boots clear of the worst of the ruts, his head no doubt filled with work. “Bad enough I have to take time away from the store to escort you to your club. Worse is when time is wasted by your . . .”
Glancing up, Sam took in at the scene before them for the first time. “What nonsense is this?” He squinted through the fog at the commotion. “Who’re these never-sweats blocking the street at midday when there is business to be conducted?”
With no time to read anything other than accounting ledgers, Sam had missed the latest news regarding the rise of the Guardians of Domesticity. Groveling at the feet of the aristocracy and blaming women for the ills of society, the Guardians of Domesticity hid behind a facade of respectability with lectures and charity work that claimed to celebrate the traditional British family and women’s role as keeper of the hearth. Their true colors came into view when they found a business contributing to the “downfall of civilization” by employing young women in their shops and factories.
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