We chat with author Suzanne Enoch about A Duke Never Tells, which is a sparkling new regency romcom in which an heiress disguises herself as a maid in her fiance’s household to see if he really is a scoundrel as the gossips claim. PLUS we have an excerpt to share with you at the end of the interview!
Hi, Suzanne! Can you tell our readers a bit about yourself?
Hi! I live in Southern California, knew I was going to be a writer from about age 5, and to my parents’ dismay, never had a backup plan. I LOVE anything Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Marvel–and collect statues and action figures (they’re not dolls!) of my favorite characters. At this moment, I live in a house with one sister, two nephews, my mother, one dog named Tiki, a parakeet named Fozzie, a tortoise named Lucky Jo, some tropical fish, and about 20 different species of reptiles–some of which occasionally escape their habitats and wind up under my bed. It’s like an entire circus lives under my bigtop. Thank goodness for headphones.
When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?
As a young kid, I read and loved the Little House books, and Laura Ingalls Wilder was a big inspiration. A few years later, I read Joy Adamson and Jane Goodall, and I knew I would go to Africa and probably adopt a cheetah or chimp and raise them and write about my adventures. Then at about the same time I realized there were deadly snakes in Africa, AND I saw Star Wars and realized I could just make up stories and not be killed by a cobra.
Quick lightning round! Tell us:
- The first book you ever remember reading: Little House in the Big Woods
- The one that made you want to become an author: All of them.
- The one that you can’t stop thinking about: In the Shadow of Man, by Jane Goodall
Your latest novel, A Duke Never Tells, is out now! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?
Oh, boy. Being someone else is freeing.
What can readers expect?
Warm-hearted mayhem. I refer to A Duke Never Tells as a screwball comedy in the vein of the old Hollywood comedies. Smart people, fast, sharp dialogue, situations that are a little over-the-top, and the whole thing enveloped by a big warm, happy hug. Love makes you silly, and there’s a lot of love in this book.
Where did the inspiration for A Duke Never Tells come from?
I’ve been watching old comedies and reading old plays, and this one emerged as a combination of My Man Godfrey and The Importance of Being Earnest. I’ve read mistaken identity books before, but I thought it would be fun if no one discovered the disguise, and the character was stuck being that other person far past what they were prepared for
Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed writing or exploring?
I particularly enjoyed figuring out James Clay’s character. It’s one thing to have a rogue with a well-earned reputation for being bad, but it’s also important for him to be someone readers like–or can come to like. The “why” questions are the most fun to explore. The “Why is he like that?” was the most interesting part of the book for me to explore, and it kind of came about during the writing process.
Did you face any challenges whilst writing? How did you overcome them?
I went through several ways of dividing points of view, deciding if each chapter should be from one character’s point of view, etc., because in a book with at least four people pretending to be other people, there are a lot of things to keep track of. The chapter idea turned out to be the one that worked best, and on top of that I named the character we would be following at the beginning of each chapter.
What’s next for you?
My next book is Better Than a Duke, out early in 2026. It’s about a widow and widower who end up living next door to each other, and whose son and daughter, respectively, decide their parents should be together no matter what other plans said parents might have.
Lastly, what books are you looking forward to picking up this year?
I’m really enjoying Stephanie Laurens’s Barnaby Adair books, kind of a cozy mystery/romance combination. Her latest one is Marriage and Murder, and I can’t wait to sit down with it.
There’s also Karen Hawkins’ Dove Pond series, which mixes small town/women’s fiction/romance/magic all together. I haven’t had time to read The Bookshop of Hidden Dreams yet, because I can’t read while I’m writing. It’s next up, though.
EXCERPT
Prologue
Meg Pinwell
“What do you think?” Lady Meg Pinwell glided into the morning room and sank into a deep curtsy. “Is it too much?” “Two ostrich plumes sticking out of your head? If you have to
ask, I think you already know the answer.” Meg’s aunt, Clara Bos- ley, snorted and returned her attention to the book in her hands.
Pirouetting so she could see her reflection in the front window, Meg curtsied again, paying particular attention to the bend and lift of the long, white feathers. “I think it’s very regal.”
