This is one of those rollicking, lighthearted Regency romps that requires the reader to leave absolutely all rational thought in a cupboard somewhere and simply roll with it. Sometimes, if the characters are charming enough I can do that, but there was just too much unlikability here for me to manage it.
Here’s the premise: Jane Halsey and sister Belle are living in near destitution with an aunt in an obscure corner of London. The only way to rescue themselves from ever-worsening poverty is for one of them to marry a rich husband, but how can they ever meet a likely candidate, when they know no one and go nowhere? But one day, they have a stroke of luck – they attract the attention of bonkers Lord Romeo, the younger son of a duke, who’s grown up in Greece and become enamoured of all things Greek. He spies Jane and immediately recognises her as Athene, and wants to paint her, naked if possible, and then marry her.
Jane has no interest in Romeo for herself, but he’d suit Belle perfectly, so the sisters fall in with Romeo’s plans. But along with Romeo comes his big brother, the Marquis of Renfrew and heir to the dukedom, who thinks clever, managing Jane is just the wife to keep Romeo under control. He tags along to encourage Romeo’s suit, but ends up attracting the attention of Jane herself, who thinks he’s pursuing her.
Now, this is where I lost patience with our heroine. Jane’s supposed to be a smart cookie, but why on earth does she imagine for one moment that she, the daughter of a mere baronet, currently homeless and virtually dowerless, would be the object of a future duke? She casually calls him Renfrew, as if she’d known him all her life, assuming he’ll dance with her and being thoroughly presumptuous and encroaching and obnoxious. Knowing that Romeo has set his sights on her, she must surely see that his brother can hardly be courting her as well. So I disliked her pretty thoroughly at this point, and cringed every time she made another assumption.
As for Renfrew, even though he suspects that she’s forming an attachment to him, he does nothing about it, and certainly fails to convey to her that his only interest is in fostering Romeo’s suit. He convinces himself he’s mistaken, and carries on quietly falling in love with her himself. And then things get even sillier, and build to one of the most ridiculous finales I’ve ever read.
Now, this wasn’t a bad read, exactly. It’s as well written as Joan Smith’s books always are, and there are certainly moments of laugh-out-loud fun. But the oddball charm of Romeo in Babe palls in its repetition here, where his oblivious straightforwardness turns into something much more devious, the main pairing of Jane and Renfrew entirely lack charm, the humour of comedy sidekick Munch fell flat and the ending was just too unbelievable. Joan Smith is always a bit hit or miss for me, and this one was definitely a miss. Not unreadable, but only three stars. If you like the sound of Romeo, read Babe instead, a much more fun book.
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