There are lots of different elements in this book: mistaken identity, road romance, suspense, political intrigue, and family secrets. They all work pretty well, and the book would’ve been a real winner for me if the hero had been drawn as strongly as the heroine. As it is, I can still recommend it with very few reservations.

When Sir Allistair Holcomb receives a letter from a Miss Cordelia Barrington informing him that his only son William sired a child before he was murdered, the old gent is skeptical: to the best of his knowledge, William died a bachelor. So Sir Allistair dispatches his nephew (and heir presumptive) Major Mitchell Holcomb down to Sussex to investigate this outlandish claim. Mitchell sees his mission as putting this Miss Barrington, doubtless nothing more than an opportunistic con artist, in her place. Arriving at the cottage where she’d written her letter, Mitchell finds no sign of a baby, but he’s greeted by an old gypsy who slips him a sleeping potion. When he wakes up, she’s gone, and in her place is a lovely young woman, another gypsy, by the looks of her. But before he can get to the bottom of things they’re attacked by a couple of thugs. Mitchell and the gypsy, who calls herself Dee, set off for safety and soon find themselves stranded outdoors in the pouring rain, hiding out and waiting for a chance to give their pursuers the slip.

Delia Barrington has been in hiding with her late friend Maria’s mother ever since Maria’s husband William was killed in Delia’s London kitchen – and Delia witnessed the crime. She’s desperate to get William and Maria’s son to his paternal grandfather, and is dismayed to learn that Sir Allistair has sent the formidable Major Holcomb to investigate: what if he only wants to get rid of the child to solidify his inheritance? When they’re attacked in the cottage, Delia just knows it has something to do with William and what he was up to before his death. She gratefully accepts Mitchell’s offer of sanctuary at his country home, picturing a small, modest house. Imagine her surprise when they arrive at a grand manor, where a house party is getting underway. Surely one of the guests will recognize her, and Mitchell will discover her true identity. If only she’d come clean with him when she’d had the chance; now he’ll never respect her, and the growing attraction between them will come to naught.

I liked Delia – a lot. Very far from TSTL, she’s a good example of an ordinary person who finds herself in extraordinary circumstances, and she rises to the occasion. When Mitchell forces her to face her worst fear (her inability to swim), she realizes it’s swim or die, so she swims, without complaints or whining. She definitely passes what my colleague Marianne Stillings refers to as the “reasonable person” test, and never descends into the despised realms of “feistiness.” As for Mitchell, I had a harder time warming up to him. Yes, he was competent; yes, he was reasonable; but he never really jumped off the page at me the way Delia did, despite all the time devoted to his point of view. Maybe if he’d had a more memorable flaw or two, he might have come more to life for me. It was like he was standing in the shadows, with the light only partly illuminating him – I liked what I saw. I only wish I had seen more.

The secondary characters are pretty good. I liked the old gypsy (Maria’s mother) and Mitchell’s mother, and the two buffoons sent to chase Delia managed to be amusing and threatening at the same time. The suspense element (just what was William up to that he was killed for it, anyway?) was effective, but I have to say I spotted the villain before he even appeared on the page, so that part of the story fell a little flat for me. The sexual tension worked nicely; as a matter of fact, there’s a scene where the two fugitives are forced to spend the night together in a barn, with only a couple of blankets between them, and I almost wished for a little more “cha-cha” there, if you know what I mean.

There’s a lot more to this book than its just being a “novel of manners,” which is how I think of traditional Regencies. Something tells me that Ms. Kirkland may be ready for the jump to full-blown historicals, if she chooses to make that move. It’d be a loss to the Regency sub-genre, though. If you’re in the mood for a non-feisty, reasonable, and courageous heroine, Delia Barrington may be what you’re looking for.