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JOINT REVIEW:  A Christmas Bride by Mary Balogh

JOINT REVIEW: A Christmas Bride by Mary Balogh

Janine: We’ve all read Christmas stories which feature cynics whose hardened hearts soften during the holiday season. From Ebenezer Scrooge in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol to the Grinch in Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas, such figures are not uncommon in holiday stories in or out of the romance genre. But they are almost always male. What makes Balogh’s 1997 traditional regency A Christmas Bride (now reissued in a 2-in-1 edition with Christmas Beau) unusual is that its Scrooge/Grinch is Helena, its (anti-)heroine.
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Sunita: I have reread this book more than once, and not just at Christmastime. But it is definitely a Christmas fairytale, or at least a fable. What I like about it is that while the heroine is the Scrooge figure, the hero is not the innocent or beta hero that shows her the way to happiness through his virtue. Edgar is prickly and stubborn and more than a match for Helena.

Janine: Good point. A Christmas Bride opens with the line “Mr. Edgar Downes had decided to take a bride.” Edgar Downes, readers of The Famous Heroine may remember, is brother to Cora, the titular heroine of that book. In A Christmas Bride we discover that Edgar’s father, though hale and hearty at age sixty, has, like many a parent in one of Balogh’s traditional regencies, extracted a promise from Edgar to choose a bride (in this case by Christmastime). And not just any bride, but a woman of the nobility.

Edgar, like his father before him, is a successful and prosperous Bristol businessman and merchant. Nonetheless, Edgar has a chance to associate with and even marry into the ton because his sister Cora married into high society.

Although fewer aristocrats are in town in the autumn, Cora and her husband Francis help Edgar gain entry to some of London’s excusive parties. There Edgar meets some eligible if down on their luck young women. It is also where he meets Helena.

Unlike the ladies Edgar courts, Helena is neither young nor impoverished. At thirty-six, she is the same age as Edgar, and her previous marriage to a much older man has left her quite well off. Since her late husband’s passing, Helena has spent much of the time traveling abroad, coming to England only occasionally. There is a painful event in her past which she has been running away from.

Edgar’s first sight of Helena is described this way (ellipses mine):

And then he glanced across the doorway, where another new arrival stood. A woman alone, dressed fashionably and elegantly in a high-waisted, low bosomed dress of pure scarlet silk. A woman whose magnificent bosom more than did justice to the gown. […] She looked about her with bold eyes in a handsome face, a half smile on her lips, which might denote confidence or contempt or mere mocking irony. It was difficult to tell which.

Before Edgar could realize he was staring and proving himself to be indeed less than a gentleman[…]the woman’s eyes alit on him for a moment, and then moved deliberately down his body and back up again. She lifted one mocking eyebrow as her eyes met his once more[….]

If he had not been standing in the Earl of Greenwald’s drawing room, he would have been convinced that he was surely in the presence of one of London’s most experienced and celebrated courtesans.

In another book written in this same time frame (1990s), Helena might have been the villainess. Indeed, she was something of an offstage villainess in an earlier Balogh novel. My very favorite thing about A Christmas Bride might be this—that Helena comes across as the kind of woman who could eat a lot of men for breakfast.

Sunita: I definitely saw her as the villainess in A Precious Jewel. But even there, Balogh didn’t make her a monster. I appreciate that rather than redeeming her by rewriting the backstory here, Balogh has Helena take responsibility for what she did and very effectively conveys her anguish.

Janine: Yes, her remorse for those actions is is palpable and her path to redemption painful.

Helena ends up taking Edgar home the very night they meet and although she only thinks to offer him a drink, she finds herself taking him upstairs, to her bedroom. The sex they have is a struggle for mastery, and while Edgar gives Helena pleasure, she loses the upper hand in the process and ends up feeling violated as a result.

But Edgar feels just as violated. He does not understand his actions or Helena’s, and the next day, he calls on her to apologize. Helena rejects his apology but makes him an offer of platonic friendship. During this conversation, Helena reveals to Edgar that Miss Grainger, the woman he was most interested in courting, is in love with another man, one too poor to be acceptable to her parents as a marriage prospect.

