This is the book that convinced me I don’t read Jo Goodman solely for the romance, because there was almost no “romance” in this one, yet I still really enjoyed it.

I’ve been listening to Goodman’s Compass Club quartet on audio, read expertly by Jenny Sterlin. The series revolves around four friends who were schoolmates together at Harrow, sworn enemies of the Bishops, a rival group.  As adults, they occasionally work for the British government through their contact, the mysterious Colonel Blackwood, and end up battling the nefarious Society of Bishops. The stories occur contemporaneously, which is great fun for the reader.

Everything I Ever Wanted is the third second book, the story of Matthew Forrester, Earl of Southerton (“South”) and actress India Parr. This book is very much like the second book (All I Ever Needed), in that the hero and heroine are both very good, nearly perfect, people, but the heroine finds herself dependent on some horrifically bad people and is reluctant — mainly to protect the hero, but also due in part to shame and learned helplessness — to reveal exactly who is oppressing her and why.

In both books, the conflict in the first half was mainly waiting for the heroine to Spit. It. Out. In the second half (maybe 1/3), it was external conflict –  getting the heroine’s situation fixed by neutering the villain.

If this make me sound critical, I don’t mean it to — I have now read four books by this author and I considered each one a delight. I love her writing. I feel liked I’ve been whisked back to Regency England more convincingly than most other historical romance authors I read. I also love the dialogue and the intelligence of the heroes and heroines. I guess we all have our fantasies: as I said in my review of All I Ever Needed, mine is living in a world where everybody is this good, smart, this interesting, this witty, and this well-spoken. Sigh.

I happen to also enjoy careful psychology in my romances, and in this book, as in All I Ever Needed, most of the action is really in the thoughts and dialogue of the hero and heroine. I find myself hanging on the edge of my seat to hear what the next move in one of their conversations is. It’s very detailed — some might find it labored — but I love it:

Smiling weakly, she accepted the glass and drank. “He thinks I’m guilty, doesn’t he?”

“It would be truer to say that he is still willing to be convinced otherwise.”

The laughter that bubbled to India’s lips held not a whit of good humor. She glanced at South uneasily.

“There is not very much difference there.”

“There is enough, India. Help me prove where your innocence lies.”

She did not know what to say to that. Had there ever been a time she could lay claim to innocence?

Yes, of course there had, but it was so very long ago that it seemed more often another person’s life. The glass in her hand was cool, and she held it against her temple for a moment, easing the growing ache just behind her eye.

“Is it a megrim?” asked South.

India shook her head and lowered the glass. “Nothing so wicked as that.” She looked up at him and asked frankly, “Why would you want to help me? If you are honest, you know you are only a little less certain of my guilt than the colonel. How can that be enough for you to want to do anything on my behalf?”

He hesitated. It was not merely that he wondered what she was prepared to hear, but that there were those things he was not necessarily prepared to admit. “Quid pro quo,” he said finally.

“What?”

“You may call it quid pro quo.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You extended your trust to me once,” he reminded her. “I would offer the same to you.”

“I see.” Was she disappointed? India didn’t know.

This novel verges into horror at points. The revelations of who has India under his thumb, what he did to her, and why he did it, shocked the heck out of me. I am not sure I have ever read anything darker in a romance novel. Even more interesting, and disturbing, was India’s compassion and defense of her tormentor.  She may have gone beyond the fine line of feminine stoicism and empathy and right into abject victimhood. I would have been happier if she showed more anger, more spark, more interest in her own welfare. Even her acting career seemed not to matter to her.

I said in the beginning that this isn’t much of a romance, and it isn’t. I honestly have no idea how these two fell in love, or when. I don’t think there is a single line of mental lusting, or even internal thoughts about love towards the other person. When they have sex, it’s about as sexy as an ob/gyn exam. India says “You will have me now.” And he does. End of story. I kind of like being let in on the feelings on the h/h when I read romance.  If you really enjoy courtship and sexual tension in your romances, this is not the book for you.

Everything I Ever Wanted worked for me as a compelling story about interesting characters. I look forward to reading the other two books in the series.