Forging steadfastly ahead past the first few shaky chapters with their weird setups, awkward characters' thoughts, and iffy premises, this book went from a rocky 2 star start to 4 star end. I've not read an author that pulled off a"Most Improved" in the middle of the actual book before.
Toby is a darling. It's been a while since I've encountered such a light hearted, charming yet deeply caring, open hearted lead male character. I love that his family was not the usual angsty variety too. I also quite liked how much of the book was from the man's perspective.
Bel was too prissy and preachy but somehow she never became too grating as a character. The author always pulled back just as I was about to get irredeemably annoyed at her.
A different more relatable less self righteous heroine would have improved the book significantly. The scene where she presented him with the cane went a long way towards redeeming her. And Dayuummn the "You're not welcome. This is a family matter, not a charity event" line that Toby dropped on her later in the book was all kinds of stellar.
Once the marriage happens the book grows mightily and settles into a heartwarming rhythm with genuine emotions, endearing interactions, well done steamy scenes (plot appropriate and sensuous without being vulgar or repetitive), and actual character growth (less so on the Bel side of things).
It's flawed yes, (particularly that awkwardly squeezed in secondary romance that frankly should have been a separate novella) but the wallop it packs and the choice lines delivered makes it worthy of enjoyment despite its flaws, which frankly I don't feel the need to enumerate further.
LINES I LIKED
“I’m but a pauper next to you, but even we paupers have our pride. Perhaps I have just this one coin to give, but I should like to watch it glitter a bit, before you go burying it under ten-pound notes”
-----
She pulled back and studied him, that boundless trust shining in her eyes. “You would not ask it of me, if I could not.”
And right then, Toby knew. He knew he was doomed.
He could run for Parliament. He could win. He could become bloody Prime Minister and the Prince Regent’s closest adviser. He could travel to Ceylon and back just to bring her a cup of tea, converting a thousand heathens along the way—and he would still never live up to that look in her eyes. No man could. Someday, somehow, he would hurt her—and it would mean the end of everything. Oh, she would forgive him, generous soul that she was. They would still share a cordial affection. But she would never look at him like this again, as if … as if he deserved her faith in him. One day, they would both know he did not.
But for now—and for as long as he could keep it so—it remained Toby’s secret.
----
And when their lips met, the world stopped. God, he loved kissing her, nearly as much as he loved bedding her. Toby had never thought himself an especially fanciful fellow, but damned if there wasn’t something magical in the brush of her mouth against his. Not in the sense of fairy-story pixie dust or cauldrons bubbling with superstitious claptrap. Magic of the ancient, primeval sort. The unleashing of an elemental force.
----
Bel buried her face in the linen of his shirt, now softened with heat and the scents of both man and horse. And then she began to weep. “Yes, darling,” he murmured, stroking her back. “Go ahead, cry. The danger is over and you are unharmed, and for that you may weep just as long as you wish. Shed tears enough for us both, if you’d be so good.”
-----
“Still, at fourteen I had my dreams. Pictured myself charging around French battlefields, spilling Bonapartist blood.”
Toby laughed a little. Ah, to be young and spend hours spinning detailed, grandiose fantasies of changing the world. Isabel certainly wasn’t a girl any longer, but she’d somehow retained that youthful idealism he’d long outgrown. He didn’t always understand her zeal, but he did admire it. At times, he envied it. Honor, Justice, Charity … the way she pronounced those terms, he could hear the capital letters implied. They were words she spoke often, but never lightly.
----
Grinning like a fool, Toby adorned her gleaming ebony crown with the ivy wreath he’d fashioned, then framed her bewildered smile in his hands.
“Isabel, I know I’ve told you this a hundred times or more. And now I regret not saving the words for this moment. For that matter, I regret ever speaking them to anyone else, because now the words seem too paltry, too common. Completely inadequate. But I promise you, I’ve never meant them more honestly than I do right here, right now. You are … beautiful. Truly, you take my breath away.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my. Now that was impressive indeed.”
“Was it?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “Even I’m breathless, and I’m not romantic by nature. I can’t imagine what that little speech must have done to your young, impressionable ladies.”
------
“The way the note hangs in the air, even after she ceases to sing ... I know I’m not actually hearing it any longer, but I feel it, resonating in the air. In me.”
He was silent. Bel’s cheeks heated. She must sound ridiculous and naïve.
“I understand perfectly,” he finally said. His voice held no trace of amusement—only warmth and tenderness. “I think I feel that way sometimes, when I’m parted from you. Even when you’re not with me, it’s like … there’s an echo of you that settles in my chest.” He lifted her hand from her lap and brought it to his lips, then pressed it to his solar plexus. “Here. I feel you here, always. Sometimes it hurts.”