Unlaced (Ashton/Rosemoor, #1) (2024)

“Unlaced” was another in a string of failures to find something I once took for granted: a fun, satisfying, well-crafted book. I truly thought at several points that it would be a DNF, but I had made predictions about what would happen, and I was determined to see if I was right. There was skimming involved.

It is the tale of Lucy, 21, who wants only to continue to explore her natural gifts with animals. She has an affinity for all creatures great and small, and a knack for healing them, and in 1817 she does not have the option of going to train to be a legitimate veterinarian. However, she is sent to London, to have her debut, and she realizes that while she is there she can prevail upon another family friend to get her some kind of in with the veterinary college. She certainly doesn’t want to get married – she insists on that, frequently; she will go through with her Season to please her father, and then go right back to what she wants to do.

Enter Henry, Lord Mandeville, a marquess with Issues. His mother was cruel to him, and unfaithful to his father, and he has vowed that he will not follow his father’s example of blind adoring faith in an unworthy woman. He has no interest in marrying for love; he will marry a woman who will bring something useful to the match. (Character in the book: "He’s mysterious and moody, especially after that scandal three years past." My comment: Well, then, he's obviously The One.) (And, of course, that mysterious scandal is all very enticing.)

So far, so … good, I suppose, despite the fact that anachronistic feminism is hard to pull off. Would a girl of the period really develop the mindset Lucy has, however unconventional her upbringing or however great her gifts with animals? I didn’t quite believe in an early 19th century girl who planned to be a veterinarian, wore breeches, rode astride, and so on: desiring only "the freedom to learn, and maybe, just maybe, the opportunity to build her own informal veterinary practice." And I found it harder to believe in a local populace who would trust their animals, from lapdogs to carthorses, to a minimally educated “informal” dilettante. A farmer could never afford to let an untrained vet tend the animals that were his livelihood; God knows I wouldn’t let an untrained vet touch any pet of mine. There are a great many professions at which one can do quite well for oneself without formal training; any form of medicine, be it human or animal, is not something that can be tried out with enthusiasm and a smattering of learning. One does not know instinctively how to, oh, for example, deliver a foal in a breech position.

And this made me question a lot of other things which might otherwise have skated by. Lucy coming out at the late age of 21, and her attitude toward same. The main characters, Lucy and Henry, begin calling each other Lucy and Henry within about an hour of meeting – in 1817. Lucy scampers about the countryside completely unchaperoned, which for a lady I thought was completely unacceptable, and for a young lady in the midst of her Season beyond completely unacceptable. There’s plenty more, but this will be quite long enough.

Another failure, in my opinion, was in the author’s knowledge of horses. There was not a tremendous amount of horse-related stuff, but everything there was seemed a little off. Henry and Lucy, both stated to be excellent riders, were constantly digging their heels into their horses’ sides. Who knows, maybe riding was utterly different a hundred years ago, and it’s been a while since I’ve been on a horse, but when I was taking lessons, if I’d kicked a horse like that I think my lessons would have come to an end. At one point Lucy is asked about the foal she helped bring into the world. “The filly? Oh yes, the foal.” Yes. The foal. Which is female. And therefore a filly. This is not something I can imagine anyone who knows horses saying. Ever. The author also flips between “it” and “he” when referring to a horse, at least once in consecutive sentences. Lucy’s other main equestrian patient came when she was summoned urgently to a horse with colic, because no one else knew what to do for it. Not the grooms; not the horsem*n; not the horse owners; not another single soul had a clue in the world what to do for colic. Colic is not a rare and exotic ailment. This is absurd. "Digging a heel into Thunder’s side, she led her horse..." A) Again with the digging. And B) she has 2 horses? Because riding and leading are different things. Finally (for the purposes of this review), Lucy's brother let her mare get fat while she was away. Why? "You can’t expect me to go around on a mount called Princess now, can you?” Why not? Does she commonly wear a fluffy nametag with "Princess" picked out in hearts and flowers? Are people going to point and laugh and say "Hee hee, there goes whatsit on a girly horse"? So you let a horse go without decent exercise for months? Who was there to even see besides servants?? These people irk me.

