This past summer has brought a favorite aphorism of mine to mind: “Just because you can get it on, doesn’t mean it fits.” Another dictum on that theme might be: “Just because you can string some sentences together doesn’t make you a writer.” Lord Nick’s Folly is proof of that. It is a terrible book, one that supports all the derogative comments romances have thrown at them. The book is nonsensical and the poorly developed characters are both boring and asinine.

Miss Nympha Herbert (no, her distinctive name is never explained) is one of the local vicar’s six children. When she is asked to stay with her great-aunt, a wealthy Cit who lives in Nottinghamshire, she immediately wonders if it will be possible to meet any eligible men. Her family is poor and the one man she had her eye on, Lord Stanhope, married another the previous year. After reconfiguring a dress to resemble the latest plates in La Belle Assemblee, she heads off in the luxurious coach her aunt has sent for her.

Meanwhile, Lord Nicholas Stanhope, Lord Stanhope’s younger brother, is overseeing work on the new golf course ­ his folly ­ that is his obsession. A murdered man is found on the seventh hole, but no-one knows who he is. When a clue points to Nottinghamshire, Lord Nicholas decides to take himself there to find out who the mystery dead man might be. While on the way, he falls in with Nympha, whose coach has been in an accident. They also meet up with Mr. Milburn, a stranger who has been staying in Nicholas and Nympha’s town and is also (coincidentally) on his way to Nottinghamshire.

Even though they begin to feel their mutual atraction as soon as they meet, Nympha and Nicholas are constantly questioning it. She has always disliked him because he was not his brother; he has always been aware that she disliked him, but couldn’t quite figure out why. The mere fact of their sharing space seems to make the sparks fly, since it’s not clear, even at the end of the book, what their respective personalities are like, although one clue might be that she smells like lavender and he is fond of the scent. And, even though they have several risqué encounters, Nympha still wonders what his feelings are towards her and he worries that she won’t accept his offer. Duh! Wake up and smell the lavender! The only thing we know for sure about these two is that his kisses make her weak and all he wants to do is kiss her.

All that aside, if the internal dialogue conducted by both hero and heroine weren’t so asinine, it might be possible to overlook the superficial plot devices and formulaic characterization. But there is no relief in sight; Nympha’s thought processes are about as easy to understand as particle physics. Nicholas doesn’t even have the charm of a scattered brain – he is a broad-shouldered widgeon whose only distinct characteristic is his love for a certain sport and a natural curiosity about a murder committed on his property.

Eventually, of course, they are able to express their love, the murder is sort of solved and Nick is able to go back to his golf obsession, bride in tow. What isn’t clear is why these two are at all interesting, why their story is compelling, and why anyone who doesn’t have to (like me) would stay to the end. It’s clear that Hendrickson knows more about the Regency period than Prinny himself, but unfortunately, research does not a good story make.