MISS LATTIMORE’S LETTER is a standalone historical romance by Suzanne Allain. Although this is the first book I’ve read by this author, I was thoroughly charmed by this story and these characters. Sophronia “Sophie” Lattimore is no ancient spinster, but she does seem resigned to the fact that any romantic reality may have passed her by. Sophie goes through the experience of being the poor relation acting in some servile capacity. Some keen observations, overheard conversations, and a well-written letter have her crowned “Lady Cupid” and have some looking at her to play matchmaker for them, even though her romantic prospects seem to be non-existent.
Sophie is minding her own business while acting as chaperone for her cousin Cecilia, and being a wallflower by default, when she overhears a conversation between Miss Priscilla Hammond and Mr. Hartwell. Believing she is acting for the greater good, she engineers Priscilla’s marriage to her true love Mr. Hartwell while simultaneously steering her away from a match with a prominent member of the ton. Priscilla and Mr. Hartwell end up becoming characters that keep popping up throughout the book, and in Sophie’s life – whether she wants them to or not. Romance readers will make comparisons between MISS LATTIMORE’S LETTER and Jane Austen’s EMMA, but while both stories have heroines who either consciously or inadvertently matchmake, both are considerably different. Sophie is a mature twenty-eight, but realistically flawed, and the romantic doubts lead to a few farcical scenes. Sir Edmund Winslow confides to Sophie that he is searching for a wife, but it’s unclear to her whether he genuinely wants help finding somebody else, or whether he is using this to get closer to her. She finds Edmund hard to read. Thankfully, for the reader, this story is told from alternating perspectives and can see how strongly he feels for Sophie. As much as the characters can be frustrating at times, you empathize with them and root for them. The introduction of “the one that got away” from Sophie’s past, throws a wrench in the emerging tender feelings between Edmund and Sophie, but also acts as a catalyst for quite a few things in MISS LATTIMORE’S LETTER. While the somewhat rakish Mr. Maitland didn’t do right by Sophie in the past, and acts like kind of a player now, you get the impression that he doesn’t see himself as any kind of villain. As the story progresses, I felt like Mr. Maitland wanted to try to do what he thought best, while not inconveniencing himself that much and while satisfying himself as best he can. Not particularly altruistic, but not a blackhearted villain either.
MISS LATTIMORE’S LETTER has complex characters, an engaging story, and a mix of the ridiculous and the sublimely romantic. I loved the side story involving Sophie’s cousin Cecilia and her evolution as a character, and her romance. I didn’t expect to see her with the man she happily ended up with. Suzanne Allain throws some redeeming qualities at characters you didn’t expect to sympathize with, while still making their feelings and behavior believable. I look forward to reading Suzanne Allain’s next book.
The woman who never made a match of her own is making matches for everyone else in this hilarious comedy of manners from the author of Mr Malcolm's List.
Sophronia Lattimore had her romantic dreams destroyed years ago and is resigned to her role as chaperone for her cousin. Still, she cannot sit idly by when she becomes aware that a gentleman is about to propose to the wrong woman. She sends him an anonymous letter that is soon the talk of the town, particularly when her advice proves to be correct. Her identity is discovered and Sophie, formerly a wallflower, becomes sought after for her 'expert' matchmaking skills.
One person who seeks her out is the eligible and attractive Sir Edmund Winslow. As Sophie assists Sir Edmund in his pursuit of a wife, she wishes she could recommend herself as his bride. However, she vows to remain professional and uninvolved while aiding him in his search (especially since the gentleman surely does not return her affections).
Three unexpected arrivals soon show up at Sophie's door - the man who once broke her heart, a newlywed who is dissatisfied with the match Sophie made for her, and the man madly in love with Sophie's cousin - all wanting her attention. But when her one-time beau and Sir Edmund both appear to be interested in her, Sophie can't figure out if she's headed for another broken heart or for the altar. How can she be expected to help other people sort out their romantic lives when her own is such a disaster?
