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A review by jackiehorne
Betrothed by Christmas by Jess Michaels, Elizabeth Essex
4.0
ARC courtesy of Netgalley
3 for Michaels' "A Lady's Gift for Seduction"
4.5 for Essex's "A Lady's Gift for Scandal"
I requested this anthology of two interrelated Christmas Regency novellas because I'm a big fan of Elizabeth Essex. I hadn't read any Jess Michaels' books before.
The collection opens with Michaels' story, "A Lady's Gift for Seduction." The opening scene features the heroines of both novella at a December party in 1814, where twenty-two-year-old Lady Evangeline suggests to Miss Thomasina (Tamsin) Lesley (Essex's heroine) that getting herself "lightly ruined" by a male wallflower will allow her to work on her biography of Bess of Hardwicke than marry any of the silly men being thrown at her by her marriage-minded mother. For some unstated reason, though, Evangeline decides to pursue the scheme for herself, too, at least in part, thinking that her neighbor Henry Killham will make for the perfect "biddable groom," "one who would thwart her own father's potential interference and give her a lasting independence that few ladies of her sphere ever enjoyed." I'm not quite sure why Evangeline doesn't just ask Henry to marry her, rather than try to seduce him; he's held a torch for her for ages (as we are told in the scenes written from his POV), and she feels jealousy when Miss Lesley initially thinks of Henry as a candidate for her own ruination. But this seems like one of those stories we're supposed to laugh at, rather than laugh with, the heroine, which aren't my favorite. I also didn't understand why Henry's father, or Evangeline's, would be so upset about Henry's scientific pursuits; it wasn't a shocking thing at the time for an aristocrat to pursue scientific discoveries, or to publish same; it would not be "dragging the family name in the mud of trade."
The story becomes less silly, and more interesting, once Evangeline finally does confide in Henry, and the two decide to marry. Afterwards, both are feeling a bit at sea—Henry, because he has to promise (falsely) to give up his scientific endeavors in order to gain permission to wed from Evangeline's father, and Evangeline, who is afraid of Henry's kindness, afraid of giving up any sort of control, afraid of loss. I didn't at all care for the self-sacrificing nature of the resolution of the black moment; even though the other partner rejects said self-sacrifice, it still seems necessary that the sacrifice be offered, in order for the reconciliation to happen...
"A Lady's Gift for Scandal" by Elizabeth Essex is far more intelligent, and far more delightful, than the earlier novella. (And far more elegantly written too: "She was a counterfeit diamond at best, a determined bluestocking being made to masquerade as a marriageable ninny in search of an equally marriageable ninny of a man."). The "male wallflower" whom Evangeline suggests that Tamsin request to help her with her "light ruination" is Colonel Simon Cathcart, or "Simple Simon," a man who has returned from the war mentally damaged. Or so Simon would have society believe. For a man weary of "honing his instincts while curbing his impulses," which had "left him tangled in such knots that he no longer trusted himself," Simon far prefers to have everyone think him addlepated than to continually ask him about the glory of his war experiences. But of late, Simon's role of "everyone's favorite idiot" is growing a bit tiresome, and Miss Lesley's surprising proposal promises the kind of fun that he hasn't allowed himself to have in a long, long time.
What's so wonderful here isn't just the amusing premise; it's the way that Tamsin and Simon interact, especially the sheer pleasure and joy Simon takes in Tamsin as a person:
"For some reason he could not name, he liked her. He liked the bossy bundle of deliciousness who couldn't see past her own nose, but assumed all the world beyond her gaze should be as she saw it. There was something hopeful about that assumption. Something reassuring. And reassuringly human. She wanted to be the heroine of her own story. In short, just his type."
Tamsin's competence and dry humor gradually leads Simon to reveal bits of himself while still wearing the guise of Simple Simon, while his "light ruination," all under her direction, piques Tamsin's interest far more than she initially thought it would. And while their "fake ruination" plans do lead to some kissing, their relationship is based as much on their discovery of shared intellectual interests as it is on physical attraction. The previous story talked about the protagonists relating to one another as equals, but here we actually see two people interacting as equals, and appreciating both their similarities and their differences.
