I like Georgette Heyer’s Regency romances but this was the strangest of all her books. Until the last ten pages there was no romance at all. No sparks anywhere.
Set in the Regency era, this is the story of Viscount Desford, who befriends a poor girl, Miss Charity Steane, who runs away from her aunt's household where she is treated like a servant. (Think Cinderella.) Charity wants to find her grandfather but, alas, he is a curmudgeon and not likely to take her in. Meanwhile, she meets Desford takes pity on her when he discovers her along the road to London. He takes her to London and to the home of his childhood friend, Henrietta.
While Charity (who likes to be called Cherry) is endearing
herself into Henrietta’s mother’s good graces, Desford is jaunting about the
countryside looking for Charity’s grandfather.
Yes, it was true Desmond’s parents were enamored with Henrietta, but I sensed no love match between her and Desford. In fact, they even told us so. Charity was far more interesting until Henrietta started finding fault with her, describing her as not being bookish (which I took to mean she was not very intelligent). Except for Charity, they were all snobs from what I could see.
When Desmond declares his love for Henrietta, saying he’s
always loved her, it came across as unbelievable. We never saw it.
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