Excerpt
Sophie had given herself a stern lecture between the church and the wedding banquet and convinced herself that she had no interest in Sir Edmund at all beyond the natural concern one would have for the dear friend of a friend. She even smiled beguilingly at an uncle of the bride’s, but after he sought her out she soon found herself regretting the impulse. Mr. Barrett was a member of the Jockey Club with a tidy bit of property in Leicester, and Sophie found herself learning far more than she’d ever desired to know about the Newmarket races, the Atherstone Hunt, and a Squire Osbaldeston, who was apparently the “best dashed cricketer and master of the hunt to ever be born of woman.” (Since Sophie knew of no other way for a man to be born, she assumed this meant he was quite literally the best.)
So it was difficult for her to hide her relief when Sir Edmund approached them, and in consequence she greeted him far more warmly than she’d intended. Mr. Barrett, presented with evidence that Sophie was very liberal with her smiles and thus no better than a coquette, took himself off and found a fellow sportsman (in the library of all places) who gave him a good tip on the July races.
“I had no idea you were a devotee of equestrian sports,” Sir Edmund said to Sophie, once Mr. Barrett was out of earshot.
“I am not; and have learned quite enough today to satisfy any ignorance I had on the subject.”
“So you would not be interested in a description of the chestnut I picked up at Tattersall’s; a prime bit of blood and bone, got by Blackleg out of Sprightly? I plan to run him at Newmarket.”
“Do you, indeed?” Sophie asked, curious about this insight into his personality. She had not thought him one of the Corinthian set.
“I do, actually, but we do not have to discuss it. I’d prefer to hear about your plan to remove to Bath.”
Sophie was a little embarrassed at this reminder, thinking he must believe her to be pursuing him there, but she could detect nothing satirical or knowing in his direct and friendly gaze. “Cecilia told you, I suppose,” she finally said.
“Yes, and I am quite happy that you took me up on my suggestion. She says Mr. Hartwell is helping to arrange matters.”
They both looked across the room to where Cecilia stood talking to Mr. Hartwell. “Yes,” Sophie said. “Mr. Hartwell has been very obliging indeed.”
“I imagine it is to be a match between them?” Sir Edmund asked, lowering his voice.
Sophie looked up at him, alarmed. “Oh, no; matters have not yet reached that stage. It is premature to speak of it.”
“But it would be a very good match, and there appears to be genuine affection between them, on his side at least. I wonder that you do not use your talents to promote it,” Sir Edmund said, his brow furrowed in confusion at her negative reaction.
“I could not interfere in my cousin’s affairs. I must allow her to make her own decisions.”
Sir Edmund shook his head. “I shall never understand you, Miss Lattimore. Here we are, at the wedding celebration of a match you instigated, and yet you appear to have an aversion to making matches.”
“It is not an aversion, it is just . . . a profound respect, I suppose, for the institution. You were at the ceremony today. It is a wonder that any mortal enters the bonds of matrimony when it is announced at the outset that it is not to be taken ‘unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.’”
“I think you left out a portion,” Sir Edmund said, with a wicked twinkle in his eye. And Sophie, who had knowingly omitted the part about how marriage should not be undertaken to “satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites,” had a difficult time keeping a straight countenance and could not prevent a blush from warming her cheeks.
There was a slight pause and then they both began laughing.
“Trust the church to expound on matters not to be mentioned in polite society,” Sir Edmund said.
“And to ascribe the basest of motives to human behavior,” Sophie added.
Sir Edmund opened his mouth to reply, stopped himself, and merely shrugged. Sophie was left to wonder if he disapproved of her implied criticism of the church, or if he disagreed that such motives for marriage were base. She could not think too deeply on the second supposition and remain comfortable in his presence, so she was relieved when he spoke again.
“To return to the subject of your trip to Bath, have you found a house to let?”
“We did, with Mr. Hartwell’s help. It is on Rivers Street,” she said.
“An excellent address. Mr. Hartwell is to be commended. May I call on you there?”
Sophie was surprised but attempted to conceal it by answering calmly: “Yes, of course. We’d be very pleased to receive you.”
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