It’s April, the cruellest month, and Elena is getting ready to go to a party. Her maid Donata is dressing her in some gown thing Elena hates, and helping with Elena’s makeup (which is a waste of time because Elena is so plain) and doing Elena’s hair, which she’s actually pretty good at. Elena is miserable about Donata, because Donata clearly thinks she is hopeless and Elena agrees, but nobody bonds over personal criticism, so these two just aren’t getting along. Then Elena emerges from her boudoir into her beautiful mansion, and her perfect handsome husband gives her diamonds and takes her arm, and whispers ‘tonight’ to her, and it’s all miserable and Elena is trapped, and fate is about to deal her an inexorable and fatal blow.
If this wasn’t a romance, the ‘tonight’ could have been about something completely different, like killing the president to save a seven year old, but because it’s a romance it’s a pretty safe bet that ‘tonight’ is for bedtimes. It’s a comfort to know that such bedtimes have the emotional power equivalent of assassinating a world leader to save an innocent child.
‘Tonight’ is still many pages in the future, for Elena escapes into a flashback, and the story restarts itself last June.
Angelo is visiting his nice nanna and his evil auntie, and they are both insistent that he must get married, because he is a Count, and must secure the line of succession. Angelo’s not terribly keen on the idea, especially because his nanna and aunt are very crassly hinting they know about his current but immanently defunct relationship with Silvia, a married evil hussy. They suggest some girl named Elena, because they knew her mum. Angelo nixes the idea, he met Elena at one of Silvia’s dinner parties, and she was boring.
Nanna and the Aunt are disappointed, but Angelo has a bigger problem. Angelo needs to get a loan from Prince Crocodile’s bank, or his fashion house will suffer and employees will be flung starving into Roman gutters. He must ponder how to best extract money from Prince Crocodile, and how to more firmly insist to Silvia the evil hussy that they are no longer an item.
Silvia, meanwhile, visits her cousin Elena and persuades her to come along and visit their Madrina (godmother), who is a Princess, at her country Princess palace. But Elena wants to go to her sea cottage to be alone! No, Elena must come to the Princess palace, it’s important.
Silvia is very beautiful and spoiled and married to a rich man. Elena is plain and shy and she has a job as a translator and doesn’t really swank around in the same circles as Silvia. But Silvia is her only living relative, so she agrees. Anyway, Elena always gets to stay in the Princess tower when she visits Princess Madrina, so it’s not all bad.
Princess Madrina is the wife of Prince Crocodile, so Angelo is also heads to the palace, because he needs to schmooze that loan. His nanna is also there, and some other old rich aristos. It’s a very weird party for Silvia to crash, but she’s got schemes. She gets Angelo alone and persuades him to visit her inner palace one last time, and provides directions. Which Angelo follows, and he gets into bed with a naked sleeping girl, but that naked sleeping girl is Elena.
Elena gets out a few ‘eeps’ but simultaneously there’s a knock on the door, and the door is flung open. It is Princess Madrina and cronies! ‘Elena, there’s an intruder in the garden!’ Princess Madrina brandishes her crossbow and heads to the tower window. ‘He will rue the night he stepped foot on Crocodile lands … oh hello, you have naked company.’ Or something like that.
So there’s Elena in bed with Angelo, and everyone is super shocked, and Elena and Angelo must get married, because he has compromised her. Suddenly, we’re back in the 19th century (or an even earlier century) and honour is a huge deal, and two unmarried people getting naked is everybody’s business and everybody’s shame. While in days of yore far worse things have probably gone down in the Princess palace, if you’re rich and titled and decide you want to live as if you’re back in the olden days, you go big and commit. And perhaps Princess Madrina and Prince Crocodile were looking forward to very soon putting up a plaque stating, ‘now scandal free for a century!’ Google translate tells me that in Latin that’s: quia scandalum nunc libero a saeculo! I think they would write it in Latin rather than Italian for the extra posh factor.
Prince Crocodile decides that he won’t lend Angelo any money unless Angelo marries Elena. Wow, banks. They’ll do anything to torture their customers. Someday there’ll be a TV show called ‘Loan Applications’ where contestants will battle Hunger Games style for a mortgage. Elena is less easy to persuade into marriage: she’s not really that interested in preventing the descent of Angelo’s employees into gutters. Couldn’t he go to another bank? No?
All Angelo really has for persuasion is that if they don’t marry, Silvia will be exposed to scandal and then divorce, and maybe Elena wouldn’t like everyone talking about how they were simultaneously naked in the Princess tower, and also, Crocodile and Madrina will be disappointed they can’t get their plaque.
‘It’ll be a marriage in name only,’ Angelo sneers, ‘because you are so plain, and I will be too busy sleeping with other hussies, and then your cousin again because she is beautiful and not you, you plain plainy pants,’ is what Elena hears, but she still goes along with it. Her only win is that she strategizes keeping her job as a translator, on a work from home basis. Angelo is not happy.
Neither is Elena, and they avoid each other unless they have to go to balls and assemblies and routs and the opera, and all the other 19th century aristo things modern Italian aristos do. Elena starts getting pressured to Produce the Heir, and eventually Angelo suggests it might a nice hobby for them, having a baby Countling. Elena thought she’d be out of the marriage after a year, tops, but fine, she’ll go along with it. But: only if they get to have politely appalling sex.
This is very upsetting to Angelo because he has skills. How dare she deny him the right to demonstrate them?
Politely appalling sex is kind of kinky, what with repressing all those sensations and feels, and lying back and not quite thinking of England, and keeping most of your clothes on, and then your partner asking if you’re comfortable post deed. If he’d dragged her to her knees on the cold flagstone floor, and insisted they pray for a half hour beforehand, I’d have been in heaven. I do love a bit of politely appalling sex.
Elena endures, and we’re back at the party in April, and she can endure no more and she flees. She goes to her sea cottage, and competently writes her highly technical translations of complex stuff, and walks the neighbour’s dog. While she’s, and I’m being generous, at least 65% responsible for her own sufferings, I still liked her for having a great job and sticking with it.
Then comes the literary device, and this story is elevated from kind of good, with all those role playing rich aristos, to epic greatness. It’s a bit overkill to have both a long flashback and this literary device and it’s completely transparent, but it was just awesome. And then politely appalling sex was locked in a cupboard and there were star explosions and impossible to deny feels, and a hero finally saying just gorgeous things. And there were also nuns and it was all rounded off with some championship level grovelling, and I’m betting Donata was forgiven or got the sack. This is most definitely my favourite Sara Craven until I read the next one.