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Title: Your Scandalous Ways
Author: Loretta Chase
Publication Info: Avon 2008
ISBN: 006123124X
Genre: Historical: European
1. OH MY GOD THE HEROINE IS A WHORE YOU GUYS THIS IS TOTALLY GROSS.
2. Loretta Chase has lost her zing.
The first criticism is something I can empathize with, even though I strongly disagree with it. I love Francesca because she’s an unrepentant, magnificent, ruinously expensive whore, and because she doesn’t mince words about it. On the other hand, I can understand people finding that utterly repulsive, an affront to their moral sensibilities. I’d feel the same way if I had to read a romance novel featuring, say, right-wing talk radio hosts, or Carrot Top. We all have our lines in the sand, and apparently, Francesca crosses it for many people. And what’s more, I love James, the hero, because Chase sets up his character and motivations in such a fashion that he recognizes Francesca as a kindred spirit, thus bypassing most beautifully the whole “You’re a whore, and therefore untrustworthy in every way” conflict I was dreading when I first picked up this book.
Anyway, I could go on and on about the unfair standards we hold heroines up to, but for now, I’ll just say that the fact that a heroine who unabashedly breaks the rules and gets away with it is given infinitely less slack than a hero who does the same thing tells us every bit as much about the reader and the dominant cultural mindset than the book itself.
The second criticism, however, addresses something I have observed in the last few books Chase has released. Not Quite a Lady, in particular, had me checking the cover continually to make sure Loretta Chase was actually the author, because it was so shoddily constructed and lacking in Chase’s signature sparkle and vigor. Is the zing of her best work fully restored in this book? Not really. But it is present in substantial amounts throughout the book, and while the ending is a touch too neat and the villains lack complexity (which is a shame, because Chase has written some damn fine villains), she makes some highly unusual choices and pulls them off with great panache.
The plot goes thusly:
Two whores meet in Venice. (This could almost be the opening line for a Shakespearean comedy, couldn’t it? Except it’s trochaic, not iambic.) One is a jewel thief and spy and whores for his government; the other is a disgraced divorcée exiled from polite English society who whores to secure her own future. Whore #1 is tasked to steal some Supah Sekrit papers from Whore #2. They really don’t want to fall in love because it’s bad form. Whore #1 wants to marry an innocent milksop miss to counteract the darkness and moral ambiguity he’s been immersed in for far too long, and knows he’ll have to betray Whore #2, which doesn’t exactly thrill him. Whore #2, on the other hand, knows Whore #1 can’t afford her. 
That, and her vile ex-husband left her with beaucoup de scarring in the squishy bits of her psyche where trust, love and security reside. And then people try to kill them, because that’s what you get when there are Capers Afoot, and lots of people are tossed into canals, because that’s what you get when there are Capers Afoot (A-boat?) in Venice. But the bad guys are caught in the end, and, being exceedingly naughty in our sight, snuff it. A gratuitously happy ending is presented to us in an epilogue, wherein I almost expect rainbows to start shooting out of people’s asses, it’s that sappy-shiny-perfect (even if it does have some clever repartee), and I really wish romance novels will stop with that shit, already—but that deserves a separate rant of its own.
Francesca Bonnard is one of the most unusual heroines I’ve encountered in Romancelandia: she’s been deeply damaged by her husband’s treatment of her, and as a consequence, her skittishness about falling in love and allowing any man to have ultimate power over her is genuine and consistent. She sincerely loved her handsome diplomat husband, so when she found out about that he’d never been faithful to her and cheated on him in retaliation, only to have him divorce her for her one infidelity, her life was, in a literal way, wrenched away from her. But instead of playing the martyr or retreating to the country to lick her wounds, Francesca decides to become a courtesan—a very expensive, very successful courtesan. And what’s more, she decides to steal some highly incriminating letters from her husband to ensure her continued safety and to rub her husband’s nose in her newly-chosen profession by writing to him periodically about her amorous conquests on the Continent, as well as the shockingly expensive jewelry her lovers shower on her.
