What do you think?
Rate this book


386 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 29, 2007
Here I am going to indulge myself with a short (but overdue) aside on Fathers of Heroines in HR. To a man, they are distressingly two-dimensional, with well-defined stock sub-species, categorised (à la Heyer) into:-
Mark I - thoughtless charming gamblers, frequently dead. The Dead Gambler model generally leaves unwise mortgages and at least one soggy widow whose primary function is to be a helpless burden on the victimised heroine.
Mark II - benevolent old souls, often with a cloud of gossamer-like silver hair (however unlikely this is in men who can - on a strict accounting - be very little older than 45) and no money. They are also absent-minded and call the heroine "my dear", possibly because they have forgotten her real name, as they also tend to have more than usually large families. That absent-mindedness again.
Mark III - "You'll do as I say, young lady, or it'll be bread and water for a week." The rewards of tyranny are sweet: the Dictator Daddy model is always rich, well-connected, and enjoys fine food and wine. The natural habitat of these fathers is their study, although they have also been sighted on doorsteps, kicking undesirables down into the mud.
The fathers of heroes are generally the Mark III (Paediatric Whipping) model. It should be noted, though, as a warning to heroes' fathers everywhere, that they are more than likely to have died in freak hunting accidents before the story opens. This is obviously tough on the father in question, but it does allow the hero to suffer stoically the effects of childhood abuse while sleeping on silken sheets. [Note to self - become a Regency-era therapist next time round.]
I'd be delighted to hear of any properly nuanced exceptions to Wickham's Law of Awful Fathers. Sir Horace Stanton-Lacy is the only real candidate, and since he doesn't actually talk to his daughter during the entire book, I'm not sure he's altogether typical.