Similar to my experience with her beloved debut, this writing just clicks for me. Page 1, we’re in a glistening ballroom, click, click, click. And again, so unabashedly, fundamentally Regency but always a thing or two to make it distinctive. Like, for example, a cast taken right out of those Doublemint gum classic commercials (IYKWM then you know how egregiously I’ve just aged myself). But most of all for this particular book, I love the heart-pumping suspense of when a straightforward, externally low-stakes Regency tale asks my favorite follow-up to the universal question of “Will love conquer all?” Which is: “Including our own stupidity?”
Brace yourself for some exquisite second- hand embarassment because bookish Miss Clare Compton is Ballroom Murphy’s Law personified and needs a debutante mortification punch card. It’s brutal out there in the crush, especially if you have social anxiety and, either commit newbie blunder after blunder, or chaos finds you. It’s this bumpy start that gives an opening for childhood rival Patrick Milton to present a mutually beneficial arrangement. I do love a flimsy strategy that gets constantly sidetracked by pesky unacknowledged emotions. Because, you know, hanging out with the former hoyden that should be-is, ahem-of course she is, basically like a little sister to you, of course, what could transformatively happen? And, fun fact on this trope, I myself married my childhood harmless tormentor, so the sweet, sweet sense of justice when the teasing enemy ends up the love-addled pursuer is very near to my heart.
But we’ve got ourselves a particularly, stubbornly oblivious “Never Catch Feels” friend-zoner charmer here. The anticipation of seeing him choke on that “You and Me? Don’t Be Ridiculous!” guffaw kept me giddy the whole way through. Oh, how I loved this Mr. Milton, the elder twin. Effortlessly magnetic and endearingly protective to a fault, he’s not what you’d call a quick study in the art of love and self-awareness, but he makes up for it in well-intentioned attempts and mostly timely apologies. She did give him his Mr. Knightley “Badly done, Emma” moments, but Rachel Kelley Stones rubbed hands and made him pay dearly for the unrequited pining he’s unwittingly caused. And, all that it takes for me to sacrifice sleep and exultantly slow clap over a romance is that the stage is set for our hero to fall on his face and then be prostrate to grovel while he’s down there. I was so happy with it that I even was like “Throwing in a bit of love triangling? Sure, why not? This one needs all the jealousy nudges he can get.” Could not put it down.
Now, continue to brace for those third act reveals and antics because it gets bumpier and one has to hold on to hope that lessons will be learned and the grovel/gesture punishment will fit the unrequiting crime, our recurring theme of begging pardon crescendoing to a full “I’m an idiot” finale. All in all, I submit dues were paid and these two gingers satisfyingly get to have their happily ever after. Though you know decades down the line he’ll be joking like “Remember when you did this (insert embarassing moment) at that ball?” and Clare will then rub in his face “Remember how you had to bumble and get out of your own way to win me until I took pity on you?” and then the balance will be reestablished to marriage bliss. Now that’s HEA.
So grateful to the author for an ARC. This releases May 7th!
Content notes: Brief Kissing Only. Brief mention of toxic parents.
*MIGHT SPOIL*
On page non-graphic gun violence.