I've rarely read such a delightful take on the "fake engagement" trope.
3 for Michaels' "A Lady's Gift for Seduction"
4.5 for Essex's "A Lady's Gift for Scandal"
I requested this anthology of two interrelated Christmas Regency novellas because I'm a big fan of Elizabeth Essex. I hadn't read any Jess Michaels' books before.
The collection opens with Michaels' story, "A Lady's Gift for Seduction." The opening scene features the heroines of both novella at a December party in 1814, where twenty-two-year-old Lady Evangeline suggests to Miss Thomasina (Tamsin) Lesley (Essex's heroine) that getting herself "lightly ruined" by a male wallflower will allow her to work on her biography of Bess of Hardwicke than marry any of the silly men being thrown at her by her marriage-minded mother. For some unstated reason, though, Evangeline decides to pursue the scheme for herself, too, at least in part, thinking that her neighbor Henry Killham will make for the perfect "biddable groom," "one who would thwart her own father's potential interference and give her a lasting independence that few ladies of her sphere ever enjoyed." I'm not quite sure why Evangeline doesn't just ask Henry to marry her, rather than try to seduce him; he's held a torch for her for ages (as we are told in the scenes written from his POV), and she feels jealousy when Miss Lesley initially thinks of Henry as a candidate for her own ruination. But this seems like one of those stories we're supposed to laugh at, rather than laugh with, the heroine, which aren't my favorite. I also didn't understand why Henry's father, or Evangeline's, would be so upset about Henry's scientific pursuits; it wasn't a shocking thing at the time for an aristocrat to pursue scientific discoveries, or to publish same; it would not be "dragging the family name in the mud of trade."
The story becomes less silly, and more interesting, once Evangeline finally does confide in Henry, and the two decide to marry. Afterwards, both are feeling a bit at sea—Henry, because he has to promise (falsely) to give up his scientific endeavors in order to gain permission to wed from Evangeline's father, and Evangeline, who is afraid of Henry's kindness, afraid of giving up any sort of control, afraid of loss. I didn't at all care for the self-sacrificing nature of the resolution of the black moment; even though the other partner rejects said self-sacrifice, it still seems necessary that the sacrifice be offered, in order for the reconciliation to happen...
"A Lady's Gift for Scandal" by Elizabeth Essex is far more intelligent, and far more delightful, than the earlier novella. (And far more elegantly written too: "She was a counterfeit diamond at best, a determined bluestocking being made to masquerade as a marriageable ninny in search of an equally marriageable ninny of a man."). The "male wallflower" whom Evangeline suggests that Tamsin request to help her with her "light ruination" is Colonel Simon Cathcart, or "Simple Simon," a man who has returned from the war mentally damaged. Or so Simon would have society believe. For a man weary of "honing his instincts while curbing his impulses," which had "left him tangled in such knots that he no longer trusted himself," Simon far prefers to have everyone think him addlepated than to continually ask him about the glory of his war experiences. But of late, Simon's role of "everyone's favorite idiot" is growing a bit tiresome, and Miss Lesley's surprising proposal promises the kind of fun that he hasn't allowed himself to have in a long, long time.
What's so wonderful here isn't just the amusing premise; it's the way that Tamsin and Simon interact, especially the sheer pleasure and joy Simon takes in Tamsin as a person:
"For some reason he could not name, he liked her. He liked the bossy bundle of deliciousness who couldn't see past her own nose, but assumed all the world beyond her gaze should be as she saw it. There was something hopeful about that assumption. Something reassuring. And reassuringly human. She wanted to be the heroine of her own story. In short, just his type."
Tamsin's competence and dry humor gradually leads Simon to reveal bits of himself while still wearing the guise of Simple Simon, while his "light ruination," all under her direction, piques Tamsin's interest far more than she initially thought it would. And while their "fake ruination" plans do lead to some kissing, their relationship is based as much on their discovery of shared intellectual interests as it is on physical attraction. The previous story talked about the protagonists relating to one another as equals, but here we actually see two people interacting as equals, and appreciating both their similarities and their differences.
I've rarely read such a delightful take on the "fake engagement" trope.