Because he plans to court and marry a younger woman with many childbearing years ahead of her and fears he might end up in Helena’s bed once more, Edgar rebuffs Helena’s suggestion that they could be friends. A wounded Helena responds with scorn, telling Edgar that his friendship would have been less satisfying than his lovemaking, and pretending to have habit of using men sexually and then discarding them. Edgar swallows her lie and leaves feeling deeply ambivalent about her.

Sunita: I loved this part of the book. Helena and Edgar are physically so drawn to each other, and even as they each fight for mastery, that attraction never wanes.

Janine: I loved that both of them still wished they could have that friendship even after they each concluded they didn’t like the other. Talk about conflicted feelings!

For a while it seems like this is the end of Edgar and Helena’s relationship. But this being a romance, circumstances force them back together. By this time, Edgar has gotten tangled up in a commitment to the aforementioned Miss Grainger, so he wants to help that young lady find a way to be reunited with her beau. He invites Miss Grainger and her parents, as well as her young man, to the Christmas party he and Helena, Helena’s aunt, Cora, Francis, and several of their friends will be attending at his father’s home.

Christmas miracles only happen to other people, Helena believes. She does not think the heartache in her past can be outdistanced, and the more Edgar, who is falling for her, tries to convince her that happiness is possible for them, the more she resists the Christmas spirit. Her refusal to allow herself happiness leads Edgar to begin digging in her past.

Will Edgar discover the root causes of Helena’s cynicism? Will he reunite Miss Fanny Grainger and her suitor, Mr. Jack Sperling? Will he present his father with a Christmas Bride? Will Edgar’s father find happiness? And what about Helena? Will she allow a holiday miracle to take place in her life?

There’s a lot to like in A Christmas Bride. I’ve quoted from Helena’s introduction and I can’t resist quoting some of her “Bah, humbug!” moments as well. Here are her thoughts about the Christmas house party:

There was such an air of eager anticipation in the house and of domestic contentment. One would have thought that in such a sizable house party there would be some quarreling and bickering, some jealousies or simple dislikes. There were virtually none, apart from a few minor squabbles among the children.

It was just too good to be true. It was cloying

And here is Helena talking about the nativity story:

The stable at Bethlehem must have been drafty and uncomfortable and smelly and downright humiliating. How dare we make beatific images of it. It was nasty. That was the whole point of it.

This portrayal works because beneath her wonderful grouchiness and verbal ripostes are underlying loneliness and melancholy. I also got the feeling that when George Carlin said “Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist,” he was talking about Helena. With her character, Balogh gets across the toll that being isolated from the rest of humanity takes.

Sunita: Yes, I agree. It’s clear that Helena is a very unhappy woman, even though she has managed to create a stable, even pleasant everyday life. She presents a strong, assured façade to the world, but through her internal monologues and especially through her interactions with Edgar we see what is behind that façade.

Janine: The one criticism I have with Helena’s character has to do with the painful events in her past. These were weighty, and I therefore wanted to have a better understanding of her state of mind at the time these events took place. My reading experience could have benefited from a better grasp of the younger Helena’s motives.

Then there’s Edgar. He’s not as unusual a character as Helena, but he’s a good match for her — just strong enough that she can’t easily walk all over him, but tender and caring once he gets to know her.

Sunita: I thought Edgar was a terrific match for her. He’s an unusual Balogh hero (has she had any other rich merchant heroes?). He’s not gentry or nobility, but he’s very comfortable in his own skin and he is self-confident to the point of arrogance.

Janine: True, and that’s a good thing here because he needs every bit of that self-confidence as he comes up against Helena’s belief that there is no getting over her past.

Sunita: He’s also sensitive enough to think about who Helena is as a person and take seriously her desires and fears.

Janine: I loved that about him.

The class difference between Edgar and Helena doesn’t come to play as strongly in this novel as in some other Balogh novels like A Christmas Promise or The Famous Heroine. It’s not a true conflict here, but it lends a nice shading to Edgar’s character in giving him additional dimension.

