Grade: B-

I’m all about complete dickwads in romance novels going through a redemption arc and finding a happily ever after of their own provided that there’s lots and lots of groveling. Lots. We’re talking complete and utter humiliation, especially if he treated the heroine like utter shit. The “scoundrel” in question in this book isn’t a brooding, misunderstood loner who only keeps the companies of whores and other miscreants (sequel bait!) because of some tragic event; he’s an image-conscious, superficial, really cruel male Heather who is utterly and 100% lacking of any redeeming qualities for no solid reason. He was the guy in high school who noticed if your jeans are hanging a little high and pointed it out to everyone so they could all make fun of you for it. In this book, he basically throws the heroine to the wolves by making fun of her, saying the meanest things to her, and encouraging others to join in the good times. On top of that, he rapes her. That’s right, he rapes her. All the groveling and wooing and begging in the world shouldn’t have made it okay, but he does it ever so prettily that you just have to forgive him a little each time. Too bad that the heroine is a spineless, pathetic bimbo who pretty much throws herself at him the second he shows up at her doorstep. She should have made him suffer, tormented him at least half as much as he torments her, humiliated him… I don’t know. Am I projecting again? Damn it!

Our heroine Jane Wentworth is your average, cardboard “I’m not as pretty as much sister, but won’t somebody love me” pathetic dishrag who pisses me off from page one. She whines about being ugly, whines about no one paying attention to her, whines about her stupid freckles, yet she does nothing about any of it. No, Jane prefers to play the martyred sister who would be bitter and jealous happy if her much more beautiful, much more interesting, and much more colorful step-sister, Clarissa, were to find her true love and live happily ever after. It’s one thing if Jane were content standing in Clarissa’s shadow, but she would rather despair some more about how plain she is and how Quentin Sommerville will never pay attention to her. You’d think she, desperately in love with Quentin as she is, would have done something to get the guy to even look at her, but she won’t even fix herself up, preferring to attach herself gloomily to her beautiful step-sister’s side like a creepy hanger-on. Jane moons over Quentin like a thirteen year old girl and fantasizes about kissing him. Her opportunity comes in the form of a masquerade ball–don’t they always–and Clarissa, who is too sick to attend the ball, persuades Jane to wear her costume, pretend to be her, and seduce Quentin into giving her a kiss. As Clarissa, she can finally see what’s it like to be the Belle of the Ball and have everyone worship her beauty. Too bad that no one told them that it’s the worst idea ever. And that Quentin is actually in love with Clarissa.

Quentin, the semi-villain (oops, spoiler!) and the dastardly scheming asshole brother of Nicholas Sommerville in For All Eternity, is a bitter, jealous dickhead. He whines about being the second son, whines about his parents loving his older brother more (well, duh!), whines about being rich enough to catch the eye of the most beautiful girl of the Season, whines about–wait a minute… second verse, same as the first! He is selfish, superficial, and borderline psychotic in his obsession and hatred that his brother Nicholas had the luck to be born first. Not that Quentin would have cared about the responsibility that comes along with being the heir–his estates are in shambles–but he would have certainly liked the money and the prestige and all the other good stuff. Quentin prides himself in his appearance and reputation, which is why he thinks Clarissa, the Toast of the Season, would make the perfect bride. He’s “in love” with her, but he’s really more enamored of the idea of Clarissa holding on to his arm as his wife. He even pretends to be nice to Clarissa’s “bran-faced” step-sister and makes it a point to talk to her, even if she bores the hell out of him, thinking it would score him some points with Clarissa. Though he’s confident that he’s better-looking than all of Clarissa’s suitors put together, he realizes that Clarissa may not marry him because he’s poor and has no title. Out of desperation, Quentin schemes with a friend to trap Clarissa in a compromising position with Quentin so that she would be forced to marry him. On the night of the masquerade ball, Quentin will lure Clarissa into the garden, seduce her into her making out with him, then his friend will happen to walk by with the worst gossips of the ton, and Clarissa will have no choice but to accept Quentin’s suit.

It’s a fiendish, slimy, yet clever little plan that should have worked… only when Quentin lifts the mask, it is Jane that he finds underneath… with stockings stuffed in her bodice to pad up her sadly lacking bosom. Charming, considerate guy that he is, Quentin deserts Jane while his asshole friends make fun of her and hides out in his apartment until his daddy comes after him, drags him to Jane’s dad, and makes Quentin ask for Jane’s hand in marriage (he threatens to cut off Quentin’s allowance). Quentin retaliates by raping Jane on their wedding night and sending her off to his dilapidated estate in the country. Too bad that he signed a contract that says Jane will have full control of her dowry until she’s convinced that he’s good and ready to be a proper husband. Dumb ass. That’s why you gotta read shit before you sign it, Quentin!

