Deep down, we all know that a title can make or break a book, and the thing about Lady Mistress that intrigued me was its title. I expected a story with an experienced heroine to rival all of those Regency rakes. But instead, Lady Mistress has a very standard heroine, and a hero so unlikable that I wanted to reach into the book and slap him.

Tressa Devlin, the daughter of an earl, lives with the knowledge that her father did not really kill himself, as is widely believed, but was instead murdered by her wicked uncle. Years later, she must support herself as a paid ladies’ companion, but when she sees the opportunity to escape from her uncle’s watchful eye, she jumps at the chance. Tressa moves into an empty house with her friend and fellow companion Doro, Doro’s well-born fiancé Robert, and Mudge, her loyal old protector.

Hannibal, the Marquess of Braxton, has caught wind of his cousin and heir Robert’s unusual living arrangement, in a house Braxton owns, no less. When he drops by, Robert further shocks him by announcing he plans to marry the low-born Doro. Braxton considers lower-class women acceptable for bedding, not wedding. To emphasize the point, he basically orders Tressa to sleep with him. Because of Tressa’s awful secret, she never plans to marry, because her uncle would then menace her husband. But she has always dreamed of having, just for a little while, her own special love affair to remember for the rest of her life.

Braxton initially treats Doro with cruelty, not wanting his heir to marry beneath his station, and in his spare time tries to order Tressa into his bed. While I found his behavior revolting, I couldn’t argue with the historical accuracy – the nobility considered lower-class women one of the perks of their station. But when Braxton pulls an abrupt about-face regarding Doro and Robert, for the sole purpose of snaring Tressa as his mistress, I decided that he was simply a bully who would do anything to get his own way and get falling-down drunk every time he didn’t (five times at last count). I couldn’t figure out what Tressa saw in him, aside from his good looks. We are told that she finds him kind and fair, which I’m still scratching my head over – I think those pages were missing from my book.

With Doro and Robert safely out of the way, Tressa agrees to become Braxton’s pampered mistress. Braxton is astonished to learn that Tressa is a gently-born virgin, and Tressa meets her new role of “lady mistress” with equal parts gusto and shame. Tressa gradually realizes that most mistresses aren’t as well-treated as she is, and she tries to help Ambrosia, a young mistress in over her head. Ambrosia is a mistress for financial reasons, and was the sort of unconventional heroine I was really hoping would be the mistress of the title.

Tressa is a fairly standard heroine distinguished by her love of independence. Still, she raised my ire in the final chapters, when she repeatedly lied to Braxton and cowed before her evil uncle. I believe I have amply stated my opinions on Braxton, the supposed hero – I found little about him to admire. This novel struck me as more of a lust story than a love story, with Tressa and Braxton spending much of their time together in bed, or on the floor, or the garden – you get the picture. I’m not ashamed to admit that the well-written sex scenes were my favorite part of the book. Still, even luscious sex doesn’t mean much when you don’t care about the people having it.

Lady Mistress was, despite its intriguing title, a disappointment for me. Its unlikable hero simply turned me off. For a more enjoyable romance about an accidental mistress, I recommend Amanda Quick’s Mistress; for a more realistic and engaging story about the major reasons women actually became mistresses, check Daniel Defoe’s classic Roxana out of your local library.