I was looking forward to this one. Really. Not only did it mean a break from her paranormal series, which I wasn’t particularly fond of – it also meant Ms. Jewel’s return to European historicals, the setting where she wrote such specimens of fabulosity as Scandal and The Spare. So you can imagine my disappointment that I can’t, in all honesty, recommend her latest.

It’s not bad – far from it. There’s plenty of good in her descriptive, distinctive prose. (I never thought I’d associate an orgasm with what you say to a dog chasing after a wooden stick, but when you think about it, “fetch” is strangely appropriate.) And a non-virgin heroine who’s not a widow, not a courtesan/prostitute, doesn’t have any sexual hang-ups, and yet whose non-virginity is perfectly believable? Double plus.

Another cause for a round of hallelujahs: A character-driven story with no spies crawling out of mouse holes. And for that, I really am grateful. It’s just Miss Lily Wellstone visiting her widowed friend and falling into an affair with her friend’s brother, the Duke of Mountjoy. (And like I said, the reasons for the affair aren’t anachronistic – I find them perfectly logical, and I’m usually sensitive to this sort of thing.) Neither feels they can pursue it any further, because she gave her heart to her late fiancé and he is almost engaged to a local lass. But they fall for each other nonetheless.

There’s also a great secondary character, Lily’s cousin the Earl of Fenris, who appears to be gunning after her inheritance. We don’t see much of him, but although I guessed his secret early on, it didn’t diminish the joy of seeing his character slowly revealed.

I’m just full of praise, aren’t I? So where did the C+ come from? Well, I’m really not interested in Mountjoy or Lily. First, there’s the slight problem of Mountjoy’s name: a) he doesn’t have a first name, and b) his name is Mountjoy, which presumably Lily screams out in the middle of sex, and which I find howlingly funny. (Apologies to anyone named Mountjoy, but really – if I were called Mountjoy, I’d rename myself Bob. Or Harold.) Second, I find Mountjoy a tad bland. He does a lot of mental lusting, but that’s about it.

Third, and more problematic, is Lily. She looks like an angel and copulates like a courtesan. She’s elegant, socially adept, cares for her friend, is filial to her ungrateful father, and is just an all-round merchant of grace. She also seems to have the upper hand in her relationship with Mountjoy – more often than not, we got his point of view, especially post-coitus, and who does all the analyzing and agonizing? Not the girl in this relationship. No, he cogitates and lusts, and the next time we see her, she’s off doing other things with other people and not thinking about Mountjoy.

This isn’t an intrinsic fault, but it tips Lily into the arena of perfection. And that’s just boring. She mentions, once or twice, her flaws, and the fact that she is not without them. Um, where? What flaws? I’d have been a lot more comfortable with this paragon if she burped during sex. Or became mottled with smelly sweat. Something. Anything will do.

I give points to Not Wicked Enough for not being generic (patronymic problems aside, I love the fact that Mountjoy has zero sartorial sense) and for some damn fine writing. But it just goes to show that sometimes, technique has nothing to do with content. And when push comes to shove, they both matter.