Francesca is, in short, fantastic. Magnificent. Easily one of my favorite romance heroines of all time. She’s strong-willed and strong-minded, and what’s more, she’s effective with it. So many romance heroines are presented as being competent and (gag) feisty and full of strength, only to be systematically emasculated by the story so she can be proven wrong and then rescued by the hero—even in really excellent romance novels, like The Spymaster’s Lady by Joanna Bourne. Not so Francesca. Every time James tries to pull one over her, she pulls a judo move on him and flips him onto his back before he quite knows what happened. She genuinely outwits him a time or two, and instead of setting up an adversarial relationship in which the hero is clearly the protector and the heroine’s attempts to subvert him lead only to further danger, the story features two true equals, worthy adversaries who never quite successfully get the upper hand on each other. When Francesca outwits James, he’s filled with admiration for her—and so am I, because it’s so rare to have a romance heroine who’s genuinely clever. I’m so tired heroines who are presented to the reader as the smartest biped to promenade around Almack’s, only to have the author show, over and over and over again, that her particular hamster is sleeping at the wheel. Francesca doesn’t have a hamster powering her brain. Perhaps something more like a devious robot ninja.
Oh, come on, if I didn’t have at least one of these cockeyed analogies in my review, it wouldn’t be the same, and you know it.
Francesca also refuses to portray herself as some sort of wounded, misunderstood soul, which only underscores the pathos of her situation. Her choice to be a high-priced courtesan is an expression of her desire to control every aspect of her intimate interactions with men, as well as an attempt to free herself from depending on a man for security, either emotional or financial. Even the way she refuses to paint herself for anything else other than a courtesan is a defensive move, designed to defuse any barbs slung her way, much in the way an overweight girl will make a joke about the size of her ass before anyone else gets there—and make it funnier and more cutting. This exchange, in particular, is telling; it takes place when Francesca is retrieved from the canal, shivering and dressed only in a transparent chemise:
“You’re creating a diversion, all right,” [James] said. “You’re wearing a shift that’s soaked through. You might as well be wearing nothing. And everybody’s looking.”
“That will never do,” she said. “I’m a harlot. They must pay to look.”
Even better, Francesca doesn’t have a problematic sex life, and she doesn’t find True Luuuuurrrve because James turns out to have the one and only cock in all of creation capable of giving her orgasms. She enjoys sex, and she feels lustful when she notices a beautiful male form. (One of my favorite lines in the book is when Francesca says to James “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” The inversion of gender tropes and the switching of the focus of the gaze makes me profoundly happy in the pantalones.) Francesca gets an inkling that what she feels for James is out of the norm, however, when the sex isn’t just excellent—it’s extraordinary. In short, the experience that’s reserved for showing slutty heroes that He’s Found the One is the exact same one used for a slutty heroine, and it works.
And I think that’s why I’m somewhat disappointed by the readers who seem to dismiss Francesca as an unworthy heroine simply because she’s a whore who isn’t repentant for her actions or condemned by the characters who serve as the ultimate moral compass—James, in fact, tells Francesca that if he can’t keep her interest, it’ll bloody well serve him right to be a cuckold, which just about knocked me on my ass with glee. Francesca becomes a prostitute in a way that’s completely in keeping with her character and motivations, and her lack of shame about it is refreshing. None of the same readers who are bothered by Francesca seem similarly bothered by the way James whores himself and calls himself such. Part of it may be related to the fact that James is doing it for King and Country and not filthy lucre, but I feel like Chase manages to set up Francesca’s circumstances in a very sympathetic way. Mostly, I think, readers tend to be much harder on heroines because they’re simultaneously placeholders and competition, with the added complication of not being the object of desire the way heroes tend to be.