Similarly: Colin, re Lucy: “You’ve taken a spirited mare and broken her beyond recognition." Right. I love horses. But you compare me to or equate me with a mare, in any way or shape or form, and there will be hell to pay.

I saw something recently, and I wish I had made a note of exactly what it was and where, about how, really, the advice to writers of “show, don’t tell” is bogus because when you write you’re always telling. I wish I had noted the name of the person writing that, so that I can avoid their work. Or so I could shoot them a message recommending this book as an example of “tell, don’t show”. Because:

Lucy is held up as an example of a sensible, logical girl. However, when someone wakes her up and calls her out to deliver that foal (filly), she puts on a dress of butter yellow. Anyone who’s read the James Herriot books knows that large animal delivery is a messy business - pale yellow is an idiotic thing to wear. Also, she keeps putting herself into situations where untoward things happen, and then wonders how and why. The whole idea of cause and effect seems beyond her. (At hearing the news that a horse is sick and she is needed, she hurries off to prepare, “beaming delightedly”. It’s a bit off-putting that because a horse is ill and she can have a chance to show off, she is delighted.) Again, there are plenty of other examples.

And because:

Henry is held up as an example of a terrifically good man. However, the second time he meets Lucy, within an hour or two he is groping her and kissing her “senseless”. And then blaming her: “And do those odd activities of yours generally include allowing men you barely know to kiss you senseless?” And he proceeds to behave much the same way any time he is even close to being alone with her. (His hands "moved down her sides, brushing softly against the curve of her breasts"… my simultaneous reactions were that she needed to slap him, a lot, and that her anatomy must be rather odd if he moved his hands down her sides to her breasts.) It is utterly hilarious when he is described as "normally a man of acute restraint". He seems to feel she is less than a lady (small “L”) because she is the daughter of a physician and there are no titles in her immediate family – and because she pursues these “odd activities” – therefore he can treat her however he wants. This is wrong on so many levels that if I go into all of them this review will approach NaNoWriMo proportions. Why do romance writers do this? How am I supposed to want these two to get together when I can only feel she needs a restraining order (and a minder)? At less than a 1/4 of the way in, the Hero had pawed Lucy, insulted her, apologized to her, defended her, insulted her again, and by that point could be found drunkenly pawing her again - in a locked room. A room he locked them into. I was ready to call 911 (or 999), and she? Melted into him. Which goes back to how sensible she is. But, we are told, Henry made some liberal speeches, and saved a wounded puppy. Oh, well, if there’s a puppy – well, everything's fine then.

"I mustn’t forget your reputation”, he says, after having forgotten her reputation at least half a dozen times. But that's all right, because she disregards her own reputation at every turn as well.

Of course, he’s a remarkable artist. Proof being that he draws Lucy. Half-naked. Then wanders about London with the drawing. She sees it. She doesn’t mind. In fact, she says: "These should be displayed somewhere.” “‘...That one I’ve begun in oil on canvas.’ He’d sketched her from the back, her chin tipped over one shoulder. She wore nothing but a corset, partially unlaced.” I find it remarkable that he is unconcerned about who might see it in progress or when completed (i.e., anyone who knows or might meet Lucy, ever). And what does he plan to do with the completed piece? Does he have a sleazy man-cave?

As anyone who has read my reviews of historical fiction before might know, my number one pet peeve is the improper, anachronistic use of the work “okay”. I have closed books permanently upon coming across a medieval or Victorian “okay”. I have flung books. This book was on my Kindle, so I couldn’t fling it when I came to “Everything okay, miss?” It's a bellwether, a canary in the coal mine of a book, a sure sign that the book is not okay. It’s a stupid, careless, easily avoided mistake, and I have no patience for it. But I kept reading. Even when there was a second “okay” about a third of the way through. It began to almost literally hurt after a while. Because there were so many other language errors. I never understand why anyone with a tin ear for language chooses to set a book in a time for which she has no feeling. To refer to “blocks” as a unit of measurement in 1817 in reference to country estates? To talk about something being therapeutic? (It took me less than two minutes to find that that word wasn’t used before 1846.) "It’s grown infected"… I have to give her this one; I was sure that “infected” was anachronistic, but the word was in use in the 14th century (though possibly not as it's used now; some day I'll have to research that better).

