Sylvester, by Georgette Heyer
A mid-range Heyer, not as funny as Sprig Muslin or as intricate and emotionally satisfying as Cotillion, but that's probably a matter of opinion as everyone seems to have their favorites. I did enjoy this one quite a lot for its brilliant character portrait of Sylvester himself, its lively supporting cast, and best of all, the heroine's secret.
Sylvester is a handsome duke, although his upswept eyebrows can lend him a sinister air. (Before all you non-Heyer converts stop reading right here, let me explain that these eyebrows of his are actually a plot point. Be patient.) He's polite, loves his mother, treats his servants well, and has been eaten alive by his persona of The Perfect Gentleman. But he hasn't noticed, and no one can quite bring themselves to tell him that he's arrogant and smug and insufferable and seems to have buried his heart in his twin brother's grave, because it's all so subtle and hard to pin down. And he is, after all, a perfect gentleman.
But Sylvester is heading for a collision course with Phoebe, a young woman who met him once upon her lackluster coming-out, was struck by his eyebrows and air of entitlement, and wrote him into a Gothic roman a clef as Count Ugolino, the villain of the piece who has dark designs upon his angelic young ward. Little does she know that Sylvester actually does have a ward, his deceased brother's young son. But by the time Phoebe and Sylvester's lives have become thoroughly entangled, the book has already gone to press, complete with snarky portraits of all the society folk she's now going to have to see again...
Quite apart from the amusing correspondance to my own upcoming publication, this is was a good read. Sparks definitely fly between Phoebe and Sylvester, and one predicts a tempestuous and quarrelsome, but probably quite happy marriage. And everything involving Phoebe's book is fascinating, both as a historical document and, in terms of the plot, a slow-motion car wreck.
Sylvester is back in print. Check the romance section of any bookstore.
Sylvester is a handsome duke, although his upswept eyebrows can lend him a sinister air. (Before all you non-Heyer converts stop reading right here, let me explain that these eyebrows of his are actually a plot point. Be patient.) He's polite, loves his mother, treats his servants well, and has been eaten alive by his persona of The Perfect Gentleman. But he hasn't noticed, and no one can quite bring themselves to tell him that he's arrogant and smug and insufferable and seems to have buried his heart in his twin brother's grave, because it's all so subtle and hard to pin down. And he is, after all, a perfect gentleman.
But Sylvester is heading for a collision course with Phoebe, a young woman who met him once upon her lackluster coming-out, was struck by his eyebrows and air of entitlement, and wrote him into a Gothic roman a clef as Count Ugolino, the villain of the piece who has dark designs upon his angelic young ward. Little does she know that Sylvester actually does have a ward, his deceased brother's young son. But by the time Phoebe and Sylvester's lives have become thoroughly entangled, the book has already gone to press, complete with snarky portraits of all the society folk she's now going to have to see again...
Quite apart from the amusing correspondance to my own upcoming publication, this is was a good read. Sparks definitely fly between Phoebe and Sylvester, and one predicts a tempestuous and quarrelsome, but probably quite happy marriage. And everything involving Phoebe's book is fascinating, both as a historical document and, in terms of the plot, a slow-motion car wreck.
Sylvester is back in print. Check the romance section of any bookstore.