Evelyn Maltravers understands exactly how little she's worth on the marriage mart. As an incurable bluestocking from a family tumbling swiftly toward ruin, she knows she'll never make a match in a ballroom. Her only hope is to distinguish herself by making the biggest splash in the one sphere she excels: on horseback. In haute couture. But to truly capture London's attention she'll need a habit-maker who's not afraid to take risks with his designs—and with his heart.
Half-Indian tailor Ahmad Malik has always had a talent for making women beautiful, inching his way toward recognition by designing riding habits for Rotten Row's infamous Pretty Horsebreakers—but no one compares to Evelyn. Her unbridled spirit enchants him, awakening a depth of feeling he never thought possible.
But pushing boundaries comes at a cost and not everyone is pleased to welcome Evelyn and Ahmad into fashionable society. With obstacles spanning between them, the indomitable pair must decide which hurdles they can jump and what matters most: making their mark or following their hearts?
I started this book without reading what it was about specifically, and I immediately fell into the story and in love with the characters. Evelyn is a fascinating blend of confidence and humility, genuine to a fault, and devoted to her family. She's written off by many as a bluestocking, someone plain and not worth a second glance, but Ahmad senses right away the something special in her that makes her a true diamond. I loved their friendship which grew naturally, underlied by simmering chemistry. Ahmad's conflicted identity and his blend of ethnicities prevent him from having a sense of belonging in society, yet Evie's true vision of him helps him find that belonging with her, though it seems impossible to him with the obstacles in their path that he feels cannot change. I loved the hope Evie maintains in spite of the difficult situation, and her determination in solving problems that she has nobody else to solve. This book takes the reader behind the scenes of the working middle class
and the complicated social dynamics with those above and below them on
the social stepladder. The historical details delve into the gritty and
eccentric, playing with but not crossing the line into content that
would make me put the book down. It made me appreciate the author's
research and the realistic portrayal of the variety of lives and
circumstances.
A surge of disappointment dimmed Evelyn’s smile. It
occurred to her, quite suddenly, how little she knew about him.
Of course, he must have a sweetheart. Heaven’s sake, he was
probably married! Just because he didn’t wear a wedding band didn’t mean he didn’t
have a wife—and probably several children besides. It was none of her affair.
She turned back to the shelves. “In that case . . .
What about a romance?”
“No romances,” he said darkly.
“No?” Was he one of those stuffy men who disapproved of
romance novels? Many did. Even so, she’d expected better of him. A man who
designed clothing so beautifully shouldn’t be averse to sentiment. “What about
this one, then? Silas Marner. It only came out last
year.”
Mr. Malik drew it from the shelf. It was bound in brown
cloth with gilt lettering on the spine. “What’s it about?”
“An individual and his place in society. The hero of the
story is a weaver. A man with no family to speak of, who keeps himself apart
from his community.”
“A bit too close to home.” He returned the book to the
shelf. “She needs something bright. Something to boost her spirits.”
Evelyn wondered why. Was she ill? Melancholic? Had she had
some sort of disappointment? “In that case”—she reached for a Jane Austen novel—“I
recommend this one.”
He took it from her, giving the title a dubious glance. “Northanger Abbey.”
“It’s Miss Austen’s satire of a Gothic novel. A vastly
entertaining read. It should take her mind off whatever it is that’s troubling
her.”
Mr. Malik thumbed through the pages. His expression was
doubtful.
“I confess,” she said “there is a
romance in the story, but it’s witty rather than mawkish. I can’t imagine she
won’t enjoy it.”
“It’s still a romance.”
A cough sounded nearby, along with the thump of books being
shoved back on a shelf. It was a reminder that she and Mr. Malik weren’t alone.
Far from it. The shop seemed to be growing busier.
Evelyn sunk her voice. “What does she have against romance?”
“Nothing,” he replied, his tone equally low. “I just don’t
want her to get any ideas.”
“Ideas about what?”
“About happily-ever-afters.”
The wide swell of Evelyn’s skirts brushed his leg. She
belatedly realized that she’d drawn closer to him. That their conversation had
taken on an air of intimacy. “You object to them?”
“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he said.
She gave him an amused look. “Is that what they are?”
“In my experience.”
“How illuminating.”
“Is it?” He turned another page.
“Indeed. You’re a cynic, Mr. Malik. I wouldn’t have thought
it.”
“I’m a realist.”
“Happily-ever-afters are real. For
some people, at least. And even if they weren’t . . . A little
romance never hurt anyone.”
His eyes lifted to hers. There was an expression in them
that was hard to read. “You think not?”
Butterflies unfurled their wings in her stomach. The same feeling
she’d had when she’d first touched his hand. A fluttering, breathless
sensation. As if her corset had been laced too tightly. “No,” she said. And
then she thought of Fenny. “Not in a novel, anyway.”
His mouth curled into the barest hint of a smile.
Once again, she had the unsettling sensation that he could
read her mind. She took a step back from him. “Forgive me, but I mustn’t
linger. My maid is waiting for me.”
He closed the book, clutching it in his hand. “Thank you
for your help.”
“It was my pleasure. I hope your . . .” Wife?
Sweetheart? “I hope she enjoys the story.”
“My cousin.”
Evelyn nearly stumbled in the process of taking another
step backward. “I beg your pardon?”
“The book is for my cousin.”
His words penetrated before she could school her features.
She was certain an expression of relief passed over her face.
She was equally certain that he saw it.
Heaven only knew what he must think.
“Your cousin. Well, that’s . . . that’s
splendid.” Splendid? Evelyn’s eyes closed against a
swell of embarrassment. She was quite ready to disappear into a hole in the
earth. She took another step back. “Please convey my regards.”
His smile broadened. “I shall.”
From THE SIREN OF SUSSEX published by
arrangement with Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright ©
2021 by Mimi Matthews.
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