Six years ago, Elizabeth Harewood and Lord Roland Penhallow were London’s golden couple, young and beautiful and wildly in love. Forced apart by her scheming relatives and his clandestine career, Lilibet and Roland buried their passion beneath years of duty and self-denial, until a chance encounter at a remote Tuscan inn changes everything they ever knew about themselves… and each other.
But Miss Elizabeth Harewood is now the Countess of Somerton, estranged wife of one of England’s most powerful and brutal aristocrats, and she can’t afford the slightest hint of scandal to her name. When Roland turns up mysteriously at the castle where she’s hidden herself away, she struggles to act as a lady should, but temptation is only a single kiss away…
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
“Divorce: The word was so ugly, so final, so immense with consequences. Who would stand by her against the might of the Earl of Somerton? She’d face ostracism, reduced circumstances, the loss of her son. The sordid details would be dragged through the popular press, ruining her good name, even though the crimes themselves had all been committed by Somerton.”
– A Gentleman Never Tells, page 161
“Ah, but you no longer consider me your husband, do you? You wish to divorce me.” He said the word divorce with a keen sharpness, like the crack of a whip, leaning forward as he did so.
– A Gentleman Never Tells, page 242
The Big D appears rarely in historical romance. For one thing, you could probably count the number of pre-20th century aristocratic divorces in the British Isles on one scandalized hand, and assign half of them (plus a couple of heads) to Henry VIII. For another thing — as I was told far too late in the process of writing A Gentleman Never Tells — romance readers like divorce about as much as they like adultery, which is to say…not much.
So I had a glaring problem when I created the late Victorian romance between dashing Lord Roland Penhallow, the adorable younger brother of the Duke of Wallingford, and Lilibet, the elegant Countess of Somerton. The problem’s name was Lord Somerton, Lilibet’s husband, and he made the Big D (and the Big A, for that matter) essential to the plot.
Not that Lord Somerton wasn’t worth divorcing. Our first image of the man has him ploughing the fertile territory between his tenant’s wife’s legs; he also happens to be vindictive, ruthless, and a terrible father to their six-year-old son, Philip. But spousal adultery alone couldn’t get you a divorce if you were a woman living in 1890 Great Britain: according to the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, a wife had to prove not only adultery, but some other additional factor, such as rape, desertion, or cruelty. (A man, of course, only had to prove adultery.)
Of course, the 1857 Act represented a great leap forward for women (and, indeed, men) trapped in abusive or simply miserable marriages, by making it possible to obtain a divorce at all without an Act of Parliament. We can legitimately cry sexism in its unequal treatment of male and female adultery, but Victorians were simply trying to balance several competing interests: a strong sense of the sanctity of the marriage bond, a genuine desire to provide abused spouses with legal relief, and — surprise, surprise — the primacy of property rights. After all, a child born out of wedlock to a married man would be raised outside the family home and not necessarily at his own expense; not so, the dubious offspring of a straying wife.
Still, divorce retained a sordid odor in the rarefied air of London society. Aristocratic marriages weren’t supposed to be happy; you produced the necessary heirs and went merrily (if discreetly) on your way. Divorce set a Very Bad Example to the middle classes, after all, besides setting up a potential backlash that could upset the entire apple cart of convenient spousal “arrangements” among the upper classes. Lilibet Somerton, for all her serene outward conformity to social convention, is committing perhaps the most daring and courageous act a woman of her time could do: saying Enough is Enough. I don’t have to live like this.
I deserve better.
Better is Lord Roland Penhallow, the man Lilibet has loved since she first met him during her London debut seven years ago. If Lord Somerton is a man worth divorcing, Roland is a man worth having an affair with. He’s handsome, charming, sensual, and — unbeknownst to Lilibet — a clandestine agent in the service of Her Majesty’s Government. Moreover, he’s the devoted father figure that young Philip never had. In defense of Lilibet and her son, Roland will go to any length. He will match his wits and his strength against Lord Somerton himself. He’ll do anything.
The one thing he can’t do, however, is sleep with her.
After all, if Lilibet commits adultery, she has no legal complaint against Somerton. Her divorce petition is thrown out, and Somerton holds all the cards: he can keep her trapped in marriage and take her son away. The stakes, as they say, are pretty high. (And so is the sexual tension.)
What do you think? Are divorce and adultery no-go zones for historical romance? Or can a scandalous love triangle expose the fault lines in British society while keeping the pages turning…and scorching hot?
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
For more information, visit www.julianagray.com. And for a chance to win A Gentleman Never Tells, just leave a comment below.
Honorary Mention of Book Sluts 'R' Us Blogger Awards by 
Pfft. There’re so many themes romance writers aren’t *supposed to* use in their books, but as far as I’m concerned, anything that is fresh and can add on another layer of angst is VERY welcome!
Its only within the last 40 years or so that divorce has been so well accepted here in the US. So most people don’t espect to see it in historical romance. This book sounds like a great read. I have added it to my TBR list and look forward to reading it! Thanks for the opportunity to win a copy.
