Years ago, Saturday Night Live had a faux commercial for “Bad Idea Jeans.” The person wearing them would come up with an extraordinarily foolhardy scheme, like: “Sure, I hardly know the guy, but I have two kidneys and he needs one…” and then you’d hear the “Bad Idea Jeans” voice-over. This commercial popped into my head when I read the name of Dame Fortune’s hero, because I think the author may have been wearing a pair. The name is – prepare yourself – Fungy. I’ve been reviewing romances for seven years, and reading them for twelve, and I’ve never come across a name quite that bad. Bad Idea Jeans. And sadly, Fungy’s name is not the only thing wrong with this book.

Rose Grace is the vivacious daughter of a famous archeologist. She is actually the oldest of three sisters, who all happen to be named after the three graces (Rose is short for Euphrosyne). How fortunate that the Grace family had exactly three daughters; it would be a little awkward with just two graces, or four. But I digress. The family has just returned from Greece, and Rose needs to find a husband. She is unschooled in the ways of society, and doesn’t know basic rules like “Don’t aggressively bat your eyes at a stuffy duke” or “Don’t gamble away money you don’t have.” At her first party, Rose meets St. John Fotheringay-Phipps – a.k.a. Fungy. They have a conversation about Greek mythology, and Fungy finds the encounter enchanting. Rose, too, is moved by their exchange.

When Rose arrives home from the party, her father tells her that the family situation is dire. They truly need money just to pay for the expenses of the season, and Rose needs to be married with all possible haste. Rose is a little taken aback, but she goes upstairs and has a ridiculous conversation with her sisters. They decide, as a group, that Rose needs to marry a rich, handsome archaeologist. So far, Rose has only really met Fungy, who is not an archaeologist, but she resolves to find one immediately. The next night, two things happen. She meets a rich, handsome archaeologist (Lord Kirtland), and she is introduced to gambling. When Rose plays whist and wins thirty pounds, she decides that perhaps she may not need to marry after all – she can win all they need at cards. She pesters Lord Kirtland to take her to a card party, even though it’s not strictly proper. She’s dressed in a domino, though, so that makes it okay.

The rest of the book is basically an interplay between Rose, Fungy, and Lord Kirtland. Fungy keeps popping up and rescuing the idiotic Rose and her equally asinine sisters from disasters ranging from card party shenanigans to a near drowning. Fungy realizes that his life has become empty, that everyone thinks of him as a vapid dandy, and that marriage may be the answer. Meanwhile, Kirtland woos Rose, who thinks that the feelings of fear and confusion that she experiences around Kirtland are signs of love. Unfortunately, this stupid conclusion is pretty much consistent with Rose’s character. While this is all going on, Rose loses money to Kirtland, and Fungy is asked to help find the ringleader of a gambling ring. Yes, the leader is exactly who you think.

There’s more that goes on, including declarations of love and multiple proposals and engagements. But I won’t bore you with it. Suffice it to say that this book is rife with problems. Fungy’s name is just the tip of the iceberg, but it’s important. On what planet is that name sexy, or romantic? If you must use the name (for something other than a mushroom) stick with the lovable, goofy sidekick. No self-respecting man would let himself be known as Fungy. Toward the tale end of the book, Fungy himself finally comes to this same conclusion, and tells Rose to please call him “Sinjin.” Oddly enough, this presents its own problems, as Sinjin has a friend named Sin. And then half the people in the book just call him Fungy anyway. If you can get past the name (which is no mean feat) Fungy isn’t really all that bad. He’s a nice enough guy who got burned by love in the past. While he did take refuge in a dandified persona, at least he didn’t use his ill-fated romance as an excuse to be a jerk.

Unfortunately, Fungy falls for Rose. Maybe it’s just me, but TSTL heroines seem to be much rarer these days. When I first started reviewing, the genre was crawling with them. Now they don’t seem to be all that common, and it’s a development I can only applaud. Rose is old-school TSTL, the type who is supposed to be “spunky” or “spirited.” Basically she makes Lydia from Pride and Prejudice look mature and wise by comparison. Rose lacks all common sense, and her sisters are just as bad. Their basic stupidity is manifest in nearly everything they say and do. Their conversations are like nails on a chalkboard (the one where they decide that Rose will marry a rich archaeologist is particularly painful, but it’s hardly an isolated incident). The most telling examples of Rose’s limited brain power are related to gambling. Granted, this is something that lots of people get caught up in, but Rose’s naiveté is simply unbelievable. She plays cards and wins just one time, and thinks she has discovered this new secret way of money making. It never once occurs to her that people may cheat her, or that her lack of experience is a problem. In fact, she never really thinks about it at all; she just rushes right in, ready to lose a bunch of money she doesn’t have. Fungy’s sure going to have his hands full after their marriage.

Traditional Regencies are apparently on their way out, and there are relatively few of them left to be published. As a big fan of the sub-genre, I wish I could savor every last one. Instead, I think I’m likely to turn to older books to find new favorites. In any case, Dame Fortune, with its horribly named hero and TSTL heroine, is best left on the shelf.