The Lord I Left

by Scarlett Peckham

January 27, 2020 · NYLA

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B+

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After reading a slew of perfectly adequate but largely forgettable romances lately, reading The Lord I Left was a nice, trope-tastic surprise. Granted, I’d sign up for pretty much any story featuring a snowy road trip, but I got a lot more than that by the end of this book.

Henry Evesham, Methodist preacher, former editor of a “evangelical news rag,” and a Lord Lieutenant tasked with investigating London’s sex trade, is saying his goodbyes to Elena Brearley, the owner of the “whipping house” at the center of the author’s The Secrets of Charlotte Street series.

Alice Hull, one of the house’s employees, interrupts them to tell her boss she needs to head home as soon as possible because she just got a letter saying her mother is at death’s door. Henry, coincidentally going the same way, offers her a ride. Alice is put off by Henry, but she accepts the offer since it’d be a lot faster than traveling by the mail coach. It’s winter, and they set off on a borrowed curricle on a journey supposed to take only a few short days.

Henry is leaving London in part because he wants some peace to write a report to Parliament with his recommendations to curb the sex trade. He’s a man divided, though: Going in, he felt sure that cracking down on sex work was the way to go. Partly due to Elena’s influence, he has come to see the issue as more complex, and he’s considering that “progressive reform” might be best. It’s a tough spot because either way he’s going to displease one of the factions.

The book is the third in the series, set in the 1750s, but it can be read as a standalone. Henry is an antagonist, of sorts, in the second book, but by the end of that book he’s shown as an honest, caring man trying to figure out what the right thing to do is, rather than a religious zealot, and he’s already questioning some of his black-and-white stances.

I will admit that I went in with some trepidation. Henry is described in the previous book as “a curate-turned-journalist with evangelical leanings.” That didn’t scream romance hero to me, but it turned out that The Lord I Left is my favorite book in the series so far. (Elena’s book is to be the fourth.)

Henry definitely won me over. He’s a genuinely kind and caring person, and he desperately wants to do the right thing. Henry’s faith runs deep, and he’s not a hypocrite. He also feels like an adorably eager puppy sometimes:

All day, he studied Alice like she was a verse of scripture he was trying to illuminate … He could not remember the last time he had met a person who made him contort his mind to comprehend her–to pin her down as this or that. There was a singularity to her that seemed to defy classification. An originality that was precious.

There’s a fair amount of religion and faith being discussed, with Henry often taken aback by Alice’s mostly opposite, secular views. I loved that Alice was a worthy debater, rebuffing and questioning Henry at every turn. The book is not an inspie, and not just because there are sex scenes. To the extent that there is a “message,” the message is one of tolerance, acceptance, and acknowledgement that there is more than one way to profess and live one’s faith.

“Anyway, Henry Evesham,” she whispered. “I shall not corrupt you further with my wicked tongue. But I might have enjoyed the chance.”

He did not answer her, for he was reciting prayers in his own head.

Asking his saviour why it was that if Alice Hull confessing her most private secrets to him was devilry, it had felt so much like grace.

Alice is not ashamed of being a sex worker, has a dim opinion of any organized religion, and thinks Henry’s ascetic ways are a complete waste of time and resources. Henry barely eats, adheres to a strict, punishing exercise schedule, and tries to quash his every sensual impulse. Virgin-hero fans, rejoice, because Henry definitely is a virgin, unlike Alice, who is frank about being sexually experienced from a young age.

Self-denial, she thinks, “must be some kind of predilection of the rich and educated.” Life is short, Alice reasons, and on Charlotte Street she was able to live hers on her own terms, seeking pleasure wherever she could find it:

She wanted a life like Elena’s. Freedom to rule over a kingdom of her own, surrounded by people who would delight in her eccentricity, rather than wishing it away.

Don’t we all, Alice!

Alice is also a person divided: she feels an enormous guilt that she should be grieving for her mother, but finds herself grieving far more for her life she’s leaving behind in London. She’s also growing to like Henry, much to her surprise.

Alice and Henry both feel the weight of being disappointments to their families, and both wish it hadn’t been so. They remain very loving and understanding toward their family members, regardless of the families’ views about their choices. Alice’s family thinks she’s in London training to be a regular governess and would rather have her return and marry a local man. Henry’s pompous father dislikes Methodism and would rather see Henry hold a position within the Church of England. A Lord Lieutenant, by the way, is a type of parliamentary deputy or emissary, not a nobility title; Henry’s family owns a factory and is every bit new money.

Here’s Henry listening to Alice explain that her family disapproves of her:

He felt foolish for thinking he had nothing in common with Alice Hull. For he knew exactly the combination of affection and pain in her voice.

I believe the story was stronger for showing a nuanced and “messy,” for lack of better word, relationship between parents and offspring, and other family dynamics.

As an aside, Alice is a gifted curser, and I was treated to some of the most colorful cursing I’ve seen in historical romance this side of “Egads!” One of her curses sent me down a rabbit hole of history of church relics, because at some point she exclaims, to Henry’s horror, “Foreskin of Christ!”

(I had never, ever, given any thought to that one, but sure enough through history dozens of churches in Europe have claimed to have “the” Holy Prepuce, as the relic was known, and one of the purported foreskins disappeared from an Italian village in the 1980s. There’s a whole book about it, which also touches on a bit of a conspiracy theory: that The Vatican might have orchestrated the disappearance as a way to… ahem, sheathe that embarrassing artifact once and for all.)

When matters come to a head (pun unintended) as they inevitably do, Henry thinks he can railroad Alice into marrying him, and Alice bristles at his presumption. This was one of my issues with the book: when they realize later on that yes, they can overcome hurdles to staying together, it feels a bit sudden. Societal and personal barriers to their happiness were set up in a very real way, but not dealt in a manner I found entirely satisfying. Both characters are seen setting their reservations aside largely off page, although in Henry’s case less so (he chooses a very real, definite way to cut off ties with some of the zealots and “frenemies” in his life.)

I also would have liked to see a bit more discussion about how they’d lead their future lives, especially because Henry, in essence, would have to go through a pretty significant change, taking on a path that would be very different from than the one he had pictured himself taking for most of the book. Until pretty late in the game, he still harbors some “savior” ideas.

The push and pull of Henry and Alice’s relationship, and their backgrounds, were in itself a nice way to show what I believe were some of the central discussions of their historical times: reason and faith, religion and dissent, and Alice’s secularism starting to become socially acceptable or even conceivable.

At its core, the book is about two seemingly different people finding a lot of common ground and falling in love amid messy family, friendship, and career dynamics. There was a lot to like and enjoy: plenty of funny and tender moments, thoughtful discussions, and some of my favorite setups in romance, including an “one room at the inn” scenario. It was the first book of 2020 to make a lasting impression. It gets a B plus from me.