Besides the anachronisms, there were other oddities of language, the (say it with me) “I don’t think it means what you think it means” syndrome. Lucy’s legs “shaking madly”? Lemonade referred to as a “pungent liquid”? ("Affecting the organs of taste or smell with a sharp acrid sensation.") The foal mentioned above “ceased it strident suckling”. There’s a missing “s” there; use of “it” is obnoxious after the emphasis on the foal’s gender a minute before; and … strident? … How? … “characterized by harsh, insistent, and discordant sound” – suckling? Et cetera.

"He felt a sharp pain shoot through his gut. Regret? No, it must be hunger. He hadn’t eaten all day." How unintentionally hilarious. It was a free book: this is good. It was a bad book: this isn’t good.

This review is of “Unlaced”, book #1 in the “Ashton/Rosemoor/Undone by Love” series by Kristina Cook.

The book begins in 1817, Glenfield, Essex, England. Lucy Abbington, the heroine of the book, has been sent to visit her aunt, Agatha Stafford, and to have a London Season, which Lucy is not interested in.. Lucy has no interest in the marriage mart; she is actually interested in veterinary sciences. (Being a female in Regency England means that dream will not be fulfilled, at least formally). Lucy later meets Henry Ashton, the sixth Marquess of Mandeville, the hero of the book, when she treats his ailing horse and later helps one of his foals give birth. Although they are attracted to each other, various issues work against them. Those issues are:

Their backgrounds. Lucy is a vicar’s daughter; Henry is a Peer of the Realm.

Lucy’s wish to be a veterinarian. In Regency England, women working was just not done.

Henry’s wish to not to fall in love with his wife. Henry’s father loved his mother, who was unfaithful to him. (Henry witnessed his mother in flagrante delicto with another male when Henry was 12). This disillusioned him about love.

Henry’s mother’s wish for him to marry another woman, Lady Charlotte Haverford, who is a spiteful witch. But, she has a title, and that’s what truly matters to Lady Mandeville.

After Henry is stabbed and seriously wounded, he realizes how much he loves Lucy, stops trying to change her, and offers for her hand in marriage. She accepts, they have two children and their Happily Ever After.

Upside: Ms. Cook does a fairly good job writing Lucy and Henry as relatable characters. I especially felt Lucy’s emotions at being boxed in by a patriarchal society that didn’t value her or her skills.

Downside: Of the genres I read-romance and various subgenres and cozy mysteries-Regency romance is toward the bottom of books I like. The reason, the books tend to be stiff, highly hypocritical, and patriarchal, and that is the case in “Unlaced”. Lucy is criticized for wanting something more than being a man’s eye candy. Henry criticizes his unnamed mother-she is only called Lady Mandeville-for having an affair, even though he doesn’t have the same disdain for other men who cheat on their wives. Ms. Cook could have done a better job detailing her characters’ emotions; she does do this to an extent, but there was room for more depth. The supporting characters are pretty one-note players.

Sex: Early heavy petting; one love scene late in the book, which is fairly mild.

Violence: Threats of violence take place. The only actual violence is “off-screen” when Henry is stabbed. Only the aftermath of the stabbing and Henry’s recovery is shown.

Bottom Line: The first book in a series is about getting readers interested in the books that follow. Am I excited to read the other books in the “Ashton/Rosemoor” series? Not from “Unlaced”, but I will read them nonetheless.

One giant eye-roll after another...

I think this author wanted to write a grand love story where the flawed, damaged hero overcomes his past to woo and win the strong, independent female protagonist. The HEA delivers that ending, but the journey to that point is painfully annoying.

