This was an absolute riot. Not a perfect read, on account of a bunch of wildly anachronistic word choices, but the characters were hugely entertaining, the plot was delightfully wacky and the slow adjustment of ideas by the protagonists was well done.

Here’s the premise: Emma is just twenty-two, but having married at seventeen and being now widowed and emerging from mourning, she feels she’s not really of an age to be thoroughly independent. Her papa thinks so too, and is threatening to impose dragonish Aunt Hildegarde on her as a much stricter chaperon than laid-back, novel-reading Miss Foxworth. This is an emergency – what she needs, and at once, is another husband, or at least a quick betrothal to a compliant man, to deter the dreaded aunt. And who could be more perfect than her husband’s old friend and neighbour, Nick, Lord Hansard, who has always flirted with her and has been so attentive while she was in mourning? He’s perfectly biddable, so he can be brought up to scratch, can’t he? But when he doesn’t take the hint and propose, Emma rushes into a proposal herself, only to be shocked and mortified when he refuses her.

Nick is a kindly soul, however, and although he rather disapproves of Emma, thinking she’s far too flighty, he does agree with her that she needs a husband. Therefore he decides to help her on her way to a second marriage by introducing her to suitable gentlemen. Just how suitable (or otherwise!) they turn out to be forms the bulk of the plot, and all the while, Nick is gradually realising that Emma is not as air-headed as she appears, and Emma is realising that Nick is even more perfect for her than she’d thought.

This is one of those books where the romance builds gradually. There’s no great revelation, just two people growing increasingly convinced that the possible suitors aren’t suitable at all, when compared with the more obvious match right under their noses. Since we get the point of view of both Nick and Emma, we see in fascinating details how they each begin with a rather disparaging opinion of the other, and slowly come to appreciate each other. And all the while, the suitors are providing the comedy. Cousin James, in particular, is a hoot, swearing that he’ll be a reliable and faithful husband… but not quite yet, please.

The whole book is a delight, beautifully written and neither too implausible nor too silly (although it wouldn’t be so funny if it wasn’t a little bit silly). I loved every minute of it (yes, even the outrageously anachronistic words – sicced, anyone? In a Regency?). Five stars.

Well, this is a complete riot. It’s old-school, more of a Regency romp than a romance, although the romance side isn’t as neglected as it often is in books of this era (Georgette Heyer has a lot to answer for). This is light-hearted fun with a hero who’s sensible and only a teeny bit arrogant, and a heroine who seems demure and spiritless but absolutely isn’t, together with an array of charmingly wacky side characters.

Here’s the premise: Sophie Tewksbury is finally about to turn up her toes, and her relations gather at her deathbed to speculate about who will get the famous Beresford Diamonds and the rest of her fortune. But the will contains a surprise – the diamonds are to be buried with her, some lesser pieces are to be distributed, and the family are to gather again in a year’s time to hear the rest of her dispositions, which depend on what has happened in the interim. No one knows what that means, but in the meantime, the diamonds are buried in the graveyard, awaiting anyone brave enough to turn up with a spade and tools to break into the steel lining of the coffin.

Our heroine, Claudia, is a bit part player in this drama, for although she’s a niece of Sophie’s, she’s never met her and has no expectations. She’s surprised to inherit an emerald ring. Her cousin Luane, however, is miffed that she wasn’t given the diamond necklace, as she was promised, and determines to dig it up. She enlists Claudia to help her, and also a cousin, Gabriel, whom Luane hopes to marry one day. Another cousin, Jonathon, has inherited the ramshackle house but no money, so he’s also keen to find the diamonds. Claudia’s mother, Marcia, summons her beau, a former ironmonger, who she thinks will have the knowledge to break open the coffin. Ranged against these schemes is a more distant cousin, Sir Hillary Thoreau, a wealthy neighbour and nonesuch (a male incomparable), who watches over them all with amused detachment.

