A few decades ago sweeping historical romances were all the rage. As of the writing of this novel, however, “Regency” historical romances that include dozens of characters, span many years, and take place in multiple unfamiliar locations are far less common. But I was weaned on Dorothy Dunnett and John Jakes, as well as Tolkien and McCaffrey, and occasionally I adore writing big novels as much as I enjoy reading them. So when Amarantha and Gabriel and the women of Kallin explained the story they wished me to write for them, (despite not inconsiderable anxiety) I bowed to the request.

To my readers who love my books, whether big or small or somewhere in between, I am so happy you found me and honored that you stay with me. And to my editor, Lucia Macro, who not only does not counsel me against writing books like this, but improves them immeasurably, as well as to everyone at HarperCollins who brings them so beautifully to bookshelves—especially my publisher Liate Stehlik, and Carolyn Coons, Shawn Nicholls, Caroline Perny, and everyone in the Production and Art Departments, among others—I offer thanks upon thanks.

The history of the Caribbean in the early nineteenth century is incredibly complex. The actions of individuals, communities, and entire nations during this period are equally as horrifying and heartbreaking as they are fascinating and inspiring. Indeed I found in real history every inspiration for Gabriel’s project at Kallin and for Amarantha’s twisty, turny path toward understanding the wide world and her own heart.

The story of the women of Kallin first took root in my imagination when I read The History of Mary Prince: A West Indian Slave, a short memoir by a former enslaved woman, in which she describes decades of abuse and suffering at the hands of her captors, as well as her religious conversion and marriage in the West Indies, and her escape during a journey to England. Olaudah Equiano’s earlier and much longer memoir, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, was wildly popular in England (eight editions were published between 1789 and 1797, while Equiano traveled throughout England giving lectures that were attended by hundreds), and helped inspire Parliament to pass The Slave Trade Act of 1807, which criminalized the trade from Africa. Both memoirs inspired in my imagination the idea for Torquil Sterling’s project—and Gabriel’s secret—as well as Tabitha’s story.

Mary Prince’s narrative begins with a preface by Thomas Pringle, a Scotsman who offered her a paying job after she escaped her captors, and who saw to publishing her memoir as part of his petition to ensure her legal freedom wherever she might travel in Britain, including back to the West Indies. Pringle notes: “The narrative was taken down by Mary’s own lips by a lady who happened to be at the time residing in my family as a visitor.” This became the model for Tabitha and Amarantha’s writing project, which begins while Amarantha is living with the Shaws. Edinburgh bubbled with abolitionist fervor in the 1820s: the Edinburgh Abolition Society, established in 1823 by well-to-do merchants and professional men is the real historical social world in which I imagined John Shaw and Alice Campbell active.

Most of the history one reads when studying abolitionism is not, however, positively inspiring. Paul’s disgusted words about how planters equated enslaved men and women to livestock is historical. A particularly relevant example: After the devastating hurricane of 1780, the governor of Barbados wrote, “The depopulation of the negroes and the cattle, especially the horned kind, is very great, which must . . . be a cause of great distress to the planters,” but that “fortunately few people of consequence were amongst” the thousands dead (quoted in Schwartz, Sea of Storms, p. 94–5). Likewise, when Paul tells Amarantha that enslaved people on Barbados demanded emancipation, he isn’t speaking of a new phenomenon. For decades already, enslaved people had been demanding their freedom in both small and large rebellions across the Caribbean. Plantation owners retaliated swiftly and brutally. The only successful slave revolt ever, however, began on the French colony Saint-Domingue in 1791. Upon wresting independence from France in 1804 that island nation became Haiti, the homeland of Gabriel’s partner, Xavier Du Lac.

Likewise, Paul’s position that a missionary’s project should be to convert enslaved people to Christianity to ensure the salvation of their eternal souls, but not to fight for abolition, was common in the British West Indies during these decades in particular. After Parliament criminalized the slave trade in 1807 and rumors began circulating that full abolition was coming soon, the wealthy planter class grew increasingly mistrustful of politicians in London, claiming they didn’t understand matters in the islands. During these years, missionaries on the islands were more acutely aware than ever that they walked a fragile line. They were more likely to caution their flocks against demanding freedom and instead encourage them to focus on improving the state of their souls for the afterlife. The work of abolitionists throughout Britain—in England, Scotland, the West Indies, and the east as well—finally did result in the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, which made Britain the first colonial empire to illegalize slavery.