I found the struggle for supremacy in the bedroom between Edgar and Helena interesting, and I really liked the way it was resolved.

However, I have to add that there was a sex negative vibe in some places which took away some of my enjoyment. This centered around Helena’s lie to Edgar that she had used a lot of men for sex and never slept with the same guy more than once. I would have loved for this lie to be true, and for Edgar to not care, but while he loved Helena anyway, her made-up sexual experience did bother him a bit.

I expect that from 1990s books, and his reaction was human enough that I could go with it, but what I didn’t like was that his rationale that Helena’s “promiscuity” was a sign of self-loathing. I’ll grant he had reasons to think that, but the implication that the same qualities that are good for the goose are a form of self-flagellation in his female counterpart didn’t work so for me.

Sunita: I see your points, but his attitude seems pretty understandable for the period, especially for someone raised in the middle class. There’s a spectrum between demanding a virgin wife (even when you’re not going to be a virgin husband) and unproblematically accepting your future wife’s active sexual past, and I thought Edgar fell within that spectrum. And given Helena’s actual sexual history, the self-loathing explanation is pretty compelling to me.

Janine: Yes, I agree he fell within the spectrum. My issue here wasn’t so much with Edgar, but more with the author. I felt there was an implication that a double standard should apply.

A much bigger problem for me, though, was that Balogh had to jump through some high-hanging hoops to pull off the happy endings for her couples, and these resolutions landed on the page with bobbles.

Let’s start with Fanny Grainger and Jack Sperling. Edgar and his father make a business decision in order to bring this couple together. The problem I had there was that this decision seemed like a big risk to take with their business. It was not set up well enough to convince me that it would pay off financially and thus did not fit with the idea that Edgar and his father were astute businessmen.

Then there’s what happens when Edgar goes digging for a solution to Helena’s cynicism. This requires Edgar to visit someone from Helena’s past, and while he is there, a married couple has a very private conversation in his presence. I could not believe they would hold that discussion in front of Edgar, a stranger whom they had just met. It felt like a contrivance to allow readers to know what was said.

The people Edgar visits then make a decision that I didn’t find fully believable either – another step toward resolution that was not set up well. And then some issues of class, reputation and social mores are conveniently shoved under the carpet by a number of secondary characters in order to allow for Helena to make peace with her past.

Sunita: I agree that these aspects were not very convincing, but I swallowed them as part of the Christmas-fable aspect of the story. The counter-intuitive treatment of the people from Helena’s past was the most unbelievable, and I can see why readers have trouble with that one.

Janine: Are you referring to the way they treated Helena, or the way they were treated by others?

Sunita: The way they were treated by others. Balogh had thoroughly convinced me that they could expect to be socially ostracized by the time A Precious Jewel ended, so to see them unhesitatingly accepted by people who didn’t know them stretched my suspension of disbelief too far, even for a Christmas story.

Janine: Agreed. For me their decision to face potential ostracism in the first place was almost as difficult to credit, especially given what had gone down in Helena’s past.

None of these problems directly impact on Edgar and Helena’s romantic relationship. That remains lovely throughout. I loved seeing Edgar warm to Helena and begin to help her thaw the heart she’d thought was permanently frozen.

But the cumulative effect of all these unlikely holiday wonders is to take a plot that beings grounded in Helena’s cynicism and lift it off that ground in what feels like a fragile soap bubble that could—or should—easily burst. We begin with some realism and end with a flight of fantasy, and unfortunately, the two don’t mesh that well.

Sunita: I don’t disagree, but I enjoyed Edgar and Helena’s relationship so much, as well as their individual characterizations, that I forgave that. I also really liked Edgar’s relationships with his sister and father; they were warm and believable.

Janine: I liked Edgar’s relationships with his father and sister too, but I did feel in places that his sister Cora was portrayed as more of an airhead than she’d been in The Famous Heroine. I was a little regretful of that since I concluded she was one of my favorite Balogh heroines when I read that book.

