Desperate times call for feel-good romance novels. To Have and To Hoax is just what the doctor ordered: a gulp of serotonin disguised as a Regency romp. It isn’t a permanent escape from stress and fear, but hopefully it’ll help you forget your troubles for a few hours. It certainly did so for me.

Lord and Lady James Audley began their first year of marriage as besotted lovers. They ended their first year of marriage in a silent and simmering hostility. True, they married young — Violet at eighteen and James at twenty-three — and perhaps too soon, but their bitter stalemate isn’t the result of a petty lovers’ quarrel. Not that anyone knows why, since they’ve determinedly kept the cause of antagonism secret from society, friends, and the reader. Fast forward four years later and the state of affairs remains the same. They live in the same house, sleep in different beds, greet each other tersely, stage a show of amiability in society, and secretly wish that things were different. It’s not a war. Yet.

Bitterness can only build up for so long before it bubbles over the boiling point. When Violet receives word that James is unconscious after being thrown off a horse, she leaves London in disarray and panic. During a tavern stop, Violet is stunned to run into her hale and hearty husband. Shock turns into fury when the decidedly not unconscious James brushes aside her concern and implies that she shouldn’t have been informed of his injury in the first place. His callous disregard for Violet’s terror makes her storm off in a fury. Bitterness has officially boiled over.

It was bad enough that it hadn’t even occurred to Penvale to write to tell her of James’s improved condition—although, she was forced to admit, she had dashed off in such a hurry after receiving his first note that she likely would have missed it. But that her husband—her husband!—had seemed disgruntled that Penvale had written at all . . . It was . . . well . . .

Intolerable.

Yes, it was intolerable. And Violet wasn’t going to stand for it any longer.

In her infinite wisdom, Violet decides that it’s time for payback. Enlisting an actor to serve as a physician, she feigns consumption (a little too topical and maybe ill-humored considering current events, but I rolled with it). Why? She thinks that if her husband were to be put in the position of a worrying spouse, he’d realize that she had every right to be informed about his health. Oh, and maybe Violet wants her husband to suffer, just a little. That would be an added bonus. James quickly catches on to her deceit and concocts his own revenge. And so the battle of wits commences, each spouse devising increasingly ridiculous ploys to win their private game. All’s fair in love and war, and this is both.

I know what you’re thinking. Wouldn’t well-adjusted and rational adults communicate their feelings — instead of waging a prank war — to improve their relationship? Well, yes. But that assumption implies that Violet and James are well-adjusted and rational adults. I assure you, they are not. This is not to say that I think they’re childish or terrible people. They’re smart, stubborn, and unwilling to sacrifice their pride to mend frayed relationships. They both think they’re in the right, and Violet is too hurt to correct James’s misapprehension about The Incident. Four years of embittered and stilted hellos haven’t improved matters; a status quo of hostile silence waved goodbye to any possibility of “well-adjusted and rational” communication. If you are the kind of reader who despises conflicts easily solved by communication, this isn’t the book for you.

“I appreciate your concern for my fragile ego,” he said, “but there’s no need to lie about my stamina.” He lowered his voice then, speaking so softly that she did not think even West, closest to them, could hear. “It’s impressive enough without embellishment, as I believe you know.”

Violet leaned closer as well, their faces now mere inches apart. “I am going to stab you with a hairpin if you do not remove your arm from my waist.”

To Have and to Hoax walks a razor-thin line between amusing and excruciating. The exact same premise could’ve been executed horribly. At what point is a trick humiliating instead of funny? Thankfully, the book neatly navigates near-disaster and falls into the “amusing” side of the coin. I attribute the success of execution to the following factors:

• Violet and James excel at planning ingenious schemes but they’re also terrible at executing them. At no point are their targets fooled. Their inability to successfully deceive each other sets the game on an even playing field. Yes, Violet is the first person to do something immature, silly, and potentially hurtful. But James instantly sees through it and is emboldened to retaliate in a scheme that Violet sees through immediately. And so the cycle repeats. It becomes a game of “he knew that she knew that he knew the truth.” The antics are amusing only because everyone is aware of what’s really going on.
• Violet and James are acting ridiculous. They know it, their friends know it, the reader knows it, the book knows it. The narrative regularly reminds the reader — via long-suffering friends who are reluctantly enlisted into the fray — that what the couple really needs is a soul-searching conversation, not a merry-go-round of one-upmanship. The refreshing self-awareness makes it palatable for me to enjoy the ride. Yes, their tricks are immature and would vanish after a heart-to-heart, but it’s so dang fun! Absurdity works when it’s self-aware.
• The real heart of this book isn’t the battle of wits. It’s the tangible and heart-wrenching emotions Violet and James wrestle with as they relitigate the past. Their cleverly-designed machinations come from a place of regret, grief, and pain. While subterfuge doesn’t solve anything, it allows them to interact in close quarters for the first time in four years. Closeness, even closeness caused by foolish trickery, is the perfect opportunity to finally let past grudges die. Then only can they rebuild a healthy relationship based on mutual trust and affection.

“I thought I wanted to punish my husband. But more than that, I want to make him want me again.”

To Have and to Hoax isn’t a flawless book. There are constant references to Violet’s bluestocking nature and scientific interests that feel like window dressing (they exist, but aren’t explored enough to flesh out a fully-realized portrait of Violet). I was skeptical that their estrangement could survive for four years when they lived in the same household (surely the unwavering hostility would make more sense if they led completely separate lives). The narrative is heavy on banter/emotion and light on setting/atmosphere (there are balls and such, but the writing chooses to focus on dialogue at the expense of everything else). The style is recognizably British historical romance (with a central romantic arc and open-door sex scenes), but it’s closer to Julia Quinn than Joanna Bourne. If I had to pick one historical romance author comp most similar to To Have and to Hoax, it would be Julia Quinn.

Despite all these points, I adored To Have and to Hoax. It made me giggle constantly during a week when I had little to smile about. I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone; if the antics sound juvenile and infuriating, then you won’t like the story. But if you’re in the mood to escape into a Regency romp and swoon over a married couple falling in love again, I recommend To Have and to Hoax as your escape of choice.