And so the stage is set for a great many graveside encounters at midnight, as one party or another tries to retrieve the diamonds, not to mention a certain amount of courting from the ever-optimistic Jonathon of either Luane or Claudia, as circumstances change. One or other of the cousins, he’s sure, will inherit the rest of the fortune, and he wants to be married to whoever it is, so he can afford to restore the house to its former glory. But it isn’t until the ironmonger beau turns up and looks set to marry Claudia’s mother that he settles on one of them. The ironmonger, now a moneylender, is fabulously rich and he’s bound to leave all that wealth to Claudia, isn’t he? There follows possibly the funniest proposal scene I’ve ever read. The book is worth the read for that alone.

Meanwhile, the urbane and unflappable Sir Hillary is also paying court to Claudia, and thank goodness for a hero who makes his intentions clear from the start, and doesn’t make an out-of-the-blue declaration in the final chapter. Claudia, of course, is oblivious to it all, and even when she does begin to have an inkling, she daren’t allow herself to believe it. She’s lived her whole life in the sort of dull situation where nothing really good ever happens to her, and here’s this dashing, rich, charming and worldly man with his wonderful houses and luxurious life – he can’t really want her, can he? And so there are some minor misunderstandings, but not such as to cause any real difficulties, and the romance ends in fine style.

There are some historical wobbles – my eyebrows rose at the mention of a welding torch (an expression not used before about 1900), but the book dates from the pre-internet era when research involved a trudge to the library, so it’s forgivable. The author seems to be entertainingly unfamiliar with chess. No, each player does not have some white pieces and some black, and I was entirely unconvinced that Claudia would be able to play such an intellectual game without paying much attention to it. You might play backgammon that way, perhaps, but chess involves a lot of deep thought from both players. On the other hand, hurrah for unmarried characters who find themselves potentially having to overnight at an inn, who sensibly ask at the parsonage for beds for the night (I wish more stranded Regency characters would do that instead of being caught out and having to marry in haste). My grumbles are very minor issues, and overall this is a fine read, well-written and with characters who are both charmingly eccentric and perfectly believable. I enjoyed every minute of it. Five stars.

This is a whole heap of fun, with a mystery that kept me engrossed. It’s an old-fashioned Regency, which means the romance is rather perfunctory with the mystery taking centre stage, but it works pretty well. It helps that the hero is an absolute charmer.

Here’s the premise: the baron, Lord Raiker, has died, leaving his eldest son to inherit. Now he too has died without an heir, leaving two brothers to inherit. But Kenelm, the elder, vanished years ago, and the old baron’s young second wife sets about having her son Charles declared the new baron. But then a man appears claiming to be Kenelm. The race is on to prove or disprove his claim. Aurora, the unmarried sister of the widow of the eldest son, would very much like him to be Kenelm, because if he is an imposter, he might very well be a murderer, too. And it would never do to fall in love with such a man. But he is so very charming…

Now, it has to be said that the answer to the is-he-or-isn’t-he question is obvious almost from the start, but the twists and turns of the plot are very twisty and turny indeed, so there is constantly doubt being thrown up, not to mention a body exhumed and all sorts of plausible obstacles arising. Even though I was almost certain how it would go, there was always a little niggle of doubt in there. Meanwhile, the man claiming to be Kenelm appears to be enjoying himself hugely, as he gradually draws strait-laced Aurora into his schemes. And did I mention how charming he is? When he persuades her to creep around the manor house attics in the middle of the night, it’s not at all clear whether he really cares about finding whatever piece of evidence is the excuse, or whether he just wants the fun of it. It’s no wonder she falls hard for him.

What did puzzle me somewhat is what he saw in her. He makes his interest obvious almost from the start, but he is also flirting with pretty much anything in a skirt, so she’s not at all sure whether he really likes her, or is just reflexively flirting with her, or whether he’s just using her to help him gain the barony. Aurora never really shows much personality, so what was the great attraction? That was more of a mystery to me than whether the hero was really Lord Raiker or not.