Sunita: I also think that given Helena’s backstory and the setup of Edgar’s search for an appropriate wife, these threads had to be resolved, and perhaps the Christmas setting led to it being more sugary than it had to be. As you said at the beginning, this is a Christmas story that draws on Scrooge, and that ends on a note of fairy-tale optimism as well.

Janine: Yes, given Helena’s backstory the conflict in her past had to be put to rest. That was the only path to a happy ending for her. I think Balogh undertook a Herculean task here, though. There really wasn’t a way to make that resolution fully believable, but I agree with you that Edgar and Helena’s relationships and individual characterizations were wonderful enough to make me willing to overlook that at least in part.

I find I often feel that way about Balogh’s trads. Even when she doesn’t pull the story off, the characters and their dynamics feel so fresh and interesting. My grade for A Christmas Bride is a C+.

Sunita: My grade for A Christmas Bride is a B.

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JOINT REVIEW:  The Importance of Being Wicked by Miranda Neville

JOINT REVIEW: The Importance of Being Wicked by Miranda Neville

PLEASE NOTE: This joint review contains some SPOILERS. Also, I know the author a bit through Twitter. Jennie does not. –Janine

Jennie: I’d only read one of Miranda Neville’s previous books (The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton, to which I gave a B-), and had put her in the category of “authors I need to try more of, because I want to understand what the fuss is about.” So when Janine suggested a joint review of Neville’s new book, I jumped at the chance.

The Importance of Being Wicked by Miranda NevilleJanine: I’m a fan of Neville’s Burgundy Club series. I graded all those books in the B to B+ range and enjoyed them very much, so I too jumped at the chance to review The Importance of Being Wicked. I requested the ARC, but before I read it, I read Neville’s prequel novella, The Second Seduction of a Lady, and found it surprisingly disappointing.

I didn’t connect with the main characters in that one, though I liked what I saw of the heroine of The Importance of Being Wicked in it. On the whole, The Second Seduction of a Lady was readable but not memorable, and I gave it a C grade. So I wasn’t sure what to expect of The Importance of Being Wicked, but it ended up being one of my favorite Neville works.

Jennie: I may give The Second Seduction of a Lady a try, even though you found it disappointing. I’d like to see more of Caro, and since it’s only novella-length I don’t feel like I have much to lose by trying it.

The Importance of Being Wicked by Miranda Neville

Janine: Keep in mind that Caro is only 17 in that novella, and therefore a younger and more unformed version of herself. She’s also a side character in her cousin Eleanor’s story.

Jennie: Will do. On to The Importance of Being Wicked!

Caroline Townsend eloped with her husband Robert at 17, earning banishment from her family and forever, it seemed, cutting herself off from respectable society. It doesn’t help that she and Robert immersed themselves in a set that lived on the edges of society – penniless artists, disreputable aristocrats and bohemian types.

The life suits Caro, though; she’s a natural-born free spirit. But when the book opens, she has been widowed for a year (Robert was carried off by a fever) and is barely scraping by; she’s beset by her husband’s debtors, who have become particularly rapacious since the rumor circulated that she is in possession of a Titian painting.

Caro is able to hold most off with the claim that her late husband in fact sold the painting before his death, but in fact she’s secreting it in a hidden room in her house, unable to part with it for sentimental reasons.

Here my modern middle-class morality reared its head; while we see that one of those hounding Caro is an unscrupulous “gentleman” (to use the term loosely) to whom Robert owed a gambling debt, many of the debtors are apparently tradespeople. While I appreciated Caro’s attachment to the Titian, I also appreciated that these ordinary businessfolk deserved to be paid for their services. But that’s neither here nor there.

Shortly after her latest unpleasant encounter with dunning, Caro welcomes her cousin Anne to London. Anne is an heiress who is expected to make a match with the Duke of Castleton. When the Duke shows up at Caro’s house, hoping to begin wooing his prospective bride, he first encounters Caro and briefly mistakes her for Anne.

