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I thoroughly enjoyed Minvera Spencer’s début novel, [b:Dangerous|41551403|Dangerous (The Outcasts, #1)|Minerva Spencer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1535429769s/41551403.jpg|58015977], and have been looking forward to its follow-up Barbarous, which features the dashing privateer Hugh Redvers, who played an important secondary role in the earlier novel. I was engaged by the author’s sophisticated, witty writing, and her ability to create rounded and engaging characters who acted and spoke like adults rather than brattish teenagers; her prose and dialogue were definitely above average, and in some cases, well above it, and I was keen to read more of her work.
This second book in her The Outcasts series is somewhat different in tone to the first, and feels more like a traditional historical romance than the first one. Hugh Redvers, Baron Ramsay and nephew of the Earl of Davenport, has been believed dead for almost twenty years, so his sudden reappearance at his (now deceased) uncle’s Sussex home comes as something of a shock to its mistress. Banished by the earl because of his disgraceful behaviour, twenty-year-old Hugh left England and was captured by Barbary corsairs off the Gibraltar coast. Sold to the Sultan of Oran, he endured years of suffering and violence before, years later, he engineered his escape and became One-Eyed Standish, captain of the Batavia’s Ghost, King’s Privateer and scourge of the high-seas. He’s finally returned to England in response to a summons from his oldest friend, who has received letters threatening the lives of the late earl’s widow Daphne and her twin sons, Lucien – the young earl - and Richard. Hugh arrives at an opportune time; Daphne has just bloodied the nose of her smarmy cousin Malcolm Hastings who is attempting to force her into marriage (and force himself on her). Seeing her dishevelled state, Hugh quickly draws the boys away and plays with them while she tidies herself and then resumes the picnic they’d originally intended to have. She’s cool, composed and doesn’t freak out, which I really liked about her.
After Daphne gets over the shock of Hugh’s return she realises she’s got bigger problems than the fact that she’s as hopelessly infatuated with him as she was when she was a ten-year-old girl mooning over her handsome neighbour. We learn early on that she was raped when she was just seventeen (by the aforementioned smarmy cousin), and that she was left pregnant as a result. The Earl of Davenport – her mother’s oldest friend – although some fifty years Daphne’s senior, came to her rescue, married her (although they never lived as man and wife) and acknowledged the boys as his when they were born. But now Hugh has returned, Daphne believes she has deprived him of what is rightfully his (the earldom), and feels dreadfully guilty about it. Her intense attraction to him only makes things worse; she longs to spend time with him and, being honest with herself, to experience passion and the pleasure she’s sure he is capable of giving her; but knows she has to make plans to leave Lessing Hall as soon as she’s confessed the truth, as Lucien will no longer have any claim to it.
I have to take a quick tangential detour here, because this plot point bugged the hell outta me.
I don’t claim to be an expert on the laws of inheritance in the 19th century, but my understanding is that at this period, a child born to parents who were married at the time of his or her birth was legitimate, regardless of whether the woman’s husband actually provided the sperm. This means that Lucien is – perfectly legally – the Earl of Davenport. Would it cause gossip and scandal if there were rumours about Lucien’s true parentage? Undoubtedly. But would it make any actual difference to who held the title? Unlikely.
The problem, then, is that this makes a large part of the plot redundant. Daphne spends over half the book genuinely intending to tell Hugh the truth and finding reasons to put it off – but other than the fact that she feels terribly guilty, her fessing up wouldn’t actually change anything.
Anyway.
Hugh is a terrific hero. He’s handsome, funny, sexy and larger-than-life (as well as larger than pretty much everyone else around him!), but he’s also kind, honourable and thoughtful, qualities which show in his every interaction with Daphne’s sons as well as those with Daphne herself, and I loved that he was so self-aware and prepared to let himself show his softer side when it came to Daphne and the boys. He’s coming up on forty, and is finding his swashbuckling life on the high seas has palled somewhat; having a girl in every port was great for many years, but now, he wants more than just a warm body, he wants a companion, a woman he can enjoy out of bed as well as in it. The attraction between him and Daphne sparks and crackles, and while the ‘inexperienced widow’ figure is perhaps a little cliché, the author develops their relationship very well. Daphne gives as good as she gets when it comes to their verbal sparring, and Hugh has a major weakness for women who appear immune to his charm; he’s used to women throwing themselves at him, so having Daphne view him as a mere inconvenience only adds fuel to the fire on his part.
While I liked both principals and found their romance well-done, I had a couple of other issues with the story as a whole which prevent me from giving it a higher grade. Firstly, there’s the blackmail/kidnap plotline towards the end, in which Daphne has a bit of a personality transplant and the villains are barely two-dimensional. And then there’s the way the author deals with Daphne’s assault and her memories of it. I don’t want to give too much away, but it struck me that Ms. Spencer wanted to have her cake and eat it; to provide a reason for Daphne to have to marry the earl and eventually lead to all that guilt at stealing Hugh’s birthright, but make it so that it wouldn’t affect her desire for Hugh or her ability to have sex with him, and I found it rather jarring.
Having said all this, I did enjoy Barbarous, although I wasn’t quite as pulled in to it as I was by Dangerous. I found myself wondering if this book had been written before Dangerous, as there’s a pivotal scene in which Mia appears which obviously takes place before the events of that book. I also felt Barbarous was a little less … polished is the only word I can come up with, not so much in terms of the writing and characterisation, but definitely in the case of the plot. I may well be completely off the mark – it’s just a hunch.
Even with my reservations, I’m going to give Barbarous a cautious recommendation, because the romance is well done and Hugh is a hero to die for. The plotline is definitely wobbly, but I know I’m extra-picky about accuracy and that there are many for whom something like that will not be an issue. The writing is a cut above average, the characters are engaging - and the scarcity of decent historical romances this year means that even a flawed one by a talented author is worth checking out.
