Leo Sweetwater holds a coveted licence for daguerreotype at Hampton Court Palace, surrounded by genteelly impoverished grace-and-favour residents and crowds of eager day-trippers.
He also holds three closely-guarded secrets: his affections lie with men, he’s in love with his best friend, Cole, and he’s been haunted since childhood by the ghosts of the Palace.
An affair with an earl’s son is probably not the best idea for a man with a reputation to protect and so many things to hide, but Leo’s lonely and Harry’s very handsome. When the ill-advised fling has unexpected repercussions, secrets are threatened, shades of the past stir, and Leo must contend with malign forces, both from beyond the veil and among the living.
Luckily, he’s got Cole, his dog, and a friendly ghost on his side.
Wendy Palmer lives in Bridgetown, Western Australia with her partner, son, dogs, goats, alpacas, bees and chickens. She's patted tigers, ridden elephants, dog-sledded across glaciers, faced down lions in the Serengeti, swum with whale sharks, and camped in the Sahara, but she not-so-secretly prefers curling up with a good book.
She writes fantasy fiction with entertaining characters, enjoyably perilous adventures, romantic entanglements, some dark undertones, but always happy, hopeful endings.
I am so glad that Bloody Stupid Johnson really was a Discworld reference! I enjoyed this but, as a fluent French speaker, I wish the author had taken more care with the inclusion of French ― it’s possible that two close friends in the 19th century would address each other using vous (formal) instead of tu (informal), but they wouldn’t switch back and forth between vouvoiement and tutoiement, especially not within the same conversation. There were a couple other minor French errors as well, nothing as egregious but not the standard I expect from Palmer.
Regrettable choice to make chapter 1 an inpenetrable thicket of names and family relationships and grievances that nearly made me quit 3 times and ultimately didn't matter a whit to the story. Classic case of an author too in love with their own research and unable to see that it obscures rather than clarifies the story. I quite liked Leo, Cole, Polly and the Fitzhenrys (and of course, the true hero: Max), but oh, for a sterner editorial hand!
It’s Wendy Palmer so you should just read it. It’s also Wendy Palmer flirting with the cosy ghost story genre, while never falling into twee. In fact, I think this might almost be a story about Polly, my favourite ever fictional (or not) ghost, with a lovely little love story as a delicious snack on the side.
I enjoyed all the grace and favor characters. I could just imagine that community ripe with gossip and competition. The pace on this book was slow and steady.