Thomas (the duke) is very proper and is discombobulated (to say the least) by the very-improper Caro, not to mention by the large painting hanging on the drawing room wall, featuring a nude with a passing resemblance to his red-headed hostess. Caro further shocks Thomas by questioning him impertinently about, among other things, whether he keeps a mistress.

Nevertheless, Thomas is reluctantly drawn to the irrepressible Caro, much more so than to her innocent and relatively conventional cousin. The Dukes of Castleton descend from a bastard of Charles II and one of his many mistresses, but since the title’s ignominious beginnings, the dukes themselves have been very proper and punctilious in their devotion to duty. They have a reputation of marrying for money with the aim of increasing the prestige of the Castleton name. Thomas plans to continue this tradition; he has the example of late father, who married for love and came to regret it, when he considers veering off course.

As for Caro, Thomas is the first man she’s been attracted to since her husband’s death, but she’s worried both about the differences in their respective worldviews, and about the possibility of poaching on her cousin’s territory.

So, we have a pretty basic story here: opposites attract. The fact that it’s the man who’s the virtuous one and the woman who’s the rogue, so to speak, makes the story less common, but by no means unique. (The Julie Ann Long book I read before this one had the same theme.) Still, it’s a set up that I enjoy, at least when it’s done well. It’s definitely done well in The Importance of Being Wicked.

Thomas and Caro’s mutual attraction deepens when they are stranded alone and unchaperoned in Newmarket together. But Thomas is restrained from consummating the relationship because – well, because he’s Thomas.

Caro would probably give into temptation, except that Thomas has lied that he and Anne are now betrothed; it’s the pretext upon which he feels he can ride to Caro’s rescue to save her from an unwanted suitor. (Caro resents his high-handedness when he claims that as an almost-about-to-be relative, she’s under his protection.)

There were a number of things that I liked about the relationship between Thomas and Caro, in part because I felt these aspects set the book a bit apart from many historical romances. For one, I liked the rapport that the couple establish very early on – she calls him “Lord Stuffy” and he doesn’t take offense, showing that while he may be stuffy indeed, he’s capable of laughing at himself. In general Thomas is a lovely hero, mature and sensitive (and only occasionally given to bouts of caveman-like possessiveness in regards to Caro).

Janine: Thomas was a sweetheart, responsible, caring, and not hugely experienced in the bedroom. He was in many ways the straight man to Caro’s wild child. I liked Thomas but Caro was the character I loved most in this book. More on that in a bit.

Jennie: I also liked the realistic and mature way the book dealt with a subject not often tackled in romance (or at least not tackled with any nuance): money. Caro needs it, to pay her creditors; she wrongly assumes that Thomas has it. Even though he’s a duke, Thomas has his own financial woes; perhaps not as serious as Caro’s, but he’s definitely not rolling in cash and he needs to dower his two youngest sisters, a responsibility that weighs heavily on him.

Caro is realistically portrayed as being bad with money, the way that people who have lived in a somewhat irresponsible manner sometimes are. I liked this because it wasn’t made to be a major character flaw or something that even really needed to be resolved or corrected. It’s just a trait of hers, and I really appreciate it when characters are given minor, specific flaws and virtues; it makes them feel so much more real to me.

Janine: I agree with you that flaws and quirks make characters more three-dimensional. I too liked the way the novel dealt with money. It’s an issue in so many people’s relationships yet we rarely see it come up in a romance novel.

Jennie: I did like Caro, but I also thought she was the more flawed character of the two and she bugged me a time or two. She has a tendency to idealize her carefree (and responsibility-free) life with her first husband, and to tolerate the behavior of their ne’er-do-well friends a bit too long. (Seriously, a tip for Caro: if your friends are constantly trying to screw you over financially, they aren’t very good friends.)

Janine: My reaction to this aspect of Caro was the opposite of yours. If anything, this made me love her more. Partly because I often like the more flawed character in a pair, but it went far beyond that here.

Caro felt like such an original character to me. I’ve met her like in real life, but never in the pages of a romance novel. Her tolerance for her friends flaws stemmed partly from an innate generosity and need for freedom in herself – more than anything, she wanted to be allowed to be who she was, and so she wanted to allow others to be themselves.