The hero (H) has serious mommy issues resulting in his frequently stated disrespect for women of his own exalted social class, seeing them as weak, scheming and vacuous. At the same time, however, he REPEATEDLY tells our heroine (h) that he cannot marry her because she is not his social equal even though she is the opposite of what he disdains most about women of his class. This, however, does not keep him from several attempts, with varying degrees of success to get her into his bed, suggesting more than once, that she become his mistress. Bottom line, the guy is a right bastard through 80% of this book.

What about our heroine? Motherless from an early age, she is raised by her doting, country doctor father and a maiden aunt. She has a consuming interest in veterinary medicine and wishes to become a country vet at a time when women were barred from universities, let alone all professions except the 'oldest' one. My main problem with her is that she is a tease. She allows our H have his way with her, often topping just short of intercourse then pulls back insisting that to go further would ruin her reputation. Having that happen once in a novel is one thing, but it happens repeatedly in this one to the point where she looks more like a sexual tease than the spunky heroine she's intended to be.

Bottom line: this book is one giant eye-roll after another and I didn't care for either of the main characters. The writing was flat, the pacing was sluggish and the only thing that mitigated the eye-rolling was the Hero's twin sister calling him out on his weak BS. She was the only believable and interesting character in the entire book.

This one has the arc I like least in romance. It goes like this:

High-in-the-instep hero is reluctantly attracted to brilliant, beautiful, intelligent heroine, whom he considers to be far, far beneath him. He waffles wildly between courting her and being a douche to her, because he hates that he wants her and must push her away and marry someone appropriate. His behavior crosses the line again and again, but the heroine always welcomes him back with open arms when he flips his personality away from douche-mode and back to affection. Each time she forgives him and can't restrain herself from succumbing to his manly manliness, I respect her less. Eventually, he caves to his lust for her, and condescends to marry her.

Yay.

Why do people find that arc appealing? Honestly, I'm asking. He is an entitled, spoiled, self-absorbed bag of sh*t. And she is a weak-willed "innocent" being drawn into his web of bullsh*t ... undermining her own character as she repeatedly goes back for more. It's not romantic that he finally decides he has to marry her. It feels more like everyone's character is just eroded enough by the storm of lust that they give into the inevitability.

The worst books that use this story line - like this one - don't even have the hero do anything to redeem himself. Instead, something dramatic happens to him, and the heroine runs to his side, willing to forgive everything and cast her life out the window because, by god, he needs her and she can't live without him.

Yuck.

Twenty-year-old Lucy Abbington has only one desire. She wants to study and become a doctor of veterinarian medicine. She has always loved animals and can’t stand to watch helplessly as they suffer. As the daughter of a country doctor, Lucy in firmly established in the local gentry and more than happy in helping her neighbors with their ailing animals. Her father, although tolerant of her desire to help animals and being a bluestocking, hopes that she will someday marry well. She has spent many summers near the town of Glenfield in Essex at Ludlow House with her friends, Jane and Susanna Rosemoor. Under pressure from her father, she has agreed to travel to London and partake in the 1817 season. This means she will be staying at Rosemoor House and attending the many balls, parties, and soirees of the season. Her father hopes she will find a suitable husband, she hopes that she can possibly attend some classes to further her veterinarian hopes.
Lord Henry Ashton, sixth Marquis of Mandeville, has an estate bordering the Rosemoor estate. While going to visit his neighbors, his prize stallion, Phantom, is injured. When he is unexpected accosted by a young lady in breeches and boots, he is intrigued by this strange sight. His injured horse is cared for by Lucy and she convinces Lord Henry of her expertise in caring for animals.
A strange sensual and sexual attraction between these two people is almost immediate. Both parties initially try to ignore, and later actively resist the attraction but it soon proves too powerful. Lord Henry finds Lucy alluring, voluptuous, and sensual. Lucy thinks Lord Henry is strong, handsome, and commanding. Will they drop their false pretenses and surrender to love?