[One last thing – Ms. Spencer does address the fact that a marriage between an aunt and nephew – even though Hugh and Daphne are not related by blood – was forbidden by church law, even though it wasn’t illegal under the laws of the land. ]
This second book in her The Outcasts series is somewhat different in tone to the first, and feels more like a traditional historical romance than the first one. Hugh Redvers, Baron Ramsay and nephew of the Earl of Davenport, has been believed dead for almost twenty years, so his sudden reappearance at his (now deceased) uncle’s Sussex home comes as something of a shock to its mistress. Banished by the earl because of his disgraceful behaviour, twenty-year-old Hugh left England and was captured by Barbary corsairs off the Gibraltar coast. Sold to the Sultan of Oran, he endured years of suffering and violence before, years later, he engineered his escape and became One-Eyed Standish, captain of the Batavia’s Ghost, King’s Privateer and scourge of the high-seas. He’s finally returned to England in response to a summons from his oldest friend, who has received letters threatening the lives of the late earl’s widow Daphne and her twin sons, Lucien – the young earl - and Richard. Hugh arrives at an opportune time; Daphne has just bloodied the nose of her smarmy cousin Malcolm Hastings who is attempting to force her into marriage (and force himself on her). Seeing her dishevelled state, Hugh quickly draws the boys away and plays with them while she tidies herself and then resumes the picnic they’d originally intended to have. She’s cool, composed and doesn’t freak out, which I really liked about her.
After Daphne gets over the shock of Hugh’s return she realises she’s got bigger problems than the fact that she’s as hopelessly infatuated with him as she was when she was a ten-year-old girl mooning over her handsome neighbour. We learn early on that she was raped when she was just seventeen (by the aforementioned smarmy cousin), and that she was left pregnant as a result. The Earl of Davenport – her mother’s oldest friend – although some fifty years Daphne’s senior, came to her rescue, married her (although they never lived as man and wife) and acknowledged the boys as his when they were born. But now Hugh has returned, Daphne believes she has deprived him of what is rightfully his (the earldom), and feels dreadfully guilty about it. Her intense attraction to him only makes things worse; she longs to spend time with him and, being honest with herself, to experience passion and the pleasure she’s sure he is capable of giving her; but knows she has to make plans to leave Lessing Hall as soon as she’s confessed the truth, as Lucien will no longer have any claim to it.
I have to take a quick tangential detour here, because this plot point bugged the hell outta me.
I don’t claim to be an expert on the laws of inheritance in the 19th century, but my understanding is that at this period, a child born to parents who were married at the time of his or her birth was legitimate, regardless of whether the woman’s husband actually provided the sperm. This means that Lucien is – perfectly legally – the Earl of Davenport. Would it cause gossip and scandal if there were rumours about Lucien’s true parentage? Undoubtedly. But would it make any actual difference to who held the title? Unlikely.
The problem, then, is that this makes a large part of the plot redundant. Daphne spends over half the book genuinely intending to tell Hugh the truth and finding reasons to put it off – but other than the fact that she feels terribly guilty, her fessing up wouldn’t actually change anything.
Anyway.
Hugh is a terrific hero. He’s handsome, funny, sexy and larger-than-life (as well as larger than pretty much everyone else around him!), but he’s also kind, honourable and thoughtful, qualities which show in his every interaction with Daphne’s sons as well as those with Daphne herself, and I loved that he was so self-aware and prepared to let himself show his softer side when it came to Daphne and the boys. He’s coming up on forty, and is finding his swashbuckling life on the high seas has palled somewhat; having a girl in every port was great for many years, but now, he wants more than just a warm body, he wants a companion, a woman he can enjoy out of bed as well as in it. The attraction between him and Daphne sparks and crackles, and while the ‘inexperienced widow’ figure is perhaps a little cliché, the author develops their relationship very well. Daphne gives as good as she gets when it comes to their verbal sparring, and Hugh has a major weakness for women who appear immune to his charm; he’s used to women throwing themselves at him, so having Daphne view him as a mere inconvenience only adds fuel to the fire on his part.
While I liked both principals and found their romance well-done, I had a couple of other issues with the story as a whole which prevent me from giving it a higher grade. Firstly, there’s the blackmail/kidnap plotline towards the end, in which Daphne has a bit of a personality transplant and the villains are barely two-dimensional. And then there’s the way the author deals with Daphne’s assault and her memories of it. I don’t want to give too much away, but it struck me that Ms. Spencer wanted to have her cake and eat it; to provide a reason for Daphne to have to marry the earl and eventually lead to all that guilt at stealing Hugh’s birthright, but make it so that it wouldn’t affect her desire for Hugh or her ability to have sex with him, and I found it rather jarring.
Having said all this, I did enjoy Barbarous, although I wasn’t quite as pulled in to it as I was by Dangerous. I found myself wondering if this book had been written before Dangerous, as there’s a pivotal scene in which Mia appears which obviously takes place before the events of that book. I also felt Barbarous was a little less … polished is the only word I can come up with, not so much in terms of the writing and characterisation, but definitely in the case of the plot. I may well be completely off the mark – it’s just a hunch.
Even with my reservations, I’m going to give Barbarous a cautious recommendation, because the romance is well done and Hugh is a hero to die for. The plotline is definitely wobbly, but I know I’m extra-picky about accuracy and that there are many for whom something like that will not be an issue. The writing is a cut above average, the characters are engaging - and the scarcity of decent historical romances this year means that even a flawed one by a talented author is worth checking out.
[One last thing – Ms. Spencer does address the fact that a marriage between an aunt and nephew – even though Hugh and Daphne are not related by blood – was forbidden by church law, even though it wasn’t illegal under the laws of the land. ]