Nevertheless, this is a light-hearted read, very entertaining if you’re not looking for a passionate romance. The flamboyant and rakish hero (did I mention how charming he is? I may have mentioned it once or twice) and his swashbuckling style more than compensate for the rather colourless heroine. Four stars.

This book infuriated me. I think it was meant to be whimsical and amusing, but I just found it weird. I slogged through the first half purely to see how on earth the author was going to bring about a romantic ending for two characters who rarely met and seemed to hate each other with a passion. Somewhere around the midpoint it livened up a bit and became genuinely funny, only to fall flat again at the end. It managed three stars only because I laughed so much at the roof incident. There were few other redeeming features.

Here’s the premise: Wendy Harris… no, let’s pause there, because I hate this name so much. I suppose the author gets away with it since it’s short for Gwendolyn, but the name Wendy was officially invented in 1904 for Peter Pan. Ugh. Anyway, Wendy Harris lives in genteel poverty with her widowed mother in a grace and favour cottage owned by Wendy’s brother-in-law, Lord Menrod (another horrible name; I actually wondered whether the author had originally given him a sensible name, then found out at the last minute there was a real lord by that name and had to change it. But I digress). His lordship insists on them keeping everything in their cottage exactly as it is, with no changes, no matter how inconvenient, since it’s historical. They are all awaiting the arrival from India of Wendy’s orphaned niece and nephew, whom she hopes to raise herself, but Lord Menrod decides he’s going to raise them. Wendy thinks he’s unfit, on account of the string of mistresses, the constant travelling around and the fact that he’s arrogant and tyrannical. Lord Menrod gets interim custody, so Wendy engages an attorney to fight the case.

Now, written out like this, you’d imagine that Wendy… no, I can’t keep writing that. Let’s call her Miss Harris. Anyway, you’d imagine that Miss Harris would be a sympathetic character, a put-upon spinster only wanting the best for her nephew and niece. But no, she’s a pretty horrible person, actually, who’s determined not to give Lord Menrod any credit for proper feeling, or admit that actually the children will be better off with him, on account of the whole rich lord thing. She’s also incredibly rude about Mr Everett, a rich lumber merchant with a vast mansion stuffed with expensive but tasteless Stuff, who is simply an easy-going guy who wants to marry her.

Lord Menrod is also a pretty unpleasant character in the early part of the book, being just as tyrannical as described. It’s only when the children arrive and he is forced to spend more time at the Harris’s cottage that he begins to mellow a bit. In fact, he becomes the most sensible character in the book, still determined to have the children, but prepared to adjust his lifestyle accordingly. And he never tries to cut the Harris ladies out of their lives. In fact, he is all sweet reason, if a little grumpy when Miss Harris continues to be obnoxious.

He also discovers for himself all the deficiencies of the Cottage That Must Not Be Changed, with unusable fire irons, a dangerously dark stair, a smoking chimney and a decaying thatch roof. By the time he’s burned himself, been smoked out of the house and fallen through the roof (a glorious scene!), he’s become rather a fun character, especially when he lounges around the cottage all day to avoid a persistent lady admirer.

The ending is sadly typical of this era, that is, there are one or two oblique hints of a change of heart on his part, a reference to hate and love being two sides to the same coin, after which he sweeps her into his manly arms and kisses her, whereupon she says: oh, all right then. The end. Very, very annoying. I confess, though, that the biggest problem I had throughout the book (apart from obnoxious Miss Harris, who never does redeem herself – run away, Lord M!) is that I never worked out Lord M’s age. He’s described in such terms early on that I imagined he must be an elderly man, or at least middle aged, but it only gradually dawned on me that he’s possibly only meant to be thirty-something. It’s quite an adjustment to make.

So this really didn’t work at all for me. Nevertheless, if you don’t mind the old-fashioned and rather dry approach to romance that was standard at the time, and are brighter than I was in working out Lord M’s age, it’s a well-written tale with some fun characters (I particularly liked Mr Everett and the mother, and the children were amusing too; oh, and Lady Whotsit who was pursuing Lord M; and the attorney was funny; in fact, in retrospect it seems far more fun than it was when I was reading it). But for me it’s only three stars.

