I avoided The Luckiest Lady in London for the longest time, despite enjoying (well, somewhat) Ravishing the Heiress, simply because I’ve seen people talk about the hero of the book, saying he’s the worst or the cruelest. Personally, I don’t enjoy this in my historical romances, so it did put me off for the longest time.
But I was bored one late Friday, the book was on my Kindle already, and so I dove right in, thinking that at the very least, the prose will be good, and I can also stop any time I feel uncomfortable.
The whole time I was reading, I kept waiting for something really gnarly to happen, for the hero to be truly awful. But that never came.
The short of it is: I loved this book! More than Ravishing the Heiress, in fact, because I felt there was no power imbalance between Felix and Louisa. They were equals and equally awful and so I could enjoy them being horrible to each other and other people with a smile on my face. It’s a lovely, funny book that reminded me somewhat of Lord of Scoundrels (because of the banter), so I highly recommend it.
- Heat level: Very spicy in the second half of the book; these two have some kinks to explore.
- Standalone or series? Part one of the London Trilogy, but you can read it as a standalone because each book is about a different couple.
- Page count: 276 pages
- Read if: You want to read about some flawed, morally gray characters finding love and acceptance.
Thoughts and Feelings
If you know anything about me or you’ve read at least one of my reviews, then you know I have more trouble talking about books I actually liked than talking about the books I disliked. I just want to squee and force everyone to read it. Presently, I’m very impatiently waiting for my mom to finish What I Did for A Duke so I can make her read this next.
But let me try to be eloquent and explain why this book works.
We have our heroine, Louisa. She’s the eldest of four sisters, and her family is pretty poor. Her father was a good-natured fortune hunter who married a baronet’s daughter, only for her family to exile all of them until he died. They lived a humble life, never having much, and while her mother has a yearly sum set on her until the end of her days, Louisa feels responsible for her sisters. What if something happens to her mother? Her sisters will have to work or marry, and all of them have some sort of issues that make them less than eligible for marriage and work. One of them won’t leave her room, one of them has epilepsy, etc.
So, when her father dies and her mother’s family finally reaches out wanting to help, Louisa takes it. She’s spent years preparing for her one singular London season her aunt will sponsor, and she’s ready to go. She has this fake persona all figured out, bust improvers at the ready, and a list of bachelors to go through.
Her eyes are set on the prize — in the form of two gullible, easily manipulated gentlemen, who will likely not mind giving her family their money.
That is, until our hero walks in.
Felix is a rich marquess who’s spent his life building the reputation of the perfect gentleman, to hide the fact that his parents used him as a pawn in their disaster of a marriage and no one has ever shown him any love. He has no intention of marrying anyone, let alone Louisa, but the fact that she sees right through his facade and into his dark heart makes it hard for him to resist.
I adored both of these characters. They both have a persona that no one else sees through, and then when they meet, what initially gets them is that the other person sees them. They’re both super observant and cunning, they’re willing to manipulate situations and people in their favor, and for both of them, it’s refreshing to find someone who gets that.
So they relax in each other’s company immediately, bantering in such a fun way. Louisa is attracted to him, which she’s not afraid to admit, but she’s also aware that he won’t marry her, so she won’t cave to her desires. She has this really great monologue where she explains how her experience as a poor person shaped her and how she can want things and let them go, she’s used to it.
He, of course, is not used to not getting what he wants, so after she refuses to be his mistress, he proposes to her.
It’s really funny watching him fall in love but refusing to accept that he is.
And I know people say that he’s too cruel, that he’s the worst hero in historical romance, but he’s really not. What makes a big difference is that Louisa is his equal — he’s not tricking some innocent ingenue, but sparring with a woman who knows what he’s doing and who can strike back.
So while he does have some cruel-ish moments, it’s really nothing worse than any of these historical romance heroes do. He respects and treats Louisa well, treats her family well too, and you cannot say the same for someone like, say, Sebastian from Devil in Winter, who has these awful alpha male tendencies that are just gross.
At the risk of sounding like one of those people, I think a lot of readers are too sensitive. When I read a romance, I don’t want two perfectly adjusted people having a perfectly healthy relationship. In real life, that’s the goal, but in fiction it’s boring. I want drama, some toxicity, some pizazz. I want flawed characters who do stupid things for misguided but deeply personal reasons. I want conflict. I don’t want therapy speak anywhere near my romance books. I want to see the characters grow but not entirely change everything about themselves because the author said so.
And all of that is exactly what I got here. Felix and Louisa learn to be together and do it well, but they’re still two manipulative people who will continue to make the world and each other bend to their will, and I’m happy with that.
The caveat, of course, being that I want the characters to feel like equals. For example, in Devil in Winter, I don’t feel like the characters are equal in any way, and so everything Sebastian does is doubly worse. In Ravishing The Heiress, I didn’t feel like Millie and Fitz were equals either because Fitz spent years doing whatever he wanted while Millie stayed sensible and deeply in love. I needed him to suffer more. In Black Silk, both Submit and Graham do bad things, so it’s both fun to watch and it makes them feel like real people.
The prose in this book is, as always with Sherry Thomas, delectable. The lush descriptions, the delightful banter, all of it is exactly to my taste. And this is why I’ll likely do more of her books.
In the end, I can only recommend The Luckiest Lady in London. Don’t expect perfect characters or healthy romance, but do expect tons of fun, yearning, very good spice, and some (at least in my opinion) excellent grovelling.
