Last time, we learned from Johanna Lindsey that large families can be hilarious. So why not make an even larger family for even more hilarity? While this may sound implausible, as far as I can tell, Julia Quinn pulled it off with the Bridgertons, a family of eight alphabetically named siblings who all get their happily ever afters. I no longer recall exactly why I calculated it better to put the second book on my syllabus rather than the first, but here we are: The Viscount Who Loved Me, a.k.a. Bridgertons #2.
Book details:
Title: The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)
Author: Julia Quinn
Original publication date: 2000
Setting time & place: 1814 London
He is… a 29 year old English viscount with an over-developed sense of mortality and a sudden intention to marry.
She is… a 21 year old young lady from Somerset, possesed of great wit, but no fortune or great expectation of marriage.
Reasons to read this title: Julia Quinn is a powerhouse, and particularly known for her humor, so if you have any interest in Regencies, you should probably read this or others in the Bridgertons series.
My review of The Viscount Who Loved Me
Is it a romance novel? Yes. Two characters work through emotional turmoil and achieve an HEA.
Is it a must read romance novel?. Yes. Shonda Rhimes is adapting the Bridgertons series for Netflix, so you have until 2020 to read these books before people start losing their minds about it.
The Viscount Who Loved Me is actually a reread for me, and I have a number of notes from my first encounter with the book, including,
Okay, I do believe that this is the most peculiar compromise scene I have ever encountered. But let me read for another year or two and get back to you.
Two years later and the decisive midpoint moment which forces the hero and heroine into marriage is still one of the most eye-rolling things I’ve encountered in Romancelandia. I’m pretty sure my initial thoughts were also along the lines of “this is why people laugh at romances.” I can’t even coherently explain the scene because a) it would be spoilers, and b) it only works because of the character development laid earlier in the book. But I still rolled my eyes and skimmed it this time around.
The strength of this book, as it should be, is in the banter and the relationship between the two main characters. They’re crafted with a lot of parallels: two strong minded elder siblings who feel pressure to support and be strong for their families. Both have lost parents, both have developed phobias as a result. Both value their family members highly, but do not idealize them — there’s lots of teasing and ribbing between everyone. And, as ridiculously as it plays out in the middle, the setup of each character and their respective phobias plays very well. Following the assumption that each partner needs something from the other to fill in what is missing in their life, these two characters fit together perfectly.
I can also see a number of places where Quinn tells the reader exactly what is going to happen. It’s foreshadowing, and it’s also a hint to the reader about what tropes the book will be following. For our heroine, we learn exactly how she’ll meet her future husband.
“Perhaps one of your lovesick suitors will turn to me once he realizes you are unattainable,” she teased.
Edwina swatted her with a pillow. “Don’t be silly.”
“But I’m not!” Kate protested. And she wasn’t. Quite frankly, this seemed to her the most likely avenue by which she might actually find a husband in town.
Our hero also correctly predicts his future, planning to meet Kate’s sister.
And since Anthony was used to getting what he wanted, he had no doubt that he would find an attractive, intelligent woman with whom he would never fall in love.
And, like many romance heroes, he assumes that he’ll maintain control of his emotions.
All he had to do was make certain he didn’t actually fall in love with her. Which shouldn’t prove impossible, right?
I use Goodreads to track quotes and notes on my reading, and for this book I noticed that I could see a few other people’s notes that they have made public. For this quote, some other reader annotated,
Do you know you’re in a romance novel Anthony?
He’s definitely in a romance novel, and reading it right after coming off the old skool train…I can see echoes of the old skool in this book. Mainly in the lack of consent. The witty banter is fun and our heroine, Kate, is a spitfire. Their relationship is very physical from the beginning, when she steps on his toes apurpose while dancing, and there’s almost a Taming of the Shrew vibe going on, when we get lines like this from the hero:
Normally, Anthony would die before striking a woman, but this truly seemed to be an exceptional case. In fact, he took not a little bit of pleasure in kicking her while she was down. She was biting his leg, after all.
(Taming of the Shrew is my problematic fave, but I have no idea if Quinn have it in mind when she named the heroine Kate.)
So they both like it on the rough side, and that’s fine. I’m not here intending to yuck anyone’s yum. But what bothered me was that, like Georgina in Gentle Rogue, Kate is portrayed as mentally unaware of her physical desire for Anthony. He, of course, can tell from the look in her eyes when he gets close that she wants him. It’s part of his Rake Powers. But he deliberately uses this to unsettle her several times.
He planted one hand against the tree trunk, rather close to her face, and leaned forward. Kate suddenly felt trapped, even though it would be easy enough to dart away.
And when they kiss, it’s something that he initiates without warning or so much as a by-your-leave.
“No,” he drawled, “I brought you here to do this.” And then, before she had a chance to utter a word, before she even had a chance to draw breath, his mouth swooped down and captured hers in a hungry, searing kiss. His lips were voracious, taking everything she had to give and then demanding even more.
Since he’s the initiator and she’s disconnected, it leaves her rather without agency in the moments of sexytimes. And having the heroine experience sexytimes as an out-of-body experience….it seems less than ideal to me, reading in 2019. Take this passage, where things are happening to her body without her control.
Kate felt herself sliding into him. Her skin was starting to burn, and her traitorous arms stole up and around his neck. He was stoking a fire in her, something she could not even begin to control. She’d been possessed by some primitive urge, something hot and molten which needed nothing so much as the touch of his skin against hers.
If that’s not enough, here’s the wedding night, which reminded me rather a bit of Whitney, My Love.
He fitted himself against her opening, using his arms to brace his body a few inches above hers. He whispered her name, and her dark eyes, hazed by passion, focused on his. “I’m going to make you mine now,” he said, inching forward as he spoke.
I could really do without dudes marking their territory by penis. I really could. But overall, I can see why people like The Viscount Who Loved Me. The croquet game is A+. The corgi-related hijinks are lovely. And while the characters come to an understanding, they don’t compromise their personalities by falling in love, which is definitely a step up from the old skool books. But lines like this?
“You’ve never seen a naked man before, have you?” he murmured.
She shook her head.
“Good.” He leaned forward and plucked one of her slippers from her foot. “You’ll never see another.”
This is me rolling my eyes again.
