I can’t help sighing as I write this review: how I wish I had a terrific new Regency to recommend. Alas, this is yet another offering that will make you want to reach for one of your older comfort reads. The Spinster and the Wastrel is unfortunately a waste.

Annette Courtney is astonished when she inherits all the unentailed wealth of Sir Nigel Montfort. Her father was the town’s vicar before his death, and Annette delights in doing for others. Because she’s always been short on funds, she constantly nagged Sir Nigel for money. Now she has all she could want, and she can finally fulfill her dream of opening a school for the town’s poor children.

Sir Gerard, the new baronet, is less than thrilled. His uncle Nigel was always a big jerk, and he dreamed and planned for years about what he’d do as soon as Nigel bought the farm. Now Gerard has the title and all the responsibility that entails, but none of the money needed to fulfill that responsibility. And there’s another major problem: Gerard had a little too much fun when he found out his uncle was dead, and he incurred large gaming debts, borrowing from a money lender on the strength of his expected inheritance. Now the money-lender wants to be paid and has started making threats.

Gerard tries to threaten Annette and bully her into giving him the money. He tries to reason with her. He tries to talk to his uncle’s attorney. He thinks idly of marrying her, distasteful as it would be (she’s a do-gooder spinster after all). Annette’s not having any of it. She’s always wanted to have this school, and Nigel always said Gerard was a wastrel. Evidence seems to suggest that Nigel was right, but then Gerard is really handsome and charming, and Annette can’t help falling for him just a little. Meanwhile, Gerard finds himself inspired by Annette’s selfless ways, and he starts to fall in love with her, too.

Well, they both fall for each other, and the tumble has all the romance of a trip to the dry cleaner’s. We may all read romance for different reasons, but at heart we all appreciate characters we can fantasize about on some level – heroines we admire, and heroes we drool over. When a romance is missing the romance, there really isn’t much point. In this case, the hero is a lout. A good-looking lout, but a lout nonetheless. I’ve read and enjoyed books about men with money problems, and even books about compulsive gamblers. This one, however, features a jerk who overspent on one grand occasion and wants to swindle the saintly heroine out of the blunt so he can dazzle the ton and live the life he’s always dreamed about. Eventually, he realizes he loves her because she is so good. Not because she is a great conversationalist, or a whole lot of fun, or even because she’s attractive. This just doesn’t say “romance” to me.

The heroine is simply a saint with no actual personality. Her fondest dream is to run a school, but when she’s not worried about that she’s helping the poor or thinking about what repairs the tenants might need on their cottages. This isn’t a heroine – it’s a character named Perfect Goodness from a sixteenth-century morality play. When you come right down to it, the title is pretty appropriate; after all, the hero is a wastrel and the heroine is definitely a spinster. And it also sounds a whole lot more catchy than the equally appropriate “The Jackass and the Martyr.”

I also had a major problem with the debt/money-lender plot. In the first place, I found it hard to believe that a nobleman with a nice estate could be so easily threatened by a thug. But the actions of the money lender make no sense in the first place. Though his original agreement with Gerard allows Gerard to pay him in installments, the money lender changes his mind and calls in the whole loan, even though Gerard has already paid one installment (with Annette’s help). I would hardly consider myself the world’s best banking expert, but my understanding is that the whole point of loaning money to someone is to make money yourself on the interest as they pay the loan back. Unless the lender is in dire financial straits himself (and this one wasn’t), why would he call in a loan that has every promise of earning him money? Sir Gerard may not have inherited the bulk of the estate’s wealth, but he does have an income of quarterly rents paid by the tenants. I can’t imagine how this money-lender made anything in the first place.

Even if the plot of characters had been compelling, there were huge problems with the writing. It’s very choppy and unpolished, and nothing says “amateur” like a dangling participle. My personal favorite: “Although not pitch black inside, Sir Gerard’s face was obscured and his body a darker shade.” I’m assuming the author intended to describe the dim carriage she had discussed in an earlier sentence rather than the hero’s face. But really, this reads like the work of an enthusiastic high-school student.

Nothing gives me more pleasure than to recommend a great new Regency, but I can’t possibly recommend this book to anyone. The best I can do here is hope that Ms. Bergin’s work improves with time and practice.