Lord of Scoundrels, by Loretta Chase (review)

When Sabrina Jeffries was asked to name her favourite book last Sunday in Ottawa, she mentioned Lord of Scoundrels as her favourite historical romance. Back in 2008, when I was new to romance and asked for recommendations, I was told Loretta Chase was considered “the modern Jane Austen”. Being a huge fan of Ms. Austen, I diligently picked up Miss Wonderful, the first novel of hers I found. Alas, I was rather disappointed. I could see the effort the author had made to be original and depart from cliched plots like Tracy Anne Warren‘s, what with her crippled, dandy hero and practical, inelegant heroine. It wasn’t a bad story, or badly written by any means, yet I failed to recognize anything great about it, either.

Although I later reasoned that Miss Wonderful might have suffered from being the first romance novel I ever read, it took me three years to give Loretta Chase another chance. Knowing better, namely that even my favourite romance authors write a bad book once in a while, I decided not to take any chance this time and go for the book that had built Ms. Chase’s popularity some 16 years back: Lord of Scoundrels. So maybe Miss Wonderful simply wasn’t her best work; Lord of Scoundrels, on the other hand, is unanimously celebrated. I have such consensual tastes that I thought I couldn’t go wrong.

Well, err. I’m sorry. I actually feel bad for not being transported by Lord of Scoundrels. Maybe something’s wrong with me? The truth is, I didn’t dislike it. I thought it was okay. But “okay”, you know. By no means amazing or delightful or fascinating or gripping or extraordinary. God, what is wrong with me??

Lord of Scoundrels is a strange romance. It doesn’t fit in my perception of the genre. At least I have to recognize that Chase seems like one of a kind as far as romance writers go. This book of hers felt old school, but not Johanna Lindsey or Kathleen E. Woodiwiss old school. More like Georgette Heyer old school, except more sensual. And here I have to confess to reading only one Heyer book, and not liking it overmuch, either―it was The Grand Sophy, another “classic”.

“In my dictionary, romance is not maudlin, treacly sentiment,” she said. “It is a curry, spiced with excitement and humor and a healthy dollop of cynicism.” She lowered her lashes. “I think you will eventually make a fine curry, Dain―with a few minor seasoning adjustments.”

- Lord of Scoundrels, Loretta Chase (Avon, 1994)

Miss Jessica Trent, Lord of Scoundrels‘ heroine, reminded me of Sophy: bold, pragmatic, skilled in manly arts, strong-willed and beautiful. Men drop at her feet like dead flies, but she’s too picky and eccentric to be interested in any of them. Can I just hijack this review for a bit and rant about how much I hate this type of heroine? They’re just too good to be true, you know. In my last review, I expressed some discomfort with heroines who were very forceful, successful and had a spine of steel. However, as it turned out, Krentz’s Juliana became lovable because she also knew all the problems this kind of temperament implied. She consistently scares men off, and her oddities are at least as hilarious as they are endearing.

Jessica is not that. She’s the girl who always lands on her feet, who always finds her way around, who always wins. The only reason why there is any kind of tension in Lord of Scoundrels as to whether she will eventually triumph or not, is that the hero is pure jackass material. It’s funny because I recently reviewed an amateur romance story, and one of my main negative points was: the heroine is too good, the hero is too difficult, they’re just fighting all the time over nothing. Granted, there must be a conflict between the two main characters; it is one of modern romance’s codes. But if I go along Sabrina Jeffries’ advice, then the conflict in Lord of Scoundrels is entirely internal. And that’s a problem.

There is absolutely no circumstance that justifies them being cross or suspicious of one another. There is no objective taboo, proscription, or obstacle stopping them from liking each other. There is only Jessica’s pride and Dain’s sexist, obstinate view of women. And since Jessica immediately, blatantly, obviously defies all that he used to believe about women and particularly ladies, the only reason he’s got left for behaving the way he does is that he is a jerk. A traumatized jerk, sure. He’s had the worst childhood, bla bla, bla bla. Of course. So he takes it all out on the first incomparable woman he meets.

That’s silly. I mean, it’s not silly to root their internal conflict in their past experiences; that’s what all romance authors do, as they should. But it’s silly for Dain to be so aware of what he’s doing to Jess, and why he’s doing it, and still do it. Internal conflict, realistically, is the buried secret that rears its ugly head once the relationship is already on its way. In Lord of Scoundrels, because there is no external conflict to speak of (the story of Jess’s brother is underexploited in that respect), internal conflict is what drives the story from the start, and what makes the hero appear like a jerk, instead of a victim.

Another way to put it is that there are too many negative emotions between the protagonists for me to believe in their love. You get together with someone to be stronger and happier in the face of the world’s misery, not to add to that misery: that is my opinion, and I will not waver from it. I read modern romance because it mostly depicts a specific comprehension of love which I happen to approve of. Talking about “love” as just a word to define as one pleases is not enough.

How do you like Loretta Chase’s books? Is there still hope for me if I liked neither Miss Wonderful nor Lord of Scoundrels? And if you’re one of the many who loved the latter, please tell me what I missed?

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