THE SPRING BRIDE is book three in Ann Gracie's Chance Sisters series. This series follows the four young women who escaped poverty by the skin of their teeth and by their own daring, and were adopted by wealthy Lady Beatrice as her "nieces." A healthy suspension of disbelief is required for much of the back story, but this series is such a fun romp that it is well worth checking your skepticism at the door. THE SPRING BRIDE can be read as a standalone, but will be enjoyed more if read in order, as much of the back story is provided in earlier books.
Jane Chance, nΓ©e Jane Chantry, is on the verge of her London Season. Jane grew up in poverty, after her parents were disowned for marrying and then later died in penury. Neither set of grandparents would acknowledge Jane or her sister, so after their parents' death, they went to an orphan asylum and then into service where they were mistreated. Needless to say, poor Jane has a healthy fear of poverty and hardship. Jane is blindly determined to live a life without the dangers of love, in a sensible marriage to a wealthy man that can provide safety and stability for the children she so desperately desires. While I understand Jane's reasonable motivation, it does make me grind my teeth. Jane chooses an awful, horrid man, Lord Cambury, and I have to keep reminding myself that Jane makes the best choice based on what she thinks will provide the best safety net for her. As the book progresses, I despise her somewhat cartoonish fiancΓ© more and more.
Zachary Black appears to be a ne'er-do-well. A veteran English spy operating on the Continent, he has been missing from England for twelve years. He comes home to prevent his cousin from declaring him dead and assuming the title of Lord Wainfleet along with the familial estate. There's just one entertaining (to me) problem, though. Zach discovers he is unjustly accused of murdering his stepmother, when in actuality he helped her escape from his abusive father twelve years ago. Darling Zach must lie low under an assumed identity as a gypsy until his name is cleared. But the impetuous man discovers he cannot leave Jane alone and unprotected while he waits to be declared innocent and his patrimony is restored.
I enjoy Anne Gracie's writing style, which superimposes strong women and zany antics on a Regency England background. The romance grows naturally and believably between Jane and Zachary, and while Jane fights her sensibilities, she eventually succumbs to the desires of her heart, making me swoon. I adore the love between Jane and her sisters, both familial and sisters of the heart- the generosity of spirit of so many of Gracie's characters are deeply moving. The Chance Sisters is a lovely series, and THE SPRING BRIDE proves once again that Anne Gracie writes compulsively fun Regency romantic wit.
A dog in need of rescue brings together a young debutante
and a mysterious stranger in this regency charmer from
the
beloved Anne Gracie. For fans of Mary Balogh and
Madeline
Hunter.
On the eve of the London Season, Jane Chance is about to
make her entrance into high society. And after a
childhood
riddled with poverty and hardship, Jane intends to make a
good, safe, sensible marriage. All goes according to plan
until a dark, dangerous vagabond helps her rescue a dog.
Zachary Black is all kinds of unsuitableβa former spy,
now
in disguise, heβs wanted for murder. His instructions: to
lie low until his name is cleared. But Zach has never
followed the rules, and he wants Jane Chance for his own.
If that means blazing his way into London society, in
whatever guise suits him, thatβs what heβll do. Jane
knows
she shouldnβt fall in love with this unreliable, if
devastatingly attractive, rogue. But Zach is determinedβ
and
heβs a man accustomed to getting what he wants.
She froze a moment, staring down at the big hand holding her wrist so firmly.
Warm, brown, masculine fingers wrapped around her bare skin. She would have
imagined a gypsy's hands would feel rough but his didn't. She tried to remember
how those hands had smashed into those young thugs. His grip was strong, but he
wasn't hurting her.
With dignity, she turned her head to glare at him. An unhand-me-sir sort of
glare. A society-lady-to-gypsy sort of glare.
It ought to have put him in his place.
It didn't.
Their gazes locked for an endless moment. Gray-green eyes bored unapologetically
into hers, warm hard fingers gripped her firmly. The noise of the city, the
dismal reek of the alleyway, even the dog faded from her awareness. Such bright,
hard, unsettling eyes. Soul-stealing eyes. She swallowed and fought to maintain
her composure.
He was a stranger, a gypsyβand an angry one, judging by the glitter in his eyesβ
and this was the second or third time he'd touched her, yet she felt no sense of
threat. Well, not physically.
It was a different kind of danger.
He was so close she could feel the warmth of his big body, could see each dark
bristle in his skin, the rough darkness of his jaw, the mobile fascination of
his mouth.
Fascination? What was she thinking?
A chance-met gypsy in a small side-alley. Rough. Tough. Intimidating. He'd
handled those boys with a casual violence that ought to have horrified her.
Instead, it had thrilled her.
She ought to be repelled by him.
She wasn't. Far from it. Something about him drew her in some strange way. The
thought sparked a warning deep within her.
"What do you think you're doing?" She wrenched her gaze off his face and glanced
pointedly at his hand. A surprisingly clean hand, tanned, but with clean, well
trimmed fingernails. He didn't smell dirty, either. There was a scent of
woodsmoke and damp wool and old leaves and underneath it all a scent of. . . she
didn't know what, but it was dark and masculine, and somehow. . . enticing.
He moved, and another sliver of stark awareness rippled through her.
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