This was lovely. Having just struggled, with steam coming out of my ears, through a more difficult book, this one slipped down as easily as ice cream. Strawberry, maybe… or salted caramel… Sorry, got distracted there for a moment. There’s not a lot of drama here, so anyone looking for adventure or angst or passion might find it a tad tame, but for me it was a simple story, well-told, and just what I needed.

Here’s the premise: Alex, the Earl of Penholme, returns from the Peninsular war to take up his inheritance after his older brother Charles fell off his horse and broke his neck. Interestedly awaiting him is neighbour and friend Anne Wickfield, living in reduced circumstances with her widowed mother. She has no very fond memories of Alex, the least friendly of the family, and a poor contrast with dashing, handsome, charming Charles, who had long since won Anne’s heart. She’s surprised, therefore, when Alex is unusually attentive to his old friends, and to Anne in particular.

The hero and heroine here are my favourite kinds – not melodramatic, not high-flown society types, not over the top, just nice, normal people, the sort you might meet every day. They’re both just practical, get-on-with-it types. At first, Anne can’t make Alex out at all – why is he paying her so much attention? What does it mean that he’s brought a ring back from Spain for her? She decides it’s arrogance. Now that he’s come into a fine inheritance and is something of a catch, he’s showing off a bit. It takes her a while to come round to the idea that, actually, he wants to marry her.

And this makes Alex one of the best types of hero – the one who fell in love with the heroine years ago, remained agonised but silent watching her fall in love with his older brother, dreamt of her during his soldiering and when his brother died, came home with a glad heart to finally claim his bride. I love me a faithful man, who stays true to his lady through thick and thin. But his faithfulness is put to the test when he discovers, piece by horrifying piece, the true extent of the debts his brother has left him, and realises that he can’t possibly dig himself out of the hole. Or marry impoverished Anne, either. But there is a possibility of salvation if he marries one of the neighbouring daughters of a cit worth a million pounds. Fortunately, this is no Civil Contract, Heyer’s wonderful marriage of convenience tale, but the way the conundrum is resolved forms the latter part of the book, and very satisfying and logical it is too.

A couple of quibbles. One is a title error – the younger sons of an earl are not Lord anything, they’re Honourables. The heir has a courtesy title, but nothing for the other sons. The other is the names of the younger Penholme children. The eldest four are Charles, Alex, Rosalie and Robin – perfectly unexceptionable. The younger four are Willie, Bung, Loo and Babe. Whatever was the author thinking? I suppose it may be intended to show the closeness of the family by giving them pet names, but it just made me shudder.

But otherwise, the story is near perfect. The development of the romance and in particular Anne’s slowly growing realisation that she fell in love with a spectacularly selfish man, and his brother is worth ten of him, is lovely. The side characters are delightful, too, with a special mention for Mr Anglin, the cit, who has echoes of Jonathan Chawley from Heyer’s Civil Contract, but is also unequivocally himself. I also liked the very tiny vignette of his wife at the end, where we see the terror of a middle-class woman being pushed, against her will, into a much higher level of society. She has neither the self-confidence of her husband nor the education of her daughters, and hates it all, but of course is powerless to do anything about it. I’d like to have seen more of her.
A wonderful story, beautifully written. Highly recommended. Five stars.