There are literally thousands of historical romances in print. I have read a goodly number of them (I have always been a sucker for a steamy romance). Many of these stories are much the same (almost interchangeable); only the titles and character names have been altered. I look for something that distinguishes one from the rest. This one does. I am always attracted to strong, intelligent heroines and Lucy Abbington fills that bill. In almost everything, she knows her mind and doesn’t hesitate to voice her opinion, whether asked or not. When it comes to the advances of Henry Ashton, all of her senses suddenly desert her, leaving only raw emotions to guide her down the strange path of passionate romance, with all of its veiled dangers and hidden pitfalls. She is wooed and beguiled while retaining her inherent innocence. This makes her more than just a character; this makes her a believable woman. Passion and patience are the keys. Like a majestic butterfly, the story flutters from one passionate flower to another. Each time it lights, a little bit of sweet nectar is tested, keeping the reader hungering for more. I must say that Kristina Cook has written a tale that is a cut above average and look forward to reading more of her work. Her talent at writing perspicuous prose is more that noteworthy.

Tl;dr - This book is yet another stereotypical “girl just wants to pursue her unusual hobby and is above the drama of the London season” novel. Her love interest is another stereotypically toxic alpha male with trust issues towards women. There was no real conflict in the book that wasn’t manufactured, so the plotline was dry and boring. I would not recommend a read.

This book was a slow starter for me. I guess somehow I sensed that the plot was going to be a train wreck, and deep down my brain was trying to steer me away. The plot has been previously summarized by other reviewers, but I really need to emphasize the fact that the plot makes no cohesive narrative sense.

Lucy wants to study the veterinary arts, and has somehow acquired enough skill to diagnose animals by sight. She is also somehow trusted by many people to look after their animals, in spite of her heritage and upbringing. Her brilliant idea is to go to London for a season to please her father, but then kick the metaphorical marriage can down the road to pursue more veterinary studies in London. Cue my eyes rolling at the unlikeliness of this plot line.

Henry is your typical terrible alpha hero, who experienced some early childhood trauma at the hands of his mother, and now comically refuses to ever fall in love despite his sister’s urging to seriously reevaluate his life. He also feels that his childhood trauma entitles him to distrust and mistreat women, including Lucy, because they’re all liars and can’t be trusted. Pass.

Once they meet, the novel becomes a constant back-and-forth of Henry’s toxic masculinity, and Lucy continuing to buy into his nonsense and the drama of the London season. Lucy’s apparent passion for caring for animals becomes a side note to this, along with Henry’s political hopes, Lucy’s jilted suitor, Henry’s other love interest, and Henry’s skill at painting and portraiture (unmentioned until more than halfway through the book). If you even noticed when these plot points randomly cropped up, you’d probably be forgiven for neglecting to follow them when the author dropped them entirely.

I’m not sure who decided this kind of love story was sexy and appealing, but it was just tiring. The unfortunate part of all this is that the author’s writing style isn’t bad. She paints scenes clearly and her dialogue is well-done. Her prose is just wasted on the usual boring tropes that have been beaten to death in Regency romance novels already. This one gets a pass from me.

****spoilers****

Closer to 2.5... The story had potential but (per usual for this genre) needs a strong editor and needed to decide which plot devices she was going to use instead of all of them.

The general plot idea was good. A woman who wishes to become a vet in an era where she is supposed to be a wife; a man determined to avoid romance and focus on ambition falls in love with unsuitable vet-lady.

But, instead of him just being ambitious, he is ambitious, suffered abuse, has been cheated on, has self-esteem issues because he was sickly when young, AND he caught his nasty mom cheating when he was young, AND his mom is trying to determine his future marriage.

And she has had her heart broken by an earl's son, and she feels like she is not "good enough" to marry up because she isnt the daughter of a title, even though she is the granddaughter of a title and has a dowry of some kind, and it turns out she is actually the product of her mother's affair with her best friend's husband (which only serves the purposes of eliminating a rival lover but which no one else can know about and never actually adds much to the story), and ....

Pick one or two problems per character, please!

Also the male protagonist is regularly puffing up his chest, usually "with pride" for something that has nothing to do with him. These dudes must be walking around with inflatable air bags in their shirts!

And it is cute for a pair to almost get to the point of being together and then break up once, maybe twice. But if he has to apologize for being nasty 4 times in 4 interactions for turning from friendly to mean... well, it's not cute anymore.