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400 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 12, 2022
Kaetrin: Remember Love is clearly the beginning of a new series for Balogh – the first chapters introduce a huge cast of characters (so many names!!). I counted a potential of at least 6 more novels in the Ravenswood series.
Devlin Ware is the eldest legitimate son of the Earl of Stratton, owner of Ravenswood Park in Boscombe. There is an older brother, Ben Ellis (and I want his story so much now) who is illegitimate and was born before the earl’s marriage to Devlin’s mother. He came to live with the Wares as a very young child and appears to have been largely raised with the Ware siblings. Ben is now the steward at Ravenswood and he and Devlin run the estates for the earl.
The book begins in 1808 when Devlin is 22. The earl is vibrant and entrepreneurial, great at socialising and always the life of the party. Devlin is… not. Devlin’s next younger brother, Nick, has inherited their father’s affable flair but Devlin is more contained and introverted. He’s a serious young man and very self-righteous, valuing duty and integrity and service to those he loves. He’s not a stick in the mud though and he’s also not jealous of his brother constantly outshining him.
Janine: I thought what happens later revealed him to be a bit of a stick in the mud, actually. There was a rigidness to him.
Kaetrin: I guess it depends on your definition of “stick in the mud”. He was pretty rigid about duty but he was not humorless or lacking in emotion.
Janine: Yes, you’re right.
Kaetrin: Devlin is in love with their neighbour Gwyneth Rhys, daughter of Sir Ifor and Lady Bronwyn Rhys who own a property which borders Ravenswood.

“I love you,” he said. “I honor you and I . . . I want you. I want you as my countess and my companion and lover. I want to have children with you. I came here to remember. I did it on my own a day or two ago. But I needed you here with me. Not to remember what happened but how it felt. I can remember love. I can remember the euphoria and the hope and the . . . trust. I can remember being in love. I believe I can offer you almost all I could offer when I was able to love. And I will do my best. I will even remember to tell you from time to time that I love you, and I will not be lying. But I am not that young man any longer.” … “Devlin,” she said. “Love is not a feeling. It can reveal itself in feelings. It can bring intense happiness and the depths of despair. But it is not a feeling. It is not a belief or action either, though it can show itself in both. It is . . . But there I am stumped, of course, for the word itself means nothing, and what it represents cannot be confined within words at all. I did not even know you very well six years ago, even though I had been in love with you for at least six years before that. But I am very sure that you love far more deeply and compassionately now than you did then. Including me. You love me more now than you did then. If that word does not suit you, then let it go from your vocabulary. It is not important. It is just a word.”