“You look like a ship with luffing sails,” Clara commented, not looking up, and only the slightest of smiles hinting at her amusement. “Lean to port or starboard too far, and you’ll capsize.”
Meg squinted at her reflection as she adjusted her white elbow-length gloves. “Well, this is disappointing. I want to look like a great lady, not a sinking ship.”
“You either are a great lady, or you are not, Meg. One plume or two won’t make a difference, except to let everyone know you’re trying too hard and secretly don’t think yourself worthy of any plumage.”
Meg gathered the skirt of her white presentation gown and flopped onto the sofa beside her aunt. “You’re supposed to say encouraging things, Auntie. I’m expected to make a good match, you know. Papa even went to London last week to see if he could find any gossip threads that might lead to an exceptional marriage for me.”
That clearly caught Clara’s attention. She closed her book and set it aside. “Your father is an earl, my love, and your mother a countess. If they expect you to improve your station over their own, it leaves you no option but to marry either a marquis or a duke. Or a prince, I suppose, though Prinny’s unmarried brothers are much too old and fat for you. They’re being ridiculous.” She reached up, batting a finger at one of the ostrich plumes rising above Meg’s head. “And two ostrich plumes will not guarantee you a duchy, any more than one would condemn you to a sheep farm.”
“But this is for my debut. In front of the Queen. I have to be confident and demure and proper. With the correct amount of plumage.”
“What you generally are, Meg, my dear, is memorable. And far wittier than your parents would prefer.”
“Yes, but there’s good memorable and bad memorable. I don’t want to be the bad kind.”
“You always look the good memorable, you know. Even with no ostrich plumes. I overheard Tom Harris calling you a black-haired beauty just yesterday.” Her mouth twitched. “And then I told him you would be just as beautiful with blue hair, or none at all.”
Meg sighed. “Thank you, I think, but I’d like the plumes and my hair to do the work of impressing people at Court, so I don’t have to speak other than perhaps to say, ‘Your Highness’ as I curtsy.” Shifting to face her more squarely, Clara narrowed her eyes. “Many people would wish to have a quarter of your good humor, Meg.
It is as much a part of you as your hair, and unlike your looks, you can choose whether to display it or not. Wit is not a flaw.”
“According to Mama, it is. ‘Why do you always have to say something silly the moment the conversation slows? Can’t you simply be a polite, well-mannered young lady?’” By now she had that conversation memorized, she’d heard it so often. “I always begin well, but then I make a comment I shouldn’t. Suddenly I’m a vain minx who requires everyone to notice me simply because I said that the brown patch on the flank of Mr. Harker’s new cow looked like a gentleman’s naughty bits. Which it did.”
“So much so that he sold the cow again. Meg, you have a grand, exuberant sense of humor. If you were a man, you would be applauded for it.”
“But I’m not a man.” Meg smoothed the soft silk of her gown. It was a fine dress—a bit plain because evidently plainness equated with chastity—very much in the tradition of the attire all young ladies wore for their presentation to the Queen at the outset of their debut Season in London. “I can’t go about saying whatever comes into my head. And I need plume advice. Everyone else will be wearing their finest. What if they all have two plumes, and I’m the only one with one?”
“Then you’ll be noticed for your modesty. Whereas, if you’re the only one with two plumes in your hair y—”
“Capsizing galleon.” Sighing, Meg nodded. That made the feathers bounce, shifting her unruly black hair and the pins that held the things in place to starboard, and with a grin she did it again. “I do see your point. A stiff wind might do me in.”
Clara reached over to pat Meg’s hand. “If you’re worried about being an original, there is nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing ordinary about me, and I am quite happy.”
Snorting, Meg squeezed Clara’s fingers. Yes, they were aunt and niece, but with only eight years between them, they were closer to being sisters. And Clara was certainly her dearest friend. “No, there is not an ordinary thing about you. And if it were up to me, I would wear a half dozen ostrich feathers dyed in all the colors of the rainbow. But outlandish ladies don’t find good matches, and I do want to make a good match. And to make a good impression.”
“You want to be ordinary? My goodness.”
“Clara, this is why Mama worries about us spending time tOgether,” Meg whispered, only half jesting. “What I want, I think, is to be very close to completely acceptable, and then just a little bit . . . more.”