I think a woman trying to obtain a divorce who is in an awful situation is not a problem for me. I think the problem with divorce is if the couple seemed to just give up on their marriage.
I encourage divorce rather than staying for propriety’s sake in a cold or brutal marriage. And no, I don’t mind reading about it in my historical romances. I would want the woman to have a second chance at finding love, and this time with a good man. So widow or divorcee, they both deserve that. So, write more of those please
I don’t believe that divorce is a no-go in historicals. It’s a different and intriguing twist… one that most authors don’t tackle… Thanks for the contest!
I know that some women really suffered abuse at the hands of their husbands back then. They also had to put up with their husband’s infidelity being blatantly flaunted in their faces. I think that these women should have been allowed to divorce their husband, and find happiness elsewhere. I would love to read this, and see how Juliana handles this very awkward and delicate situation. There’s nothing better to me than reading a well written book, with a lovely “Happy Ever After”.
Thank you for this chance to win.
I have read a few historicals with divorce… I want to see the characters get their HEA, so if divorcing one because of legit reasons like abuse or adultery in order to be happier… let them. I want them to have a chance at love.
I don’t like to read about adultery (neither in historical nor contemporary romances) if it’s the hero or heroine who’re doing it.
I wouldn’t mind reading about divorce. On the contrary, I think it would be interesting to read how it was done in those days and how it affected the lives of the people involved.
I don’t see any thing wrong with having a divorce in a historical. I would truly be something different. I like things to be a little different in my books. Change it up I say.
With all cards stacked against her, not many chances for the wife to
find a HEA situation back then. Add me to the list of those who will
accept a divorce in historicals. BTW, I don’t see any difference in
historicals which describe couples living a separated life in deeply
troubled marriages and this book.
Pat C.
I prefer that my historical romance heroes and heroines not commit adultery and not get divorces. I especially don’t like the heroine to get divorced, because it was such a ruinous thing in those days for the woman.
I generally don’t like divorce during the Victorian era storylines because divorce just wasn’t done. I have read a couple that really moved me. In every case where the story worked that was some kind of twist that made the story work. I don’t know about the heroine be an adulterer. The concept has possibilty.
I don’t mind divorce or adultery in my historicals as long as there is a very good reason like this for them. Of course, back then, divorce and adultery by the woman just wasn’t acceptable. The man could do as he wanted, but the women were chattel and didn’t have any rights.
PS: I forgot to leave my email again.
kscathy@yahoo.com
I am really the time period you chose – the Victorian era – allows for divorce. After reading so many regencies where the hero or heroine was trapped in a miserable marriage that only ended when his/her spouse has died made me want to cry injustice at no rules allowing for a divorce, only an annulment if the marriage hasn’t been consummated. That is incredibly unfair!
As for adultery, in this case I don’t see it as hideous, because the heroine is desperate for love, and her relationship with her husband is estranged at the politest. A rekindling of passion and love is just what she needs, and since she did not intend this to be harmful for both parties, I can sympathize with her.
As long as the divorce is approached in a historically accurate manner, I’m fine with it. I don’t have a problem with adultery either. The more angst, the better.
I don’t mind a divorce in my historicals if there is a good reason for it. Most of the time though, the husband conveniently dies, so the heroine is left a widow and often free then to do whatever she wants, unless she has a family that controls her in some way.
June
I absolutely fell in love with all the characters in A Lady Never Lies and I can’t wait to read A Gentleman Never Tells. I don’t mind reading about divorce or adultery if it’s written right. We all have our faults and that’s what makes up each of our life stories. I can’t say as I blame Lilibet at all for any choice she’s made.
I love a good romance. Thanks for the giveaway. Please enter me.
I think divorce does have a place in historical romances. It did happen in some cases. It is common in our world today. So why not strike a balance and write about the difficulties obtaining a divorce throughout the 19th century for both men and women. I think it would make for great reading.
Thanks for the giveaway. I’ve never read this author’s work and this book sounds like a goody!
The book sounds awesome! I think divorce is okay in historical romance, however adultery is never okay in any time period!!! THanks for the chance to win this one.
I love scandalous love affair in a historical romance pages turning…and scorching hot. That’s my forté
There’s nothing wrong with writing about divorce in historicals. I know it didn’t happen much and it wasn’t talked about, but it was there.
I don’t think divorce is a problem, especially when the heroine (or the hero) has good reasons to want it (and it’s obvious Lilibet has good reasons). Adultery is a more delicate topic, of course. It has to be well-done… But I’ve already read and loved books in which there was an adultery (the husband was really bad!). I like that Roland refuses to sleep with her because it would have bad repercussions for her. He sounds like a hero I can love!
Thank you for the interesting post and for the giveaway.
Hm, I think I’d have to read the book to find out!
Just wanted to thank everyone for all the thoughtful responses – I love a topic with lots of opinions! I do hope you’ll give A Gentleman Never Tells a try and let me know what you think.