For the sake of this story, I represented one matter disproportionate to historical reality: Tabitha, her husband, and Charlotte’s brother were all able to purchase their freedom from their masters. In fact, although not unheard of, this happened rarely. But in my story, for Charlotte’s brother to plan to purchase her freedom, and for Jonathan Aiken to own even a small mill that Tabitha could inherit, she and both men had to be free people.

I offer copious thanks to the scholars whose work I depended on to write this novel, including (although not limited to) Sandie Blaise, Trevor Burnard, Emilia Viotti da Costa, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., Gad Heuman (whose generous counsel enabled me to include Eliza and Mr. Meriwether’s and Penny and Jonah’s marriages), Carson Holloway of Duke University Libraries, Alison Lodge, Teresa Moore, and Colleen A. Vasconcellos. For Stuart B. Schwartz’s gracefully written Sea of Storms: A History of Hurricanes in the Greater Caribbean from Columbus to Katrina, I am enormously grateful, as well as for the Pierpont Morgan Library’s gorgeous edition of The Drake Manuscript, which was the inspiration for the old duke’s collection of natural specimens and Libby’s catalogue. The title of Chapter Five, “Lords of the Ocean,” comes from Ian W. Toll’s engaging Six Frigates. And, although a tenth-century poet has no obviously direct influence on the historical events in this novel, when I came across Symeon the New Theologian’s poem, it described Amarantha and Gabriel’s early awakening to their love so perfectly that I could not resist borrowing from these lines for Chapter Six’s title: “We awaken as the beloved / In every last part of our body.” The world of the nineteenth century was an interconnected place, when ships of colonial nations and mercantile fleets connected peoples and goods across the globe. I like to imagine that some scholar whom Gabriel encountered along his sea travels introduced him to the medieval poem, and that his heart recognized the words.

For brilliant scholars Celeste-Marie Bernier, Thavolia Glymph, Martha Jones, and Adriane Lentz-Smith, who read this manuscript and offered suggestions I am especially and deeply grateful.

Borthwick Castle and the surrounding lands inspired Haiknayes, and I am very grateful to the good folks who now manage Borthwick for the tour. Kallin—which architecturally is an amalgam of several Scottish manor houses and castles that I adore—is situated in a place that I renamed for my novels: my fictional Glen Irvine is the real Glen Orchy. Just as other places in Scotland that I visited while researching this series, it is spectacularly beautiful, made all the more appealing by the wonderful people I have met throughout this gracious country.

I thank my incredible agent, Kimberly Whalen, for everything she does on my behalf. To the Lady Authors—Caroline Linden, Miranda Neville, and Maya Rodale—I am ever grateful for ideas and support. To Georgann T. Brophy, Donna Finlay, Meg Huliston, Beverly Jenkins, Mary Brophy Marcus, and Stephanie McCullough, whose reading and comments made this a much better book, and to Marcia Abercrombie, Georgie C. Brophy, Sonja Foust, and Lee Galbreath, who saved me yet again: I employ no hyperbole in saying that I could not do this without you. I offer special thanks to Mary Brophy Marcus for the delightful map of Amarantha’s journeys on my website, and to Cari Gunsallus, author assistant extraordinaire. To my son and my Idaho, for patience and love and keeping me grounded in reality, thank you.

Finally, to my husband, Professor Laurent Dubois, who first introduced me to Caribbean history, and who for this series put me in touch with his colleagues, recommended books and articles, offered me ideas, helped me create a fictional network of people entirely grounded in real history, read the manuscript and gave me crucial feedback, reassured me in my worries (again and again), and pretty much lent me his entire library to research this novel, I haven’t sufficient words of thanks. So I have dedicated The Duke to him, and to my father (in memory) and brothers and all the good men I know and have known—as friends or from afar—who work hard every day to make this world a place of justice for all.

With each novel I write, my fictional world of early nineteenth-century Britain grows. Gabriel first appears in The Rogue (Constance and Saint’s story) and The Earl (Emily’s story), which both take place during Part III of The Duke. Gabriel also has a cameo in my novella The Pirate and I. Amarantha first appears in When a Scot Loves a Lady of my Falcon Club series, and again in The Earl. And here and there throughout The Duke one can find passing mentions of characters from my other books too.

Gabriel and Amarantha now have their much-deserved happily ever after. But an intrepid lady is determined to become a member of Edinburgh’s exclusively male Royal College of Surgeons—despite the delicious distractions of a certain exiled royal who requires her for another sort of project altogether. My Devil’s Duke series concludes with Libby and Ziyaeddin’s love story in The Prince, coming in the summer of 2018 from Avon Books.

For more information about all of my books and series, and for bonus scenes, timelines, and family trees, I hope you will visit my website at www.KatharineAshe.com. I love hearing from readers.