One thing to know: if you're looking for a light, fluffy, fun, escapist historical romance, wait until you're in the mood for something with a bit more gravitas. Right now, with dealing with worries over COVID-19, the upcoming election, rampant unemployment, racial and social justice and #metoo, I've been binging historical romances (HRs). Instead of reading other genres that I enjoy (like fantasy, sci-fi, mysteries and thrillers), I've been looking for stories that make me laugh from the witty banter and end with me having a stupid grin over the HEA.
As I started this book, I wasn’t prepared for a first-person narrator whose emotions are on the raw, maudlin and jaded/traumatized side. It initially had me feeling detached rather than immersed in the story, which had me contemplating not finishing it. It's not that she’s unlikable. She’s just more bitter and desperate than our typical RH heroine and since it's her first-person narration that made it a harsher read. I’m glad I did stick it out because it engages with things that can be unsettling and we all need that sometimes.
Our story’s heroine, Patience, is a widow. Her husband, Colin, recently took his own life after a long depression, leaving her at the mercy of his dastardly uncle Markham. Markham has had Patience committed to Bedlam in order to take control of her son, baby Lionel, so he can steal both Lionel’s and Patience’s fortunes. Luckily, Patience has been liberated by Lady Shrewsberry and her Widow’s Grace ladies, rescued widows whose lack of power left them vulnerable to things like being falsely imprisoned in Bedlam, who now work to help other women in similar circumstances.
Our story starts with Patience dressed as a man in order to sneak into her own home to breast-feed her son. Ironically, this happens to be the day that Busick Strathmore, the Duke of Repington, arrives to liberate Lionel and eject Markham from the occupation of said family home. Since his cousin died and made him Lionel’s ward, Repington has been hunting for Lionel and Patience. He’s finally located Lionel but Colin’s widow has disappeared without a trace. Lady Shrewsberry knows Repington well and arranges for Patience to be hired as Lionel’s wet nurse. The logic behind not simply revealing Patience’s identity is that they have no proof of Markham’s villainy and no way of guaranteeing that Repington won’t believe the lies and throw her back in Bedlam forever.
This story has an interesting plot. It’s certainly not mundane or boring. It also explores some dynamics and issues that are less than typical for historical romances. First, while our hero is a typically-titled gentleman and has been wounded in the war against Napoleon, what’s less than typical is that he’s lost part of his leg and still bears shrapnel in his spine. While other stories’ heroes might also bear scars, the story delves into how Repington is coming to terms with his changed identity, a struggle that is complicated by the relative newness of his loss (both in terms of adjusting to his handicap and to no longer being fit to fight) and his feelings of responsibility to other soldiers who have been similarly wounded. How can he inspire them and help them to recover when his wounds make him weak? Where Repington used to be a consummate ladies’ man, now who will want a man who’s not whole and could very well end up being an invalid one day? Our story does an admirable job of not being heavy handed with Repington’s struggles.
The story also has a heroine who is not white: Patience is from the West Indies and is categorized as mulatto. She has to not only deal with differences in culture, but racial and gender politics. Whereas back at home, she was empowered and respected (her family is rich), in England she’s alien, she’s not white, she’s female and she’s censured for being herself (because respectable ladies don’t argue with men or have an opinion). Marriage to Colin did nothing to help mitigate the trauma that Patience has suffered through, nor did it do anything to help her feel value in a world predisposed to devalue her.
One of the things that lessened my enjoyment of the story was the almost-bitter way she experiences life and the almost-brutal way things affected her. We hear her tale through a first person narrative, so instead of an omnipotent narrator, we get her anguished perspective. She’s been through horrible things: abandonment by her depressed husband, having to deal with his skeevy uncle, her husband’s suicide and the guilt felt afterward, said uncle making sure she feels total blame for Colin’s death, being starved and imprisoned first in her own home and then in Bedlam (where she was literally chained to a wall). The papers that would grant her both money and freedom are locked up in her stolen home. Most traumatic is that her son has been stolen and is being neglected by the dastardly uncle. All this leads to a raw pain that is not typical of the anguish a HR heroine might experience. I’ve hurt with, related to, and cried through characters’ experiences, but Patience’s story made me uncomfortable, not because of the issues of race or gender, but the aching wound that is inflicted by those systemic issues and survivor’s guilt.
Most stories, let alone HRs, don’t typically delve into suicide. They might reference it or hint at it, but rarely do they wrestle with it and how it affects those left behind the way this story does. Not only do we see the guilt it produces but we also see the helplessness family members can feel when trying to help someone. Patience’s feelings of worth have been damaged by all the ways that she’s ‘failed,’ including not foreseeing Colin’s suicide. Throughout the book, she grapples with her guilt and reclaiming herself from her trauma.
I have to applaud Riley for tackling these meaty issues well. We aren’t beat over the head with them, but they aren’t hidden from us either. So it makes our story a little heavier that the usual HR. While I liked how the romance unfolded and look forward to reading Jemina’s story, I don’t know it’ll be one I reread. I think I’ll have to be in the mood for a more serious story than doesn’t romanticize as much the events and social mores of the era.
My initial emotional reaction was 3/5, but after thinking about and processing it, I’m giving it a 4.5 for how well it tackles issues that we are still grappling with today.
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