This was always going to be the most fascinating book of the series. Wulfric, the Duke of Bewcastle, has been sketched in as a man without emotion, but we’ve seen in the last couple of books, first when his brother Alleyne was believed to be dead, and later when he is found again, that Wulfric isn’t really emotionless and cold at all. But he’s created such high walls around himself that it’s hard to see how any potential duchess can get past his defences.

Christine Derrick is not your typical potential duchess, however. She’s gauche and clumsy, constantly in some scrape or other, and she’s not the least bit cowed by the haughty, aristocratic duke. Far from dropping her eyes when he stares at her, she outstares him, and even as he deplores her lack of elegant manners, he’s drawn to her. She is the very opposite of him: where he is (seemingly) cold and devoid of humanity, she is fizzing with life, bringing light and joy to everyone. Even ice-cold dukes, apparently.

The challenge for an author with setting up a character as dramatic as Wulfric is to allow him to fall in love without losing the very essence of his character. It becomes necessary to show those walls coming down without somehow changing him. A man who has hidden his nature from the world for almost two decades is simply not going to melt into a puddle of emotional longing overnight. Balogh pulls this off superbly. She shows the reader both the reason for Wulfric’s protective shield and also how Christine works her way past his defences. Their moments of high drama are more about anger and violent quarrels than anything romantic. It makes for a powerful and compelling story.

This review must act as a summary of the whole series, too. I liked the varied characters, the six Bedwyns, very different from each other but united as a family. I liked the complicated backstories Balogh wove into the romances. I liked the settings, from Bath and London to the grand country houses. Balogh doesn’t spend too long on extraneous nothings like travelling; she gets straight to the next encounter between hero and heroine. I disliked the way all these heroines rushed into bed with the heroes, under the most improbable of circumstances. Sex was a huge deal for an upper-class Regency woman, and the lucky-I’m-not-pregnant casualness of it all grated on me. And naturally the virgins are all instantly orgasmic. {Rolls eyes}

But in the end, Mary Balogh gets me in the feels every time. Her women might be a little too modern and her Regency is slightly wonky to my eyes, but the writing is superb, and I tore through the entire series in double-quick time. This final book is the best of an excellent series. Five stars.

Another in the series that starts with a bang, with a dramatic midnight encounter at a roadside inn, and never lets up for a minute. But that’s entirely in keeping with the characters of our hero and heroine, the wild and independent Lady Freyja Bedwyn and reckless, rakish Joshua, Marquess of Hallmere.

Here’s the premise: Freyja, the elder of two sisters of the Duke of Bewcastle, has run away to Bath, boring as it is, to avoid the imminent confinement of the wife of the man she’d loved and hoped to marry. On the journey, her sleep is disturbed by a man entering her room to evade some pursuers. Even though he’s clearly a criminal of some kind, it amuses her to hide him. But in one of the coincidences that Balogh loves, there he is in Bath, and wouldn’t you just know it, he’s the Marquess of Hallmere. In no time flat, the two are causing all sorts of ructions in Bath’s sedate society, each intrigued by the other but equally determined never to admit to the least attraction. When Josh’s manipulative aunt appears with plans to marry him off to his cousin, he persuades Freyja into a fake betrothal to keep his aunt at bay.

I’ve never quite understood why any man would be troubled by this sort of scheming because men can’t be pressured into marriage in the way that women can be. So long as they’re alert to the possibility of compromising situations, they don’t have to do anything they don’t want to do. Still, it’s such a common trope in Regencies, and it makes for such a good story that I forgive it. Instantly there are all sorts of complications and the story notches up a gear.

I have to say, these two are among my favourite types of character. Freyja is the original wild child, up for any scheme that she thinks will amuse her, no matter how outrageous, and Josh is the consummate charming, roguish hero, a bit rakish but (as is usual) not nearly as bad as his reputation suggests.

As with all Baloghs, there some fairly graphic sex in there, but it fits with the nature of the two characters. There are some modern ideas as well, especially as relates to disabilities, and I wasn’t at all sure about the resolution for one character in particular, but it wasn’t a big deal.
Beautifully written, as always, with very few Americanisms apart from a few spelling differences. I enjoyed this one enough to rate it as five stars.

Book 2 of the Bedwyns series, and after the slow start to book 1, this one starts in spectacular fashion and never quite lets go. It’s a bit of a trope-fest, but very readable, for all that.

Here’s the premise: Judith Law is travelling on a dismal journey, leaving behind her family to become the poor relation after her charming but feckless brother brings debt on the household. A public stagecoach is a miserable affair for a gently brought up woman, and her daydreams of a handsome highwayman scooping her up and riding away with her are poor comfort. But when the coach overturns and a lone horseman offers to rescue her, the temptation is too great. And when her rescuer offers her a brief liaison while they are trapped at a provincial posting house, she seizes the opportunity. At least she will have a little happiness to look back on in her dreary future. And her two nights of passion are all she had hoped they would be.

Unfortunately for Judith, Lord Rannulf Bedwyn isn’t the ship that passes in the night. He’s staying at the neighbouring estate to her relations, and is the principal suitor for the hand of their daughter, Judith’s cousin. There’s no avoiding him, and although he now realises she isn’t the actress and courtesan he originally thought, and offers for her from guilt, she refuses and leaves him free to pursue her cousin.

I’ve said that the book is a positive trope-fest, and it’s absolutely true. Quite apart from the penniless poor relation trope, there’s the silly ingenue trope (we can blame Georgette Heyer for that one), the overbearing aunt who treats Judith as a servant, the lecherous bloke who tries to rape Judith, the compromise-the-hero-into-marrying plot device, the heroine who doesn’t realise how beautiful she is trope, the heroine who runs away constantly, and finally, the revenge plot (which I won’t spell out, to avoid spoiling the surprise, but none of it will surprise experienced readers of Regencies).

Nevertheless, Judith is a sympathetic heroine – I confess, I’m a sucker for the Cinderella-type story, where the heroine does eventually go to the ball. And Rannulf makes for a wonderful hero, even if it takes him far too long to realise that he wants to marry Judith and not the silly ingenue.

This being a Mary Balogh story, there is, naturally, a whole heap of sex of the relatively graphic variety, but since those two nights of passion are the whole foundation of the story, it’s hard to quibble about it. The other characters are relatively minor, or else unpleasant, so they don’t merit much discussion. I confess I got muddled sometimes by the two grandmothers, and wasn’t always sure which one was being talked of. Another compelling read, but the weight of familiar tropes keeps it to four stars.