Narrated by Cornell Collins

I’m always on the lookout for new m/m historicals, and Carina Press, who published the print edition of début author Annabelle Greene’s The Vicar and the Rake, has a pretty good track record when it comes to LGBTQ+ romance. When I saw that Cornell Collins would be narrating this title, I decided to listen rather than read which, in one way was a good decision, because his polished, accomplished narration was absolutely the best thing about it. In another way? Not so much, as even his expertise couldn’t disguise what is essentially a weak story with poorly defined characters, no romantic tension or chemistry, plot points that made no sense and a completely ridiculous ending.

Okay, so a quick resumé of the plot, such as it is. Reverend Sir Gabriel Winters decided to give up a life of luxury for that of a country vicar when he was younger, and along with his holy orders, turned his back on his secret desires and took a self-imposed vow of celibacy – which basically amounts to “God, I know I’m gay but I vow never to act upon it.” Gabriel pretty much grew up with his best friend, Edward Stanhope, now the Duke of Caddonfell, a man so visibly, arrogantly, dangerously libertine that his nickname, whispered from one end of England to the other, was simply Scandal. And: The terror of every mother in the ton, not for their daughters, but for their sons. The most infamous sodomite in London.

Now that, right there, on page one, is where the wheels start to fall off the wagon. I’m well aware there were men among the nobility who preferred the company of their own sex. But given that homosexuality was illegal in England until 1967, they had to be discreet about it – and while it may be true that a duke could do pretty much anything he liked and get away with it, I’m not certain that being openly queer was one of them. Murder, blackmail, embezzlement, fraud, violence – probably. Being gay? Doubtful. So the idea of Edward as an infamous sodomite just doesn’t ring true.

Anyway.

The book opens with Gabriel, in a raging fever, crawling his way to Hardcote House (the family home of the Stanhopes) – which is empty – and passing out in a flower bed. Fortunately for him, the place is to be unoccupied no longer; Edward has fled London to the one place he’s sworn never to come back to (Daddy issues, natch) following a rather serious faux pas. He was caught in flagrante with the son of the powerful Duke of Sussex, and the furious, outraged Duke has vowed revenge of the worst sort. Edward’s younger brother Maurice – who seems to have spent most of his life clearing up his brother’s messes – has told Edward he needs to get out of town and hide away while he – Maurice – can work out what to do next, because Sussex is out for blood and is not above hiring an assassin to dispose of Edward.

Upon finding his boyhood friend (and first love) feverish in the flower beds, Edward decides he can’t just leave him there – despite Maurice’s injunction to let NO ONE know where he is. Edward and his valet get Gabriel into the house and care for him overnight – and hey presto! By morning (and after some delirious snogging), he’s all better.

When Maurice arrives, he decides the best thing to do is to get some dirt on Sussex in order to get him to leave Edward alone, but that’s not going to be easy because Sussex is – or appears to be – one of the few aristocrats in the land who is squeaky clean.

Then – oh. Er. That’s about it in terms of the plot. For over half the book, we get Gabriel and Edward mooning over each other (and Gabriel reminding himself of his vow and then promptly breaking it), Maurice being grumpy and Gabriel’s sister being quietly rather awesome. Then, despite the fact that Edward is IN HIDING, a group of his friends – his fellow “Beasts” (the series title is The Society of Beasts) – turn up in support, having figured out that it’s the only place Edward could have gone… which begs the question, if they can find him, why can’t the Duke of Sussex? But with their arrival comes treachery and betrayal. And more plot-holes.

The two leads are barely two-dimensional, and although the story is told in alternating PoVs, neither has a distinct voice. And that impression isn’t helped by the fact that each chapter seems to be about five minutes long, so we’re switching back-and-forth, back-and-forth so often that it’s almost like being at Centre Court at Wimbledon. It was bad enough in audio – I can only imagine how irritating it would have been in print, with chapters lasting no longer than a few paragraphs! The real issue though is that they’re so short as to allow no time for the listener to get a handle on who these men are, and how they relate to each other.

The romance is non-existent. What we have here are two men we’re told were in love as boys, picking up pretty much where they left off, so there’s no romantic development or character progression whatsoever. Instead we get a lot of “sex by numbers”; 1. Snogging and groping – check. 2. Hand-jobs (one each) – check. 3. Blow-jobs (one each)– check. 4. Anal sex and then switching it up – check. Gabriel’s vow goes out the window early on – he instigates quite a few of the sexy-times, so I have no idea why he even bothered to make it in the first place, seeing as how it prevents him from indulging in sexual acts NOT AT ALL.

And then there’s the ending. Oh, dear, that ending.

As I said at the beginning, the only bright spot in this mess is Cornell Collins, without whom I would probably have consigned this audiobook to the scrap heap. It’s thanks to his vocal characterisations that I was able to tell the difference between Edward and Gabriel at all; as I said before, there is nothing individual about the way they are written and, something that was pointed out to me by an online friend who read the print version, there are very few dialogue tags in the story, so having a narrator actually differentiating the characters was a positive thing as it meant I could always tell who was speaking. The characters of Maurice and Lady Caroline (Gabriel’s sister) are far more interesting than the two leads, and I particularly liked Mr. Collins’ portrayal of the always exasperated Maurice. The rest of the secondary cast – Edward’s “Beastly” friends and the dastardly Sussex – are clearly delineated, the pacing is fine and Mr. Collins is reliably good in the more intimate moments and at injecting some sort of life and vibrancy into the characters and the story as a whole.

Ultimately however, if you want to listen to historical m/m with happy endings that are well thought-out and plausible – and simply superior in every way – listen to KJ Charles, Joanna Chambers or Cat Sebastian. The only good thing about the audiobook of The Vicar and the Rake is Cornell Collins’ expert performance – but even a narrator as talented as he is can’t weave a silk purse from this particular sow’s ear.