He’s a dissipated rake with a terrible reputation, punishing himself and his society for a scandal that shattered his innocence ten years earlier. Much of the narrative centers on Elliot, a tortured hero of the “I’m not good enough for her” variety, and at first he’s right – he isn’t. She trusts her story and her ability to tell it, and unwinds it at a pleasant, leisurely pace. Unlike many new authors, Carlyle does not fall into the traps of hyperactive or kitchen sink-style plotting. I found myself reading slowly to savor the descriptions and the conversations. It’s one of those books where you can feel the weather, hear the household sounds, and see the textures of clothing, drapes, and furniture. Liz Carlyle has created a memorable hero and heroine, and placed them against a rich backdrop of life in Regency London and a warm country household. A case of mistaken identity allows him to keep coming back, but how long can the charade last, and what will Evie and her family do when they find out who he really is? Once there, however, Elliot is drawn not only to Evie but to her whole way of life, so different from his own life of joyless drinking, gambling, and carousing with mistresses in London. He finds himself there by accident after losing his way in the rain. My False Heart is a delicious story you can immerse yourself in.Įlliot Armstrong, the marquis of Rannoch, similarly immerses himself in the warmth and vitality of Evangeline van Artevalde’s unusual household in the English countryside. It’s the entire sensory experience, in other words, not just the fleeting taste. If I had to equate reading My False Heart to a culinary experience, it would be that of making real hot chocolate, beginning with milk in a saucepan and real cocoa, ending with a big fluffy marshmallow, then sitting under a blanket on the couch with a mugful, watching the fire in the hearth. And some are more substantial treats, where it’s not just what you are tasting but how you partake of it. Others are wonderful confections with spun sugar or air inside.
Some romances are like popcorn – a light snack before you move onto something more substantial.
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