I will confess, I have a huge problem with the premise of this story, that a single woman of twenty-three could be an acceptable chaperone for two debutantes in the London season. In the country, yes, no problem at all. In a village or small(ish) town or somewhere like Bath, certainly. But London? Almack’s? The theatre? Balls and crowded evening entertainments? No, absolutely not. Only a married woman could fulfil the role, to my mind, and that made the whole book a bit problematic for me. But everything else was well-nigh perfect, so I can let it go.
Here’s the premise: Lady Sophronia Hadlow did her best to find a husband when she was brought out into society, but her unusual height meant that she was unsuccessful, just as her mother, Lady Chelmarsh, feared. Sophy retired from the fray thankfully to allow her younger sisters their turn, but now she’s called upon to return to London. Her mother is bringing out both Sophy’s younger sister Harriet and a cousin, Susan Tyneham, but she may be called away to the confinement of another daughter, Frances. If so, she’ll expect Sophy to take over as chaperone.
So, this is shaping up to be your run-of-the-mill ‘season’ book, with the usual backdrop of modistes, Hyde Park, Almack’s, eligible gentlemen and fortune hunters, etc, etc, and so it is, in some ways, but it has a lot more depth than the usual. The way Sophy is drawn in by Lord Rothley is perfectly believable, and the reader feels the same giddiness as Sophy – is she actually flirting? Is he flirting with her? Sophy has never had an admirer before, so she’s a bit out of her depth, yet never silly with it. She’s that perfect heroine, sensible, quick-witted, easy in society, whether male or female, and really, it’s hard to see why she wasn’t snapped up years ago. And no, her unusual height isn’t a valid excuse – plenty of men are tall, too, and some of them are capable of admiring a woman for more than just looks or dowry or breeding.
Her sister Harriet is a fairly typical debutante, rather timid and trying not to put a foot wrong, but the cousin, Susan, is a fascinating character. Although she’s an innocent in many ways, just like Harriet, she enjoys a power over men that has them almost instantly at her feet. And when I say she enjoys it, she really does, even though she doesn’t really understand the dangerous game she plays. She just can’t stop playing, though. She drops a package for a passing gentleman to pick up. She even flirts with the male servants. She pretends to let her horse run wild, so that she can be ‘rescued’ by some passing cavalrymen. And when a man admires the gentle Harriet, she sets out to steal him. Needless to say, this leads to all sorts of problems for Susan herself, and also for Sophy and family. And when Lady Chelmarsh is forced to decamp to her married daughter in a hurry, it’s left to Sophy to steer Harriet and Susan towards suitable matches and try to prevent Susan from destroying their chances entirely.
And into this oddly nerve-wracking scenario come the suitors. Lord Bollington, an early admirer of Susan’s, is put off when she tries to increase his ardour by making him jealous. Sir Esmond Fawley is a pleasant and respectable man who seems oddly drawn to the uncontrollable Susan. There’s Lord Tyneham, Susan’s boorish and stuffy brother, who has decided he’s going to marry Sophy, whether she likes it or not. And then there’s Lord Rothley, who seems to have something of a reputation and is definitely rakishly attractive, but when he starts dancing attendance on the three young women, Lady Chelmarsh warns Sophy against him in no uncertain terms. And yet… she finds him almost irresistible, and she feels instinctively that she can trust him.
The plot unfolds in ways that are anything but predictable. If Sophy and Harriet and several of the men are rather too ‘nice’ and would perhaps be bland in other contexts, the wildcard Susan always stirs things up in interesting and unexpected ways. And the writing is superb, in every way, with a perfect Regency tone, no typos and (apart from the 23-year-old unmarried chaperone) no major historical errors. More than that, there’s a complexity to the characters that’s rarely seen in this genre. So despite the chaperonage, I can’t give this less than five stars, and recommend it to anyone looking for a literate and beautifully realised portrait of the Regency.
One of very few books whose release date I marked in the calendar! Couldn’t wait to read Victor’s story (the most interesting character of the series), plus the explanation for how the duke died in the duel. Was it worth the wait? Absolutely! I loved Victor, as I suspected I would, and although the revelation of what happened at the duel wasn’t particularly surprising, there was enough real tension to drive the plot along very nicely. One word of warning: because of the nature of the plot, which culminates in all the principal characters in Brussels at the time of the Battle of Waterloo, it makes far more sense to have read the preceding books first.
This was an interesting and unusual diversion from the well-worn tracks of Regency romances. The hero is a vicar, for one thing, which is rare enough, but the heroine is an opera singer, of all things, and that really is different! The plot isn’t wildly original (house party… family tensions… snowed up…), but any author who has the chutzpah to wheel out the Archbishop of Canterbury, no less, to play a role in the book has my admiration.
This is the second book in the series, following after The Country Gentleman, and this is but a pale imitation of that one. It’s set in the same village, features several of the same characters and even the plot has many points of similarity, but it lacks the rural charm of the previous book, and the heroine is, frankly, irritatingly stupid. And despite all that, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I’ve enjoyed a number of Alice Chetwynd Ley’s other books, but this one just didn’t work for me. Too many concealed identities, too rushed a romance and a frankly unbelievable ending. Actually, the whole book is just one implausibility after another.
To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to make of this. On the one hand, Everett is one of those glorious authors who writes a completely different book every time — you just never know what’s going to turn up when you start reading. And the authenticity of the language she uses is twelve shades of awesome. On the other hand, some elements of this book left me underwhelmed, most specifically the heroine, and that’s a problem.
This was a wonderful old-school Regency, over thirty years old now, but still fresh, beautifully written and with a ton of that witty banter that some people regard as the epitome of a good Regency.
This was so much fun! Apart from the Bridgertonised casting, which was lovely, there’s nothing particularly to distinguish this from a thousand other lightweight Regency-style romantic comedies, and it’s absolutely not historically correct, but I enjoyed it and found it entertaining in a frothy kind of way.
This is such a beautifully written book that was completely wonderful for the first 75%, then became a little melodramatic, but in a good way, until the hero fell at the final hurdle. This is going to be spoilerish, so don’t read it if you don’t want to know.
This is the third book in a series dealing with the repercussions of a duel wherein the much disliked Duke of Cuttyngham meets an untimely demise. The first book focused on the other duellist, Major Giles Butler, and the widowed duchess. The second book dealt with the duke’s daughter, Lady Hera, and the attending doctor at the duel, Justin Rivers. This book is all about one of the seconds, the Earl of Frostbrook, and the former betrothed of Major Butler.