Well. I’ve enjoyed some of Jennie Goutet’s previous works, but this one I found really lax in a number of ways. The idea was good, but the execution felt lazy, as if she hadn’t really thought too deeply about it, and was just pushing the plot along.

Here’s the premise: Lady Eugenia (Geny) Stanich is the daughter of the Earl of Goodwin. It’s a lonely life, for her mother is dead, her father is a distant figure and her young brother is away at school much of the time. She doesn’t much enjoy society life and has few friends among the ton. Her closest friend is a wealthy merchant’s daughter. Her great love is the orphanage her mother started, where she spends a great deal of her time.

John Aubyn is a bit of a rake and a ne’er-do-well, living a dissolute life until he overhears the Earl of Goodwin (Geny’s father, remember) admitting to wanting to dump some investments because he has insider knowledge that things are going pear-shaped. John feels obliged to relay this information to one of the other investors but is disbelieved and blackballed (thrown out) of the clubs and good society. He sets out to get his revenge by proving that the earl is misusing the funds of the orphanage, and gets himself employed as steward there, under an assumed name.

Now, this is a great setup. He’s masquerading as something he’s not and when he’s unmasked, as inevitably he will be, she will see him as a person unworthy of trust. And by that time, they will be well on the way to being in love. Of course they will. So the early part of the book is them developing ‘feelings’ for each other.

I have to be honest, and confess that this part rang false with me. Geny, after all, is an earl’s daughter, and John, for all his gentlemanlike appearance and manners (and I assume an educated accent, although that’s never mentioned), is a lowly employee, and one below the rank of presumed gentleman. It’s hard to believe that she would ever entertain the possibility of a match between them, even for five minutes. But not only does she do so, she encourages him at every opportunity, seeks out his company and even has no hesitation getting into a closed carriage with him without a chaperon, something that would destroy her reputation at a stroke if it became known (and no, him not being technically a ‘gentleman’ wouldn’t save her, it makes it worse, if anything).

The biggest problem with all of this is the practical one – money. How on earth does she imagine they would survive if she married him? She makes a big deal about the fact that she doesn’t need her father’s permission since she’s of age, but she knows perfectly well that he wouldn’t approve and therefore there would be no dowry forthcoming. What’s the salary for a steward at an orphanage? A hundred a year, maybe, if we’re being generous. That wouldn’t even cover the cost of her stockings and gloves. It’s madness. Yet on she goes, allowing herself to be drawn in because she can’t help herself, apparently, and nor can he. Regency restraint? Forget about it.

Of course, there’s a big explosion when everything comes out into the open, and this part of the book and the wrap-up of the romance is nicely done, and if you like sickly-sweet epilogues, you’ll be very happy.

There are some errors and oddities that tripped me up. Geny’s brother, the heir to the earldom, is given the courtesy title of Viscount Fernsby, but is inexplicably addressed throughout as Lord Caldwell. He also seems to think he’s a peer of the realm, which he won’t be until he inherits the earldom. Geny’s orphanage is also called an asylum, more usually a place for those considered to be insane. [UPDATE: in the Regency, asylum hadn’t yet acquired its later meaning as a place for the insane, and meant any kind of refuge/hospital/place for the outcasts of society.]  There are a few grammatical errors, too.

Fans of Jennie will certainly enjoy this book. I did too, up to a point, but the hero and heroine were a little bit too goody-two-shoes for my taste, and John is the typical Regency rake whose dissolute ways are only briefly seen, after which he is a perfect model of rectitude. My biggest problem is the way Geny fell (quite improbably, in my view) for the hired help, without giving a moment’s thought to the practicalities of marrying a man with a negligible income. This should have been a major hurdle, which he could have overcome at the proposal stage by revealing the estate he owns, but it seems the author never even considered this point. Disappointing. So only three stars from me.

This is one of those books where it would be very easy to dislike either the hero or the heroine – or both! The hero is a bit of a goody two-shoes, a pious clergyman with egalitarian ideals and a burning desire to improve the lot of his parishioners, who hates the frivolity of the beau monde. The heroine is a society butterfly, only happy in the swirl of entertainments and gossipy chatter that is London, and very disparaging of country life (and country parsons). But fortunately, the parson has an Achilles heel in the shape of his meddlesome brother, and the socialite is discovered to have a more compassionate side. They are both more human and more redeemable than they appear at first.

Here’s the premise: Anna Tunstall is to join her friend, Emily Leatham, at the village of Avebury, in Wiltshire. On the way, she is attacked by highwaymen and knocked out. Harry Aston, the pious clergyman, happens upon her prostrate form and naturally sets out to rescue her. And when her eyes flutter open, he’s smitten (with this lovely line): ‘When she raised her clear eyes to his and he saw the answering gleam of fun, Harry knew the end to his bachelor days had come. He was done for.’ But of course she’s an earl’s sister and destined, she’s sure, for a life as a political wife, and he’s a lowly rector of a country parish. Or is he?

At first, things chug along rather nicely, with Harry pursuing his suit steadily, and Anna succumbing to his charm and finding out that he’s not as bad as she’s thought, for a parson. There’s still a huge difference in personalities, she wavers back and forth and they seem to be drawn to each other by physical attraction more than anything else, but it seems to be working out. And then comes the huge spanner in the works – Harry’s big brother arrives, complete with fancy title, and the secret of Harry’s identity is out (this is not a spoiler; his family is mentioned in the blurb). And naturally Anna’s far from pleased that he didn’t tell her.

The rest of the book is a succession of misunderstandings, more wavering from Anna and mischief-making from big brother, together with a number of dramatic upheavals to do with friend Emily and Harry’s cook, with everything resolved in an improbable sequence at the end, including the highwaymen. I feel there was rather too much drama thrown in, but never mind.

I was a bit surprised by the church scene, where the parishioners were locked out of the church, there appeared to be stables for the gentry’s carriages, and the rector arrives by curricle. Even when I was a child, church doors were never, ever locked, and the rectory would normally have been right next door to the church, a very short walk away. I’ve never heard of a church with its own stables. There were a few other oddities like this that had me puzzled, but nothing that spoiled the story for me.

It was a little disappointing that, after choosing such an unusual setting for this book, so little was made of it. Avebury is a unique place, sitting pretty much in the middle of a huge and spectacular stone circle, but the stones were barely mentioned and Avebury felt like just another generic English village. At least the author resisted the temptation to have the main characters go haring off to London for part of the time, which I half expected as a way of pointing up the different natures of hero and heroine. It would have been interesting to see Anna back in her more usual environment, and see her growing disenchantment with the shallowness of society life.

The romance ends in fine style, although I confess I’m not too sure that this is a match made in heaven. How will Anna cope as a country parson’s wife? I don’t really see it, somehow, and she’s sharp-tongued enough to make his life miserable if she’s discontented with her lot. But I’m an optimist, so let’s go with the happy ever after.

There’s nothing terribly unexpected here, but it’s very readable, and kept me turning the pages voraciously. Both hero and heroine grew on me over the course of the book, despite their flaws, and I enjoyed the unusual setting, a parson hero who’s genuinely devout, and a heroine who was forced to face up to her true nature. Four stars.