Well, here we are at the fourth and final book in the Velvet series. Was it any better than the first three?
Aughn. No.
In fanfiction, there's this style of writing that comes from a bunch of fen being really invested in a particular couple in the fandom--say, John and Rodney from Stargate: Atlantis--and instead of the author working to set up their relationship when they get together for the first time, one character will just swoop in and start doing sexual/physical/whatever things to the other.
Most people in fandom will just swoon and say, "Oh, how awesome, John knew that Rodney always wanted to be with him, they were MEANT to be together," etc., etc., and they don't mind that jumping-the-gun sense at all.
It doesn't work for me.
I like John and Rodney as much as the next person, but if I'm reading a story that purports to be about how two people fall in love and start a relationship, I want to hear about the falling-in-love process and the relationship process, not "and then the next day, after lunch, John spontaneously planted a hot one on Rodney while everyone cheered in the background." Written like that, it makes it sound more like the pouncing person is stalking the pounce-ee, or like the pounce-ee doesn't have any choice in the matter. It's not what I'd call good writing, though it has its share of devotees. (My guess is these are mostly people who haven't yet given up on the myth of mindreading, that someday their partner, or dream partner, will simply swoop in and give them everything they want without them even having to know they want it in the first place.)
Well, apparently that trope exists in romance novels, too, because this book is basically that trope in spades. Elizabeth Chatworth (we all saw that one coming) is kidnapped, stripped naked, rolled up in a carpet, and delivered to Miles Montgomery, the Montgomery brother who has the reputation for being a rake (the common rumor is that he made a deal with the devil and can now seduce any woman he wants, and that he has a hundred bastards to prove it).
Miles's reputation is slightly undeserved, but what does he do? He doesn't give Elizabeth clothes and send her home. No! Of course not. Instead, he keeps her with him, repeatedly lies to her and manipulates her, and eventually seduces her and convinces her "not to be afraid of men anymore".
ARE YOU KIDDING ME.
I think what's particularly awful about it is that Elizabeth doesn't start out the book behaving like someone suffering from PTSD and anxiety, as she does later in the book. At first, when she's dropped into a tent knowing full well she's naked and in the lair of her family's sworn enemy, she grabs a blanket and throws it over herself as best she can, and then she defends herself with an axe, which I think is completely justifiable and in no way symptomatic of mental trauma. Naturally, Miles doesn't see it that way, and so he begins Elizabeth's "retraining".
Cue the stalker-y, icky feeling. Miles turns out to be right, but there's no earthly reason he should have had any suspicion that Elizabeth's behavior is indicative of a fear of men--hell, one of the most vicious people in the feud is female! But because he does turn out to be right in the long run, I don't think we're supposed to feel that he's being a scary control freak. He's just trying to take care of her, even though she doesn't know, at first, that she needs it.
The whole book is like that, and all of Miles's tricks and schemes to get Elizabeth over her "fear of men" are manipulative, weasely, horrible things that read like nothing so much as brainwashing and Stockholm Syndrome to me. There are only three things that make this book better than the others:
1.) Elizabeth never goes through the Deveraux Moment Of Realization. She doesn't have one moment of realizing that Miles has been right about everything and she's been wrong about everything. She decides for herself that she wants to take Miles up on his offer to help her start to recover from her PTSD.
2.) There's been a definite trend in these four books toward women having more power in terms of initiating the sexual relationship. In book 1, we had a '70s-cliché "hero has to rape the heroine to prove his virility" scene. In book 2, the marriage was arranged, and the heroine, realistically, had no choice--but she did choose to have sex with the hero. In book 3, the heroine was interested before the hero came on to her, and she responded enthusiastically when he did. Now, in book 4, she actually initiates the sexual phase of their relationship. It's a neat progression, and you almost have to wonder if she was easing her publisher into the idea that women could make those decisions instead of men.
3.) At the end of the book, when the feud between the Montgomerys and Chatworths is solved once and for all, we get a fabulous section of the book devoted to all four of the Montgomery women working together and saving their collective husbands' asses. We finally get to see the women being powerful, competent, and confident in their abilities, and they all work through their issues and fears in order to do it. That is pretty fabulous.
And that rounds out the Deveraux books for now! I'm not sure how long it'll be before I get back to them, but I'm sure I'll get to some of them eventually. (Next on the list, I'm really curious about The Taming and The Conquest. I'm mostly intrigued by The Conquest, which is about a girl who's been disguised as a boy to keep her safe for the past several years, and if I remember right, the guy who falls in love with her is a sworn enemy or something. However, I would like to read The Taming first, so we'll see how that goes.)
Tags: historical, jude deveraux, reading, romance