But partly, too, from a vulnerability that made her cover up her pain with laughter. She was lively, clever and funny, because it was a way to override pain. She wanted there to always be a party in her house because the party-goers and moochers kept her from being alone and lonely, prevented her from having to feel her pain and think on what it was and why it hurt.

I’ll add here that I also loved the milieu of artists and bohemians, something I don’t think I’ve ever encountered in a regency romance before. I could feel the warmth of Caro’s house and the way it was welcoming to creative types and connoisseurs of art who were not always happy people. Their way of life rang true, and their get togethers reminded me of a couple parties I have been to long ago.

Jennie: When you lay it out like that, it does make me more sympathetic to Caro. I mean, I think my perception of her was very similar to yours but because I felt protective of Thomas’s own vulnerability, I was impatient with Caro’s, at least when it made her act in ways that hurt Thomas. But I’m reminded that Caro did have reasons for holding onto her idealized vision of her first husband. She does feel conflicted about it:

And she felt that she was truly killing Robert. Because he’d not only been her husband and her lover, but his friends had given her a family, a warmth and connection she’d lacked from her mother and brother.

Overall, I thought there was a good balance in that neither Thomas’ nor Caro’s way of life was idealized. He needed to become less rigid (mostly for his own good), and she needed to grow up a little and start seeing the world more clearly.

Janine: Yes, they balanced each other well.

Jennie: I really like a romance in which the h/h make each other better people.

Janine: I’ve come to expect that from Neville’s books – she did something similar in The Dangerous Viscount and in Confessions from an Arranged Marriage. I think she does that opposites-meeting-in-the-middle thing very well.

Jennie: It works for me because in general I’m not terribly comfortable with romances where one character “saves” another – it often comes off as unhealthy to me, or it reminds me that the real-life corollaries to such romances are usually unhealthy.

IRL, I think the idea of lovers who make each other better people might be a slightly over-romanticized ideal. But for romance novels it is just right: neither too prosaic nor too fantastical.

Another aspect I liked was the way that the characters’ sexual experience is dealt with. Caro has only been with her husband, and it’s implied that Thomas has only been with his one long-time mistress. But Caro and her husband were in love and were not uptight, proper or stuffy, and so consequently their sex life was (at least early on) lusty and inventive.

Janine: Yes, and Caro’s husband Robert was clearly more experienced in the bedroom than Thomas, so she learned a few tricks he didn’t.

Jennie: Exactly. Caro has to be the one to inform Thomas that women orgasm too. I liked the gender switch here (even in stuffy hero/wild heroine romance, often the stuffy heroes have to be sexual dynamos, and the heroines relatively innocent). I also liked that Thomas was not threatened by Caro’s knowledge but took to his role of “student” with alacrity.

Janine: Yes, at one point Caro says “I do like a man who knows how to ask for directions,” – that was both funny and sexy. I’ll admit though that there were times I felt a little uncomfortable reading the sex scenes because there was something so real about the way Caro taught Thomas what she needed from him. I felt almost like a voyeur into two people’s private activities. But at the same time, the choice to have Caro teach Thomas felt right for their characters – she was the bohemian and he was the stuffy duke.

Speaking of which, Thomas reminded a tiny bit of Wulfric from Balogh’s Slightly Dangerous in that like Wulf, because he was a duke, he had a public persona and a very different private self. Caro was great for Thomas because she made him acknowledge his private self.

Jennie: That’s a good way of putting it. Again, it goes back in a way to the lovers making each other better – not just in the sense of correcting their flaws, but allowing them to be their true selves.

Janine: I like that. I think allowing others to be their true selves is often more important as well as harder than correcting flaws.

There was an interesting mirroring in the characters because the same was true of Caro to some degree. She had this life of the party bohemian persona, but also some underlying loneliness and sadness, and just as what Thomas needed from marriage was more than money and prestige, what she wanted and needed from a marriage went beyond the freedom that she kept telling herself was the important thing.

Jennie: What do you think she got from the marriage? Security?

