I romped through Archer’s first series scattering five star reviews like rose petals, and this series is already going the same way. The author has a wonderfully humorous style of writing not just the upper classes but also the servant class, which adds a whole new dimension to the book.
Here’s the premise: six noble ladies who have not themselves had daughters decide to each sponsor a girl through the season, choosing someone who would not otherwise have the opportunity and hoping to triumphantly see each girl suitably married. The first girl chosen is Georgiana Wilcox, daughter of an impoverished baron, who is to be brought into society by Lady Mendleton. Like all the sponsoring ladies, Lady Mendelton has a mental image of how a daughter ought to be – sweet, gentle, demure and (naturally) highly accomplished at all the maidenly arts. Georgiana, she discovers, is not like that. Her unconventional upbringing has taught her to ride, but astride, not sidesaddle, she can’t sing, can’t play an instrument, doesn’t paint or draw or net purses. She’s also very direct, and no shrinking violet. Fortunately, she can dance, and she’s also smart, solving a murder puzzle before anyone else and winning a meeting with the Queen.
She’s been brought to London to find a husband, and there’s just one man who’s out of bounds, and that is Lady Mendleton’s own son, Jasper, Viscount Langley, who his mother has hopes of marrying off to Lady Annabelle Rumsford, a marquess’s daughter. Needless to say, Jasper turns out to be just the man to give Georgiana the wobbles, and it seems he might have the wobbles for her too…
Woven through this fairly straightforward romance is a somewhat implausible mystery involving Queen Charlotte, mad King George and the Stuart pretender to the throne. Jasper acts as an agent for the Queen, trying to find out who is passing information about the King’s madness to the newspapers. It has to be said at once that Jasper must be the world’s worst investigator, for he consistently jumps to the wrong conclusions, and never sees the patently obvious solution right under his own nose. For instance, having worked out that the information is spread from his own household and could be emanating from any of the residents, he then decides it must be Georgiana and sets a trap for her by leaving false information where it could easily be spotted, not just by her, but by anyone in the household. When that information is published, he decides he’s got proof that it’s her. Basically, he’s an idiot.
Georgiana’s progress through London society is very funny, especially the attempts to mount a horse fitted with a sidesaddle for the first time, which had me laughing till I cried. I’ve never before encountered a version of the Regency where a lady would drive to Hyde Park in a carriage with a groom bringing her horse, and then mount up in the park. It might have been done that way, I suppose, and it certainly makes for a gloriously public faux pas, but I’d have thought most riders would mount up in the mews behind the house, or the horse might be brought to the door, and then they’d ride to the park.
Can I just mention here how much I dislike Regency heroines who ride astride? I know it makes her unconventional and feisty and independent and all that jazz, but it also makes her outrageously scandalous. Whether you do it sensibly, in trousers, or impractically in a skirt that flies up and reveals most of your legs, it would be a shocking thing to do, as bad as the legendary bad thing of tying your garter in public. Even in a voluminous riding habit, designed to keep a lady’s legs decorously hidden, riding astride would reveal more than any respectable maiden should do. If you’ve seen season 2 of Bridgerton, you’ll know exactly what I mean. And as for jumping onto a horse astride in a ballgown – no. Just, no. And while I’m on the subject, one of Georgiana’s outings to the park (in a carriage, with the horse brought by a groom) has the groom riding her horse. So either the groom was riding sidesaddle or Georgiana was planning to ride astride. Either way, it’s a no no.
The romance isn’t the most sizzling in the world. The couple spend very little time together, and when they do we don’t really get much insight into what attracts them to each other apart from he’s handsome and she’s beautiful. But there are some nice moments of introspection. She’s sensibly trying not to be drawn to him, knowing she has an obligation to make a good match and he’s out of bounds. And he rather sweetly agonises over the right time to make his move. If he goes in too late, someone else might snaffle her, but he has to be sure. It’s tricky, and (frankly) he’s not the sharpest knife in the block, so he dithers a bit, but it was a nice insight. I’ve always known that it was difficult for women – does he like me or not, is he going to offer or not, and if someone who’s just meh offers, do I take him or hold out for the one I really want? But it wasn’t easy for men either!
The climax is pretty over the top, all things considered, with thicko Jasper getting himself in hot water, and Georgiana and half the servants having to rescue him. But it’s all quite neatly done, it brings all that romantic dithering to a resounding end, and it’s very funny, to boot, so no complaints from me. The writing is very readable, although with some Americanisms that triggered my (admittedly over-sensitive) pedantometer. Buckingham Palace was twice called simply Buckingham, which was pretty odd, and wasn’t it still Buckingham House at this point? We don’t have faucets in England, only taps. Dancing cards were a Victorian idea. And the author seems to have an aversion to adverbs, so there’s ‘arriving unexpected’ instead of ‘arriving unexpectedly’.
None of that mattered though, because the whole book was just so much fun that I’m going for five stars again.
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