After a couple of reads that just didn’t do it for me, I was relieved to come back to Joan Smith for this delightfully frothy traditional Regency. It’s very old school, of course, being over 40 years old now, but that just emphasises how far tastes have shifted. There’s no existential angst or any of those new-fangled feminist opinions that modern heroines are so fond of. No, this is all about the season and Almack’s and the proper pursuit of every respectable young lady, which is Finding Oneself A Suitable Husband.
Here’s the premise: Ella Fairmont is no longer a debutante, but her aunt hasn’t given up hope, so here she is indulging in another round of London’s Marriage Mart. To make the exercise more palatable, Ella amuses herself by retailing all the society gossip in a snippy little newspaper column, where she poses as ‘Miss Prattle’. The principal object of her vitriolic pen is Patrick, Duke of Clare (although we’re never given a reason why she dislikes him so much). But then the Duke invites Ella and her Aunt Sara to a house party at his country residence in Dorset…

I’ve read a similar tale more than once before, but even if I hadn’t, it would be easy enough to see how things are going to go, and it’s true that there are few surprises. But that’s not what a book like this is all about. If you want shocking twists, go and read a thriller. With a Regency, it’s all about the journey, not the destination, and the journey here is delightful.

First of all, there are a whole array of very silly side characters. The Duke, foolish man, has invited along three of the leading contenders for his hand, for he happens to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the kingdom. Lady Honor is the high-ranking one, without a word to say for herself, utterly confident that the duke is hers by right. Miss Sheridan is the beautiful one, who can think of nothing but her appearance. And Miss Prentiss is the one with a multitude of accomplishments, none of which she has much aptitude for. There are three male friends, too, to make up the numbers and squabble gently over the ladies’ hands, but they blurred together in my mind and I can’t even remember their names.

An honourable mention must go to the duke’s mother, a lovely, sensible lady who’s entirely supportive of her son, and completely different from the usual trope of the harridan dowager duchess. Then there’s Aunt Sara, who’s a bit of a live wire and has some of the best lines in the book.

But the starring roles go to Ella and Patrick, who start off deep in indifference, start to discover that the other is actually more interesting that they’d suspected and needless to say, end up very much in love. Given the date of the book, this is a fairly restrained affair, devoid of real passion, and mostly their growing interest manifests itself in the rising level of banter between them. They are soon on first-name terms, and arousing a certain amount of jealousy in the others.

The duke’s journey to love is steady and rather touching. Once his interest is piqued, he turns his attention on Ella and singles her out very conspicuously. For some reason, never properly explained, everyone assumes he’s just stringing her along, or flirting, or otherwise just amusing himself, but since he doesn’t have a reputation as a rake, it’s hard to see why they would think that. And towards the end, when she seems to blow hot and cold, he pursues her quite determinedly and charmingly.

Ella, however, is harder to fathom. Why did she dislike him so determinedly at first, enough to make him the principal recipient of all her most acid comments in the gossip column? Why, when she starts to realise that he’s actually not as bad as she’d thought, does she not ease off a bit? And why, why why, when she’s written something completely wrong and malicious about him, doesn’t she do the sensible thing and confess? I do get a bit cross with heroines (and heroes) who just refuse to talk things through. And another why – why, for the love of mike, when he proposes to her, albeit in a completely wacky way, doesn’t she at least wonder if he might be serious? And again, talk to the poor man. Give him a chance to explain himself. But I suppose if all heroes and heroines were sensible, rational beings, their stories would be about 20 pages long.

Now if this was all, this would be just another light-hearted Regency romance, nothing special. Fortunately, after a slightly sluggish start, it kicks into a glorious high gear of comedy. The banter between Patrick and Ella is sparkling, with just an edge of hostility, but there’s also a lot of fun in the house party itself, when Ella comes up with some outrageous schemes for the guests to entertain themselves, although I won’t spoil the surprise by telling you what they are.

Needless to say, there are some hiccups on the road to true love, resolved in the last few pages by the hero sweeping the heroine into his manly arms for a thorough kissing. I strongly disapproved of his arrogance (he never for one moment doubts that she’ll marry him) and I wanted him to grovel just a little bit to win her over, but that was very much the norm for that era.

A beautifully written book, with a few very minor historical errors that only extreme pedants like me would even notice, with a charming hero, a spirited and intelligent heroine and a shed-load of laugh-out-loud humour. I loved it. Five stars.