Expressly pitched as ‘proper’ Juliane Donaldson’s Edenbrooke is a light, sweet Regency romance that, as promised, keeps the palpitating bosom confined within a modest gown.

Motherless 17-year-old heroine, Marianne Daventry is a twin whose sister Cecily has been gallivanting about London since their mother died. Cecily is more beautiful and worldly. She sets her cap at Phillip Wyndham, heir to the magnificent Edenbrooke estate and the brother of her bestie, Louise. Marianne, meanwhile, is bored to tears in Bath while her grandmother tries to make a presentable lady of her, using a 40,000 pound inheritance as a carrot.

When the Wyndhams invite her to spend the summer at Edenbrooke, along with her sister, she is thrilled to leave Bath and escape the attentions of an unwanted suitor. Disaster strikes when her coach is stopped en route by a highwayman, and her protective maid Betsy fires a shot at the masked highwayman but wounds the coachman instead. Seeking help at the nearest inn, Marianne encounters Phillip Wyndham, whose ungentlemanlike disinterest in coming to the rescue ticks her off. He redeems himself and an unexpected friendship develops between them.

In Phillip Wyndham, Donaldson penned a handsome, likeable, romantic hero – every bit the Regency gentleman. Marianne, out of loyalty to her sister, tries to ignore the feelings he arouses. Inexperienced in matters of love and flirtation, she also puzzles (far too often) over whether her attraction is returned. This blindness feels overly contrived and impedes a more rounded characterization. As if to compensate, Donaldson bestows a quirk on Marianne – ‘twirling.’ Readers are supposed to find this silly affectation endearing; I found it irritating. More egregious, by far, however, was Marianne’s pervasive 21st century sensibility and use of present-day language.

Which brings me to my main criticism. Readers who value authenticity will find Edenbrooke a disappointment. If Donaldson did any meaningful research, it doesn’t show.

Comparisons to Jane Austen are bandied about for any Regency novel that has complete sentences. Edenbrooke revisits some of Austen’s storylines, but lacks the complexity, rapier wit, social commentary and nuanced subtext of an Austen or Heyer novel. The comparison is unfair to Ms. Donaldson, whose story stands on its own merits and has a sweet, fresh quality many readers will find heartwarming.

It’s not the most compelling Regency romance I’ve ever read, but it’s an engaging page-turner that kept my attention. The plot acquires momentum and the developing romance occupies most of the book, serving angst, yearning, and just enough conflict to keep a level of tension. That’s enough to put a smile on most faces. Even when I groaned over historical inaccuracies and the antics of the heroine, I remained invested in the HEA and felt the ending paid off the set-up nicely.

This review by Pam Baker was originally published in our newsletter. © 2018.  The Regency Chronicle.