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376 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published October 1, 2013


Mary Evensong was tired. Tired of wearing smoke-gray spectacles that covered her hazel eyes. Tired of wearing an itchy gray wig that covered her russet hair. Tired of the problems that came in by the sack loads every time the mailman rang her doorbell.
- Opening paragraph, Chapter 1
Mary stuck her tongue out at the painted Edith and felt no better.
- Chapter 25
Mummy says I should give the place a try, and since it is so close, I just might. I am so tired of her lecturing me about my duty.
- Edith's diary, Chapter 26
I left her while I amused myself in London, and then even after I returned, we lived separate lives. She breakfasted by herself. Dined by herself. I'd stopped trying. We barely spoke, and when we did talk, to was to argue.
...
"We could have managed in a white marriage. People do. People whose desires are kept under control. But I didn't have any self-control. I thought with my cock, I'd fuck anyone available. Maybe I'm still doing that."
...
"She tried to tell me, but I didn't pay proper attention. We quarrelled as usual over something stupid -- can you believe I can't even remember what? I've tried and tried, and it's a blur, just accusations and recriminations running together like a jerky movie reel. She ran away from me, came up here, and jumped."
- Chapter 31
It seemed pretty clear that Edith had not accidentally stepped out her window into the void. Somehow Mary couldn't see a disgruntled servant pushing her, no matter how demanding she'd been. Alec would have moved heaven and earth to discover the culprit who was responsible.
And he had settled on Bauer.
- Chapter 25
Now Mary understood what all those silly romance books Harriet loaned her meant when they used their ellipses. Mary dot-dot-dotted, her hands on Alec's shoulders, her eyes fluttering shut. She didn't need to watch him anymore, only feel his mastery over her as he overcame his scruples and kissed her like she was the only woman in the world.
- Chapter 11
"Mary's up there. Miss Arden. Miss Evensong," Alec amended.
"You have three women in your chamber? A regular harem! By God, Alec, I'm proud of you! I thought you'd lost your touch when Edith died. We were all so worried about you."
- Alec talking to Evan, Chapter 29
3.5 stars for me. In summary: predictable, cliché, enjoyable, and exactly what it says on the tartan.
I arrived at In the Heart of the Highlander fully prepared to be swept onto a horse by a brooding Scotsman with excellent shoulders and a tragic past, and in fairness, the book delivered precisely that. Like a very punctual stage coach.
I had spotted that book a while back, but saw that it came second in the series. So I read book one first out of sheer stubborn commitment to chronology, and started this one fully aware that Maggie Robinson’s prose has all the decorative flair of a wool cloak. Entirely serviceable, occasionally cosy, not especially memorable. Which, to be clear, is not necessarily a failing when one has come for corseted heroines posing as 70 year-old to run an agency of sorts, rich and tilted Highlanders in kilt , yearning, and the promise of dramatic revelations on a gothic backdrop.
This second book was definitely better than the first, perhaps because the premise appealed to me from the start. I am but a simple woman. Whisper “mysterious dead wife” at me and I will follow you directly into the Scottish moors without so much as a bonnet.
The trouble is that everything unfolded exactly as expected. The characters were pleasant, the story was pleasant, the steam pleasantly steamy, and yet the whole affair felt rather like being handed a very nice oatcake when one had secretly hoped for a feast and a much bigger scandal.
Still, the book absolutely succeeds as escapism. It places you firmly into the muscular embrace of a Highlander and keeps you there until the final page, which is honestly a public service in these difficult times. I enjoyed myself well enough, but not enough to continue the series, especially now that the agency’s main character appears comfortably settled and presumably no longer darting about causing intrigue like a romantically inclined magpie.