She was born long enough ago to have seen Classic Trek on its first outing and to remember that she once thought Spock Must Die! to be great literature. As she aged, she put aside her fond dreams of taking over for Batman when he retired, and returned to her first love, writing. Her first SF sale (as Eluki Bes Shahar) was the Hellflower series, in which Damon Runyon meets Doc Smith over at the old Bester place. Between books and short stories in every genre but the Western (several dozen so far), she's held the usual selection of odd and part-time writer jobs, including bookstore clerk, secretary, beta tester for computer software, graphic designer, book illustrator, library clerk, and administrative assistant for a non-profit arts organization. She can truthfully state that she once killed vampires for a living, and that without any knowledge of medicine has illustrated half-a-dozen medical textbooks.
Her last name -- despite the efforts of editors, reviewers, publishing houses, her webmaster, and occasionally her own fingers -- is not spelled 'Edgehill'.
An attractive young woman, possessed of a handsome fortune, Lady Juliette Devereaux thought it would be a simple matter to find a husband, someone who would help her to manage Chaceley, the prosperous estate she was to inherit. Insulated by her wealth, and guided by no judgment but her own, the motherless Juliette set out to take the Ton by storm, only to find - to her chagrin - that her London season was not the string of social successes she expected. Outspoken and independent, with a taste for overly colorful clothing not appropriate in a young woman making her debut, Juliette wasn't "quite the thing," and received nary a proposal.
Her invitation to a house-party at Duckmanton, the Sussex estate of Lord and Lady Ralph Candlesby, arrived just in time to offer her an alternative to visiting her autocratic Aunt Solange, and explaining her conduct, and Juliette jumped at the opportunity. But house parties can be dangerous, as Juliette learned when confronted with "Bad Barham," the wicked son of the Duke of Owlsthorne, and the last man on earth to make her a suitable mate. Why then, could she not stop thinking of him...?
Although Edghill's premise here is intriguing - a socially inept heroine meets a socially damaged hero - she somehow fails to translate it into as engaging a narrative as I would have hoped. I expected to identify more with Juliette's experiences, but found her mostly irritating. Barham is an amusing character, until he decides to teach the heroine a lesson. I have seen Two of a Kind described as an "irreverent" Regency, but I myself would probably use the word "melodramatic." Juliette is strong, but needs "taming," Barham is a bad boy, but only because he's "misunderstood." It's possible I just wasn't in the right mood for this one, but my final thought, on closing the book, was that it would have benefited from being 100 pages shorter, with fewer dramatic contretemps.
This book is similar to a Heyer romance, though not as deftly written as Heyer's best. All the characters are stereotypes (in the same way that Heyer's could be - although the stereotypes Edgehill is using are different from Heyer's standards) The heroine, Lady Juliette Devereaux, reminds me of an incompetent Sophy (from Georgette Heyer's _The Grand Sophy_) - she's bossy and commanding, wealthy and headstrong, but socially immensly clueless. Her characterization as a practical land-manager rings a bit modern to my ear, but made for an interesting set of contra-temps. The hero, the rakish Marquess of Barham, heir to a Dukedom, is a fairly standard Rake with a Heart of Gold who wants to be reformed. He's clever and charming, but I couldn't quite figure out when or why he fell in love with the heroine. The one character you see manipulating people as successfully as the Grand Sophy, is Anthony Devereaux, cousin to our heroine, who considers him a complete fool, for no discernable reason. He’s hardly the idiot she treats him as, and has a very literary sense of humor which is the source of some of the funniest observations in the book. There were scenes and exchanges that were wonderfully amusing... but I'm afraid I found most of it rather flat.
For those of you who care about this: here is no sex in the book at all. Barely a kiss, either. Very Heyer-like in that respect.
I am always really impressed with Edghill's ability to give a sense of place and time in her books. This one is a comedy of manners that has reached epic regency cirque du soleil levels. At one point I thought to myself 'dang can things get even more complicated? i'm only half way through the book!....' It can, and it did.
(this would make an excellent play for a college cast with the right editing.)
One of the rare few romances I love. Like a Georgette Heyer novel with less flighty heroines and a good infusion of absurdist humor in the style of British television.