Janine: Yes, security and stability. I think they were exactly what she needed.

Jennie: It sounds like a somewhat unromantic concept, but again I think it’s a more mature view of love and romance. I mean, Caro definitely felt passion for Thomas; that wasn’t an issue. But she had learned enough from her first marriage to realize that rebellion for rebellion’s sake wasn’t terribly fulfilling. She was able to trust Thomas in a way that she couldn’t trust Robert, and to rely on him.

Janine: Exactly, and at the same time, Thomas was supportive in a way that her blood relatives weren’t. Dependability may not be a glamorous quality, but I think it’s quite romantic in its own way. To know that you can count on someone when the chips are down – isn’t that something most of us want?

Jennie: Absolutely. I think Neville actually made it sexy, if not necessarily glamorous.

The Importance of Being Wicked wasn’t perfect, but I’m hard-pressed to come up with any major criticisms of it. Most of the notes I made while reading were positive. I noted early on that the word “comprehensive” was used too much and in weird contexts (for instance, love scenes). Also, I was annoyed by Caro refusing money from her mother, with whom she has a difficult relationship – it seemed both very stupid of her and out of character (she hadn’t seemed particularly prideful in her poverty up to that point).

Janine: The latter annoyed me initially too, mainly because unlike Caro, I knew Thomas needed money. But after further thought I realized that was an illogical reason to be annoyed! Caro didn’t have that information, and I think if Thomas had had plenty of money, as she thought, I would have immediately felt that her response to her mother was exactly the right one. Her mother was toxic (this might be clearer to readers of The Secret Seduction of a Lady than to someone who has only read The Importance of Being Wicked), and if the money weren’t needed, it certainly wouldn’t be worth letting her back into Caro’s life. So when I think it out, I see that my initial annoyance makes no sense.

A flaw I noticed was that a serious conflict that crops up between Thomas and his mother in the second half was resolved in the blink of an eye. I wasn’t 100% convinced by the way that happened.

Jennie: I see your point, but I liked it because it showed Thomas growing and unbending, which he needed to do. The plot point could have been better developed, though (and I guessed the “surprise” associated with it well ahead of time).

Janine: There was also a point around the midpoint of the book where the plot conflict switched gears –whereas previously the main conflict was Thomas’ devotion to his father’s expectations for him and his resulting determination to marry Caro’s cousin Anne, that obstacle faded and money and trust issues came to the forefront. It took a bit of time for the later conflicts to gear up and for a little while my interest started flagging, but then those conflicts ramped up and I was back to being fully engaged.

On the whole though, I agree with you that there were very few flaws in this one. Some of Neville’s other books don’t fully engage me until about a quarter or so of the way in, or rush the denouement so that I don’t get as much emotional satisfaction as I’m hoping for. With this book, I felt that Neville nailed the beginning and that there was a really satisfying ending. The latter might have been due to the fact that Caro had some heavy issues from her first marriage to overcome and angst-fan that I am, I loved the scene where she came to terms with them.

Jennie: Ultimately, I did find the romance in The Importance of Being Wicked to be really quite lovely. Thomas and Caro, in addition to the usual lusting after each other, really seem to like each other. At one point she observes him, left to fend for himself and trying to cook (not something in a duke’s skill set, really), confronting a basket of eggs: “He picked one up, a small white oval cradled in his large palm, and considered it. Still baffled, adorably so.” Awww.

Later, when they are dining together:

“Do you know what I’d like?” he said. “I’d like a picture of us now at this table. I’d like to keep it to remind me of a happy moment.”

Oh my. Her heart would burst.

I think my heart melted a bit at that. The fondness between them, and the sort of sweetness, isn’t something you see in every romance.

So I think I can say that I now “get” Miranda Neville, and I plan to dive further into her backlist. My grade for The Importance of Being Wicked is a B+.

Janine: That was a heart-melting moment. I envy you for having her backlist ahead of you. And yeah, Neville’s characters are sweet and fond of one another in a way that’s really special because the notes she strikes feel true. This book stands out for its warmth and realness. It’s a B+ for me as well.

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