Sign a book isn’t really working for you: Part way through, the heroine challenges the hero to a duel. You think, “Maybe one of them will die! I hope it’s her.” Usually, that’s not quite the reaction the author is aiming for. But then I can’t really say this book was the type of read I was aiming for either. Since the title harkens back to the late 80s Bill and Ted days, perhaps my expectations should not have been so high.

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The book starts with the titular heroine heading off to France with her brother Robert and Michael Ashford, Earl of Trenton. Ashford works for the foreign office and is going to investigate charges that Alexandra’s brother has turned traitor. Alex believes William is innocent, and is predisposed to dislike Ashford, whom she perceives to be the enemy. Alex is also dressed as a man. This is because her fighting skills – particularly her fencing – are vastly superior to Robert’s. So she pretends to be a man, shrouding her face with a scarf and cloak because of a “disfigurement.” They set off on their merry way, first by ship and then on horseback. Along the way, Alexandra’s true gender is evident to other innocent bystanders, but not to Ashford (who believes at times that he may be experiencing a confusing same-gender attraction.) Eventually, Ashford sees Alexandra with her hair down, dressed like a woman. Finally, he gets it.

We then begin the second section of the book, wherein Ashford courts Alexandra – sort of – while she insists that she doesn’t want to marry anyone (but probably wouldn’t be above a roll in the hay). This part includes the aforementioned duel scene, which happens because Ashford and Alex are caught in a compromising position and she won’t accept his honorable proposal. She arrogantly assumes she can beat him, but ends up being wrong. They end up sort of engaged, at which point they continue on to Paris to determine William’s innocence at a ball. Hijinks ensue. Then they all go back to England, where Alex must decide whether she really wants to live her fabulous spinster lifestyle, or marry the handsome earl she’s in love with. This decision is complicated by a new (to her, but not to most romance readers) inner struggle: Alex is afraid to love because of the pain Ashford’s eventual, inevitable death would cause.

As you may have guessed, this is not the novel for you if you prefer hard-hitting realism. Or any type of realism, really. We are, in fact, supposed to believe that the noble born heroine owns only two dresses. She always dresses like a man, and this bothers no one. (It’s set 1815ish, by the way.) We are also supposed to believe that neither her father nor the foreign office has a problem with an untrained woman taking off willy-nilly for spying adventures in Paris. Why does this make so much more sense when Lauren Willig does it? With this book, I just kept thinking that Historically Inaccurate Things were Afoot at the Circle K.

The good news is that the book actually gets better as it goes along. The bad news is that it starts so poorly that it has nowhere to go but up. I did eventually gain some sympathy for Alexandra, even if I found her actions and thoughts unbelieveable. And I always liked Ashford well enough (though I wasn’t really sure what he saw in Alex). The story didn’t really get any more believable, but somehow I moved past that a little.

Aside from the believability issues, the main problem with the book is that so many authors have tackled similar premises and done a much better job. Lauren Willig’s Napoleonic, flower-named spies are just one example. The weightier issue is Alexandra’s perception of her femininity and the obstacles facing a woman with interests that are traditionally masculine. There’s a difference between being cognizant of your talents and the injustice of the world you live in, and being blissfully unaware that you live in 1815 rather than 1995. Alexandra simply doesn’t understand her current social mores, and that just makes her seem dumb. Contrast that with Jo March wishing she could head off to Harvard with Laurie. Or more recently, Tessa Dare’s Minerva in A Week to Be Wicked, passionate about geology and longing to be taken seriously as a scholar. It suggests that like Alexandra, the author is uneducated about nineteenth century life.

Granted, we’re not all looking for the same thing when we read an historical romance. Despite my criticism of Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure, I am not always a stickler for accuracy. I’ve read and enjoyed other books of the wallpaper variety, but this one just pushed it a bit too far for my taste. If you have a higher tolerance for a woman who dresses, fences, shoots, and talks like a man – but makes love like a woman! – you may fare better.