Paperback Reader

As many of you will recall, I was pleasantly surprised when I plucked Elizabeth Hoyt’s The Raven Prince out of the morass of books slated for potential review (can a pile on a desk truly be considered a morass or is it just a mess>). Fresh time period, fresh approach to characters, fresh story, and, joy of all joys!, fresh voice. It is no wonder that I was eager to dive into Hoyt’s follow-up The Leopard Prince.

Set during the wild period of history known as the Georgian era (when men wore high heels and women loved them for it), The Leopard Prince tells the story of Harry Pye, a commoner who serves as land steward to the wealthy Lady Georgina Maitland, a woman who has inherited a vast estate but doesn’t have a clue about how one runs the land. George, as she thinks of herself, is well past the age of romance and marriage (a ripe old 28) and only just now learning to appreciate the finer qualities of the opposite sex.

Granted this happens as the carriage she and Harry are traveling north in overturns, but, still, better late than never.

As George quickly learns, Harry’s ability to find shelter on that stormy night comes not from resourcefulness but from great familiarity with the Yorkshire area. He’s no stranger to these parts, and as those who quickly accuse him of murdering sheep in the region note, he has good reason to seek vengeance on the local gentry, particularly George’s neighbor, Lord Granville. Granville, not one to let evidence or lack thereof color his conclusions, does a full-court press to prosecute Harry for these deaths. George chooses not to succumb to Granville’s pressure and begins working with Harry to solve the crime.

George is rich but not overly beautiful. She’s gregarious and reasonably well-adjusted (especially since her hypochondriac mother remains appropriately on the sidelines of the novel). When she decides that she wants to have an affair with Harry, she goes for it. She takes the lead on the seduction and refuses to back off. When her affair is exposed to her brothers, she doesn’t cower in shame. She does, sure, realize that she’s not going to have a leisurely, enjoyable breakfast – this is the second book in a row for me where the heroine is big on the breakfast thing – but she’s not ashamed of her actions.

Harry doesn’t have any particular qualms about bedding his employer. He finds her attractive, knows there’s no future in their relationship, and still proceeds. Okay, so he’s possessive about the woman he loves. He’s a guy. That’s what they do. Despite his apparently low beginnings, Harry is proud of what he’s made himself and confident in his skin.

Which is nice because just as in the first novel of this series, Hoyt gives us a less-than-perfect hero. Harry is, shall we say?, undertall. He’s not a strapping man by any means. And his hair is brown. Ordinary brown. The kind of brown that normal people have.

If it weren’t for the fact that his eyes are vivid emerald green, he’d be downright human.

Hoyt’s schtick in this series is to tie the plot to ancient (mostly made-up) fairy tales. Georgina, who apparently collects these tales, spins out the story of the emerald-eyed Leopard Prince throughout the novel, telling a bit here, adding a detail there. I like this approach better than the more studied introduction-to-each-chapter approach she took in The Raven Prince. George’s inability to tell the story in a logical fashion makes her more approachable as a character. And Harry’s heroic actions mirror the feats of the enchanted Leopard Prince, caged in leopard form as other try to take credit for his miraculous feats of derring-do.

In the legend, the only man for the princess is the man who can meet the tasks set by her father. In this story, Harry is the only man for George. He saves her life, listens to her stories, and takes her seriously. They fit together in a way that tells the reader that their love will last. From the beginning of the book, you sense these two are a couple. If they can overcome the obstacles of their circumstances, they’ll be perfectly happy.

While this novel largely focuses on the relationship between George and Harry – Hoyt is very good at writing sensual scenes that mix delicacy and earthiness – there is a mystery afoot. Someone is killing sheep and trying to frame Harry. Granville continues to raise the stakes in the game, and soon it’s not just sheep being murdered. I imagine that Yorkshire is largely a bucolic region, but, man, things get violent here.

George learns, much to her chagrin, what it means to run a large estate. She discovers that while there are many sheep dotting the landscape, the death of one is a hardship for tenant farmers. She also learns that the endless rain – a plot element largely forgotten by Hoyt in the excitement of catching a murderer – is financial devastation, not only for the tenants but also for her. Sure, she can cover her losses, but not everyone can.

Hoyt weaves these facts about life in 18th century England into her story, making the sheep murders dark and dangerous. Harry doesn’t just face an angry Granville; he’s dealing with a general population facing loss of income. Solving this mystery is not something he needs to do to fill pages in the novel. As long as he’s everyone’s favorite suspect, he’s in danger.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been alternating my historical romance with romantic suspense lately, but it’s really nice when the core mystery is tied integrally to the story. We’re not dealing with some random serial killer. The losses being suffered here relate directly to the setting and time period.

I started off noting that there are a whole lot of romance novels published every year. And, if legend is to be believed, there are only so many plots (seven? eight?). We all know how romance novels turn out: if you ain’t got a happy ending, you ain’t got a romance. So what keeps fans coming back, book after book, year after year? I believe it’s voice – it’s that one intangible, the one thing that every author has. Some voices resonate, some sound like me singing in the shower.

Elizabeth Hoyt falls in the former category. Her writing style is strong and confident. She isn’t afraid to play with conventions while taking risks. These are plusses. But what appeals to me is her voice. While she’s writing about very proper people in an era rife with overdeveloped manners, she reaches out to the reader in an almost casual way. As I read her work, I feel like I’m having a conversation with the book.

This is a hard thing to describe, but you know what I mean. The author tells the story, not as someone dutifully reciting facts and figures, but as someone invested in the world she’s describing. Hoyt doesn’t try to – or pretend to – recreate the 18th century. To do so would make for very tough reading. Instead, she gets into the soul of her story and lures the reader in. Good writers do this. I think I can honestly say that my favorite romance novels do not so much hinge on the story or even the falling in love as much as the author’s voice.

The reader must trust the author. We must believe that she’ll keep us safe. We must believe that she knows what she’s doing. And we must believe her. It is fiction that we’re dealing with here – nobody mistakes these books for real life, and that’s a good thing – and to lose yourself in a story requires an author who can tell that story.

I picked my first Elizabeth Hoyt book up because something about it assured me that I wouldn’t be disappointed. I picked up my second Hoyt novel because the first fulfilled its promise. We all know how this goes; I’m not only a sucker for a series, but I’m an absolute cream puff for great voice.

Now for the downside.

I have to admit that, after experiencing those blissful moments that come when you can’t put a book down, I was disappointed in the ending. It felt off. George has hightailed it back to London where she makes the decision to marry an old family friend (conveniently gay) as she’s pregnant – Hoyt slyly reminds us all that pulling out is not an effective form of birth control. Harry decides he’s going to go after his lady, enlisting the help of his good friends Edward de Raaf, Earl of Swartingham (also the hero of The Raven Prince and Simon Iddesleigh (Lord of something and hero of the upcoming The Serpent Prince).

Yes, dear friends, we have a stop the wedding at the altar scenario going on. I realize it makes for lovely drama and all that, but it’s just so cliché for the hero to arrive at the church just before it’s too late. Hoyt has been so good about avoiding the obvious choices in her work; the same old, same old of the ending for this book brought my happiness down a notch.

Just a notch, mind you. It was really a pleasure to read up to that point. And it was cute how the two warring factions did the male bonding thing in a way that was totally consistent with Hoyt’s set-up for her three heroes. And Iddesleigh intrigues me. In a good way.

You can find Elizabeth Hoyt here. You can buy The Leopard Prince here or here. You know where you can disagree – or gush, as the case may be – with me.