What happens when you dump a defeated, maltreated, yet “plucky” heroine in an estate and village that is impoverished and full of happy folks that are down on their luck in a Disneyfied way? Come on now, you know the answer to that. Well, even if you’ve never read a romance novel umm… ever… you know exactly what happens next. She takes a portion of her dowry, rebuilds the estate, restores the villagers’ faith in themselves, brings sunshine and rainbow to their lives, and even flushes out the evil, scheming estate manager who has been stealing with Quentin all this time! Surely Quentin will love her now! Not that she cares or anything. SHE HATES HIM! HE KILLED HER DREAM! So what does she do when Quentin unexpectedly shows up (bitter, angry, drunk, suspicious) a few months later? She yells at him, tells him to get out, calls him all sorts of names… for about five minutes. Then Quentin collapses from the pain of passing gall stones (convenient!), prompting Jane to nurse him back to health, and all of a sudden, she’s mooning and yearning for his no-good, ignorant, arrogant ass again. Sucker.

For the first quarter of the book, I couldn’t stand Jane. She’s a self-pitying loser and does nothing to improve her lot in the life. I couldn’t stand to read about how in love she is with Quentin when Quentin only had eyes for Clarissa. Every time Quentin even looked at her or said a word to her, Jane would think that Quentin must finally be noticing her and gets her hopes up… I mean, it was just painful to read. The best thing that happens to her is Quentin dumping her ass in the country. This is a section of the book I really liked. I enjoy reading about heroines who discover what they’re good at and do it against adversity. Jane really comes into her own here, finding out that she’s a damn good estate manager as well as counselor of sorts for the local people. I was a little annoyed that it comes a little too easily to her–she was raised in a vicarage–but here we see her evolving as a character and really finding herself. This doesn’t last, of course, because before long, Quentin’s drunken, arrogant ass is knocking on the newly refurbished estate door, outraged that Jane would dare change anything about the village that he left in ruins and corruption! Thankfully, Quentin realizes what a complete nodcock he is when it comes to practical living and discovers that there is much more to Jane than he initially thought (umm… duh?). He begins to watch Jane do her thing, learns from her, and eventually realizes that he has fallen in love with her (again, duh).

I enjoyed reading about Quentin slowly realizing that he’s utterly useless as a human being and pushes himself to learn how a real man. Once he discovers that he really doesn’t know jack shit, he accepts it and forces himself to shake off his lordly airs as well as his initial prejudice about the common folk. He teaches himself about farming, doesn’t hesitate to ask questions about the crap he doesn’t know about, and even gets down and dirty with the hard work to be done in the village. He also realizes how badly he treated Jane and works extremely hard to win her over, learning what she likes, what she dreams about, and what she wants in life. He woos her, courts her, gives her present after present. Too bad that he doesn’t have to work that hard. The second he starts smiling at her, Jane completely forgives him and totally forgets all the awful shit that he did to her. I think this book would have had a deeper emotional resonance if we had seen how angry and hurt Jane was at Quentin’s initial treatment of her and made him suffer for it. I do like, however, that they become friends and learn to trust each other first before they jump into the intimacies. I think if Cullman had jumped the gun a little too early on that, it definitely wouldn’t have worked. I didn’t like the fact that she brushed over the whole rape thing, though. Jane should have been more wary and cautious of Quentin’s motives because of what he did to her; as it is, she just seems like this pathetic little dishrag starving for his attention. It was just really contradictory to the Jane we meet in the second quarter of the book. All I’m saying is that she should have kicked him in the nuts, locked him up in a dungeon, and fed him nothing but bread and water for two weeks for what he did to her. I bet he would have welcomed it.

Aside from the big, nasty scene between Quentin and Jane in the beginning of the book, the rest of it is pretty pleasant and free of big misunderstandings and other stupid plot devices like that. Quentin and Jane get to know each other, hang out, talk… it’s really nice. It gets a little saggy in the middle because everyone is being so nice to each other–I gotta have some drama–but the last few pages of the book gave me the melodrama that I needed and I was almost sorry that I asked for it. It’s trite, painful to read, and a little gag-worthy.

Like I said in the beginning, Quentin is a GIANT jackhole in the beginning and almost unbearable–made me wonder why Jane was so in love with him–but stick with him till the middle and he’ll turn into the sweetest, most charming guy ever. I was a little taken back by his quick transformation–even suspicious of it at first–but he slowly and steadily convinces me that he’s for real. Jane is pathetic at first, but she gives a good show in the middle, and for some inexplicable reason, turns back into a quivering mass of goo who’ll throw herself at Quentin’s feet if he so much as looked at her (wtf!). The development of their relationship is nice, if a little boring, but the book becomes a pleasant, smooth read once you get past all the drama in the beginning. Just like Heather Cullman’s other books, this is a nice, fluffy read with no real substance to offer, but I had a good time reading it. Check it if you’re looking for a little wallflower historical to read on a weekend.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 31st, 2006 at 11:11 pm and is filed under Books, Grade: B, Romance: Historical. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.