When I first picked up this book to read (and I do not recall where I got it; it might have been from a Friends of the Library book sale, it might have been one of the books my eldest left out in an open box on her back porch, it might have been from the swap bookcase at the VA Hospital … I just do not recall), the bright red cover suggested that it was one of those romance things I should not be reading, but there was no lurid picture, so I thought I would at least start it to see if it were worth reading. The list of other books on the flyleaf opposite the title page seemed to be typical of the neo-romantic nonsense my daughter seems to enjoy so much, and the name of “Amanda Scott” sounded familiar, but I just could not place it. Still, the book was in my hands, and I had some time for reading, so I started it … and I am delighted that I did, because I enjoyed it very much, is why I gave it four stars, which I do not do for much fiction. I probably should hold my praise until I read a few other books by Ms. Scott, but I am inclined on the basis of this first reading to say that she belongs in the same category as Georgette Heyer, which I mean to be high praise. The kind of overt sex I was afraid I would find behind that bright red cover did not appear until the epilogue, and even then it was cutely done. More to the point, the characters are interesting and say very amusing things; I had a lot of chuckles while reading this book, and I got so wrapped up in it that I stayed up much too late into the wee hours of the morning in order to finish it.
This is, in fact, a Victorian romance — one of those formula things that is a story of a young English woman of noble heritage looking (or not looking) for love amongst the same class gentleman of her age – which in this case essentially is the second year Queen Victoria’s reign, 1838 – 1839. The heroine of these books almost always has a lower-class dresser to provide support for her mistress’s more refined sensibilities; the hero almost always has a slightly less intelligent companion who acts as his stooge. (In this case, there are two — an equally ranked friend who really does not get fully developed, and a younger brother who at least gets started on to the right path by the end of the book.) In addition, there is always an amusing relative, usually an elderly woman who acts as a counterpoint to the heroine. Again, in this case, there are two, sweet elderly ladies who happened to be the great aunts of the hero and who also happen to be living in the London house that the heroine has just inherited — and who for the past 20 years have been operating that house as a place of convenience for couples of the ton who want a little privacy for their assignations. As is always the case, the heroine and the hero are instant enemies at the beginning of the story but gradually begin to find each other more appealing. There are lots of wrinkles in the plot, and it probably would help to do a little refresher research on the conflicts between the Whigs and the Tories before reading it.
Ms. Scott takes a few liberties with history, which I suppose would be very bothersome to puristic readers, but I found the tale sufficiently entertaining that I could forget all that.