Never was a book more aptly titled – strange capers, indeed. I had no idea what was going on, or who was on which side, or what was true and what was just an outright lie for most of the book. And the romance was a bit strange, too. But despite all that, it was wildly funny and I enjoyed it hugely.
Here’s the premise: Constance Pethel lives at a rundown old manor house, Thornbury, on the south coast with a widow, Lady Savage, who for years has been wheedling funds out of the house’s owner, Lord Aiglon, for refubishment, which she then never carries out. Constance has learnt to go along with Rachel’s manipulations for a quiet life, although she doesn’t really approve. The days and weeks and years drift by, and the only excitement is the prospect of Bonaparte invading. To that end, a militia has been got up locally, but a shipment of rifles for them has mysteriously disappeared, probably into French hands. Into this placid existence comes Lord Aiglon himself, and the two ladies soon have more to worry about than Aiglon discovering that the funds for refurbishment have been pocketed by Rachel.
Aiglon is a curious sort of hero, but one that’s all too common in books of this age. He’s top-to-toe aristocratic entitlement, needless to say, but when he makes a play for Constance, is he just flirting or does he have something more serious in mind, and if so what? Constance can’t make him out (and neither can the reader initially) since he tells her many things that sound reprehensible (that he’s gambled away his fortune, he’s hiding because he’s killed a man in a duel, he routinely gets blind drunk, and a whole lot more besides). But every time she begins to suspect that he’s not really as bad as he makes himself out to be, she uncovers some other element of his behaviour that makes him seem even more of a villain. Might he even be involved in traitorous activities like selling arms to the French? And all the time, he’s relentlessly pursuing Constance, and even sweeping her into his arms for a passionate kiss without so much as a by-your-leave. That’s the aristocratic entitlement at work.
Constance, meanwhile, who has more hair than wit, is swept this way and that by the constantly veering lord (he’s an earl, we find out eventually), quite unable to make up her mind whether he’s trustworthy or not, on any level. She’s also played for a fool by Rachel, who doesn’t hesitate to send her to keep watch on Aiglon or listen at keyholes, which she does without a second thought. Like I said, more hair than wit. Frankly, it’s hard to see what Aiglon sees in her.
The finale is completely over the top, but at least it brings the romance to a resounding conclusion, with a little bit more build-up than is common in this vintage. Some Regencies from this era leave the romance to the very last page, the hero proposes and that’s it, but we do get a bit more than that here, with some nice romantic moments to enjoy. That was, frankly, the best part of the melodramatic ending which was all too silly for words.
But the complexities of the slowly unravelling plot, and the constant blatant lies and machinations of all the principal players (apart from Constance, of course, who has no clue what’s going on) are very funny, and I enjoyed it all enormously. It’s awash with Americanisms (we didn’t and still don’t have real estate agencies here, or ‘everything’ stores), but that’s par for the course with this author. If you want a change from modern angsty Regencies, Joan Smith is well worth a try, but be warned that her books are very variable. I rate most as four or five stars, but I’ve had the odd one or two I just couldn’t finish. Happily, this one is definitely a five star for me.
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