When we first meet Gabriel Renfrew, he’s leaving a tavern and giving in to a massive case of the “blue devils” as Gracie refers to it. He’s brooding over his lonesome return from the war and mourning for all the friends that didn’t come home. I set myself up for a full-fledged PTSD storyline with at least one or two scenes of illogical guilt. 

And then, oddly enough, our hero simply snaps out of it. For the rest of the novel, he’s fairly upbeat and mild-mannered, even cheerful. Not that I’m complaining. Anne Gracie does upbeat rather well.

Callie, or Princess Caroline of Zindaria, is a far more serious person, providing a nice balance to Gabe’s levity. She also has a few serious problems. To start, she’s running from a powerful man who’s trying to assassinate her 8-year-old son. And she’s escaping a life where she has always been treated like a brainless child. Oh, and her first husband was cruel and physically abusive. Let’s just say she has a few trust issues to work out. 

Despite the really far-out plot, Gracie brings these characters and their story to life. Even minor characters seem to have their own lives, and their presence in the story feels natural. I loved some of the little incidental scenes– Callie’s son Nicky meeting Jim, the orphaned son of a ne’er-do-well– Miss Tibby mourning the loss of her cottage and her books. 

Only a few things in the book did not work for me. (Spoilers under the cut)

The first problem is the reason why all of the characters go to London. I realized why the action had to move to London, but I really don’t understand the characters’ motivation for going there. The characters give a range of silly reasons for the trip, such as shopping or looking for employment for Tibby (which is already settled by the time they depart for London.) The real reason they have to go to London is that Gracie has painted herself into a corner in their original setting of Lulworth Cove. The villain has lost credibility with the local magistrate and is rendered almost powerless, and, having already had one of Gabe’s allies serendipitously drop in on his estate, it would stretch credibility even by romance standards to have the other three future heroes of the series as well as Gabe’s diplomat brother all come by for a visit. 

My second problem with the story is that Gabe seems just a little bit too nonchalant, particularly when Callie is really hard on him. He’s all too willing to overlook her glossing over the words love and obey in their wedding vows, even though she’s publicly humiliated him by refusing to say either word at the altar. He doesn’t deserve that sort of cruelty, and she never has to atone for it. And while I’m glad he wasn’t the uber-brooder I was expecting from chapter one, he seems a little too drama-free for someone who was rejected by both parents, scorned by his older siblings, and handed over to a well-meaning but emotionally unavailable aunt before fighting Napoleon and watching his childhood friends die. 

Last, I don’t quite get the easy acceptance both characters display in their decision to leave everyone they care about and go to Zindaria for Nicky’s sake. Sure, being prince is his birthright, but after being so unhappy there, it’s hard to believe that Callie and Nicky would want to return, even if there is a crown at stake. While I know that the characters are making the honorable decision in returning to Zindaria, I think the story would have benefitted by an epilogue showing them living happily there.

Maybe that scene will happen later in the series… I hope.

Overall Grade: A-

Loretta Chase’s as yet unreleased novel, Your Scandalous Ways, has been getting rave reviews on several websites, but it won’t be out until June. Since yours truly isn’t privileged enough to get an ARC, I’ve chosen to read one of her older series, featuring the Carsingtons. Because I ordered the books from several different libraries, they arrived out of order. 

I have no willpower. I picked up the first book that came in and started reading, caring little for author intent or continuing story arcs. Turns out that it didn’t much matter that Mr. Impossible is the second of four books; it works just fine as a stand alone. 

Actually, it very much is a stand-alone; the hero and heroine have both been separated from friends and family. Rupert Carsington, the black sheep of his family, has been seemingly exiled to Egypt by his father after one too many scrapes. Daphne Pembroke, a wealthy widow with a love of ancient languages, needs him to help her search for her kidnapped brother. So she buys Rupert as a traveling companion after he ends up in a Cairo jail for getting in the middle of the wrong fight. Yep, marches straight to the jail and bargains his captors down from 2000 GBP to a mere 20! She is quite the independent, intelligent Regency heroine. 

And by independent and intelligent, I mean actually, visibly smart and independent, unlike certain other romance heroines who require the narrator to frequently remind readers of their boldness and brilliance. Daphne is deeply devoted to her studies, so much so that after surviving a rotten marriage, she packs up and convinces her brother to accompany her to Egypt to further her studies. She’s not only bookish, though. She’s good at thinking on her feet and anticipating the consequences of her actions before she acts. She doesn’t get herself into ridiculous situations or prolong the trials and tribulations of true love through any aggravating displays of stubborn illogic. She’s no-nonsense, and utterly likable. 

As is Rupert. Cheerful, witty, kind and pretty much game for whatever fate throws in his way. He’s not completely without issues (his dad did ship him off to Egypt, after all,) but he’s refreshingly lacking in the Drama Queen department. 

Ultimately, one of the key selling points of this book, for me, was the setting. Egypt, 1821. Lots of Regency writers refer to the Egyptology craze as an aside in their firmly-based-in-England novels, but so few actually set their romances anywhere outside of the British Isles. I really enjoyed reading a Regency “road-trip” adventure set so far away from all that these characters were accustomed to back in England. 

Despite a few moments of clunky dialogue, the engaging characters and interesting setting make Mr Impossible a pleasant, fun-to-read novel. Rating: B

I’m not always a fan of Jo Beverley’s (although I adored Hazard and St. Raven.) I really haven’t liked a lot of the Malloren novels– even though I can’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe it’s the time period– Enlightenment England can be a less-than-romantic place, sometimes. Maybe it’s the characters themselves, or the pacing, which sometimes feels slow to me. Even so, when a Jo Beverley book comes out, I always read it because when I read a Beverley book that I like, it makes me want to reread everything she’s written to see if maybe I just missed the good parts in the books I disliked. 

Anyway, A Lady’s Secret, despite being a Malloren book, and despite being set in 1764, really worked for me on all levels. I loved Robin Fitzvitry, who is just itching to be distracted by anything that seems remotely entertaining, even if that something is a foul-mouthed nun. I loved that there was a real road trip adventure plot. I love the idea that both characters are lying about their identities– it’s so much more fun to read a novel where neither party is reduced to playing a clueless martyr. I’m a sucker for mistaken identity plots, but I’m turned off by novels where the hero/heroine continues to keep the truth from his/her lover long after doing so has become unreasonable, even borderline mental torture. On this same note, I was also happy to see that Beverley didn’t use the quick resolution of the outside threat to saddle her readers with a silly, tacked-on internal conflict, as often happens. These characters know what they want- each other- and they don’t let the little things (insanely jealous aristocrats, long-lost families, questionable bloodlines) get in their way. 

I did have a couple little quibbles with the novel, mainly involving the Malloren connections. I know that because they are all the heroes and heroines of other novels, they can’t have more than a whiff of badness about them, but the whole family’s instant acceptance of Petra as Rothgar’s natural daughter does strike me as a bit unbelievable. Wouldn’t at least one of them be a little shocked or resentful or snobbish, given the time period? I wouldn’t have minded just a touch more tension and conflict with this plotline. Also, the expositional dialogue between the Mallorens and Petra is sometimes annoyingly too intimate. I know that these moments- at dinner tables and such- are plot devices to remind readers of the series of each character’s story. Still, I find myself muttering, “Why are you telling a near stranger about your pet names for each other or the nasty twists and turns of your courtship?”  Or interrupting her to proclaim your family motto- in unison. It jars with the historical accuracy that seems prevalent throughout the rest of the book.

Overall, though, a very fun, very good romp.

Grade: B+