2018 American Regency-ish romance, part of a loosely linked series.
Cassandra has been married for two years, and has only met her husband
once; it was arranged by her father and neither partner wanted
anything more than the legalities. But now she has her sisters to
launch into society, and she'll have to use his London house to do it…
So, well, this is a romance, so you know the outline of what the
ending will be. And since romance audiences tend to be conventional,
chances are it'll be "she forms a loving relationship with her
husband" rather than "she ditto with someone more interesting".
But there's a lot of baggage to be got through first: he expected to
be the heir but was revealed as a bastard (father's previous wife was
still alive after all), was abandoned, and worked his way up from the
factory to become a rich industrialist, he's lost a wife and a son and
feels he has no time for anything but his work, and he's being accused
of adultery by a foolish investor; meanwhile she has an uncontrollable
sister and another who hates her (and another who's married but for
some reason isn't involved in the story at all), and a mother who's a
laudanum addict, and the chap who jilted her, and a dead brother, and
the secret about her father's death…
"Did you come here to philosophize at me? If I wanted philosophy, I
would consult the works of someone more…" He sought the right word.
"Dead."
Yeah. Lots of baggage. But mostly they're at it like rabbits and
gradually falling in love while each of them is thinking the other is
only doing their duty and won't want to hang around later.
It's the banter that has left most impression, and that I enjoyed
most; there's good verbal fencing here, of a style I don't often see.
On the other hand the book would be a whole lot shorter if they'd just
talk to each other about their feelings, even a little bit. And he
makes a lot more compromises than her to leave them in the same place
as each other; it works, just about, but it doesn't feel solid.
In the end I like the people and the wit. The story is, well, quite a
standard form, and it's executed with some distinct imperfections; I'd
certainly call this fluff, but it's enjoyable fluff.
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