2023 historical fantasy-romance, third of its loose series. Tiffany
Worthington has one job: to marry well and get out of her brother's
household. This would be easier if paintings didn't come to life when
she looked at them; and indeed if she didn't yearn for something more,
while having no examples in her life of what that something more might
be.
Johnson continues her tour of romantic comedy flavours, now
looking at the Regency; and like several modern Regencies I've read,
it's actively feminist and intersectional. Not in an informed way of
course, since diegetically these concepts haven't been systematised
yet; but as with several other books I've read in the last year or so,
linked in the blog version of this post, there's definitely an attempt
to do something more than just rage formlessly and in isolation. One
finds oneself in a position in which other people depend on one for
their livelihood, with little restraint on how badly one treats them
and the risk of social damage if that treatment is any better than
what everyone else does; but as Heyer touched on all the way back in
Arabella, and all these books expand on in different ways, there is
still a right thing to do even if it's not possible to overturn the
system overnight, or even in one's own lifetime.
Which is, to be fair, what Johnson has also been doing in the brief
historical portions of her other (modern-set) books in this series.
(This doesn't rely on knowledge of any of the others; indeed, there's
only one character in common, and she's mostly in the background.) But
Tiffany gets the chance to break out into the witchy life right in the
middle of her expensive London Season; and it doesn't help that she's
falling for a piratical ne'er-do-well who turns out to be a Missing
Heir and the matrimonial catch of the year… But can she find a way
to combine marriage with a dedication fo magic? Or will the tentacular
water-creature that's been sinking ships round the world get them
first?
The Lost Duke turns out to share the spotlight, with his own problems
and desires; quite a few modern romances split narrative time between
the leads, but I particularly liked the way that Johnson manages to
make the book effectively about both of her protagonists separately
and evenly, rather than one constantly rescuing the other or one being
endlessly patient until the other realises it's the final chapter and
time to kiss.
It's refreshing to be reminded that I can still be grabbed by a book
and enjoy every moment of it. Yes, even with Tiffany grasping at ways
not to appreciate her happiness; I've come to trust Johnson to play
with ideas with which lesser authors would make a mess or drop into
cliché.