James is a worthy partner for Francesca, though because he’s set in a somewhat more conventional mold, I’m not quite as gleeful over his development as I am over the flaming hoops Chase has made the genre conventions governing heroines jump through for this particular book. James’ brutal honesty about what he does and the methods he chooses to employ are refreshing, and I greatly enjoy the fact that he never judges Francesca by a different standard than he does himself. It’s to Chase’s credit that she makes this egalitarian honesty so much a part of James’ nature that I never pause and wonder if this would’ve been a convincing attitude for a man of that time, because she makes it clear that he is not an ordinary man.
Chase’s knack for wry observations and witty banter stand this book in good stead, too. Several bits made me laugh out loud, such as this observation from Francesca, when she swoons after running too much:
She’d fainted because she was not used to running, Francesca told them as they fussed over her in the gondola. (…) “Have you ever run in stays?” she said to James. “Oh, why do I ask you? Of course you have. But you’re a man, and your lungs are larger.
This book isn’t quite perfect, however. For one, I feel that Chase’s prose has gotten choppier over the years, and it’s not an improvement. Her current style doesn’t quite flow in the same way it used to, and I miss that. I also wanted more book. I wanted more detail, more depth of emotion, more details on what Francesca went through during and right after the divorce, and James’ (mis)adventures.
The villains aren’t especially interesting, either. In the past, Chase has made the effort to give us a glimpse into the villains’ motivations, making them, if not outright sympathetic, then at least characters in their own right. The bad guys in this story, however, lack depth. The female villain is a screaming bundle of irrationality, poor breeding and homicidal urges; the male villain, Francesca’s ex-husband, is a scheming, cold-hearted, voracious predator. They weren’t particularly scary to me, and they were never any genuine threat to the safety and sanity of the protagonists. This is a shame, because there’s so much delicious territory to be exploited by a villain who’s genuinely scary, who actually makes you doubt whether the protagonists will survive him, despite knowing there will an HEA waiting for you by the end of the book.
And lastly, I didn’t particularly enjoy some aspects of the ending. Certain bits made sense in the context of the plot, but other bits of Happy Ending were gratuitous and pushed me from feeling satisfied to mildly incredulous. Srsly, why do romances insist on making everything nauseatingly perfect for their characters in the happy ending? Authors: it’s OK for the protagonists to not get every single goddamn thing they want. I just want a solid reassurance that they’ll be happy. In fact, knowing that there are one or two things off-kilter makes the sweet parts even sweeter. You don’t want to douse a decadent brownie with maple syrup; you want to complement it with some slightly tart berries, or pair it with the subtle sweetness of freshly-whipped cream, or the mellow accents of vanilla ice-cream.
All in all, though, these flaws are inconsequential. Your Scandalous Ways is a fantastically entertaining book with a heroine who quickly shot to one of my top spots for all-time favorite and a hero who matches her in every way. If you’ve enjoyed Chase in the past but have found her last couple of efforts somewhat lackluster, I highly recommend that you pick this up.
This book is available in mass market paperback from Amazon and Powell’s, or rented from Paperspine.
I didn’t think she sleep with the prince either. I was under the impression she faked it to tease James.
Ditto to Ana and Kukulcan girl – I was pretty sure that she’d set it up to look like she’d slept with the Prince, and James fell for the deception. From the way the Prince actually acted, though, and especially how easy it was for Giulietta to get him so quickly afterwards, it seemed clear they hadn’t actually slept toether.
I haven’t read the book, but from the review and the comments here some bits sound awfully similar to No Man’s Mistress written by Mary Balogh. Not the plot so much, but the HEA and the protector who wasn’t.
Candy – not true. I know what the hell is wrong with you! Just kidding. I think Not Quite a Lady had a personal impact on me and therefore it maybe clouded my judgment of the book overall. I know Robin is less than enthralled with NQaL as well. You are not alone in the wilderness. I think that there are a couple of others with you.
As for Your Scandalous Ways, I agree with your assessment of Francesca’s ambivalence toward her livelihood. After all, she was engaged in this constant oneupmanship with her ex husband. Everytime she had sex with a man for money, I wondered if she felt the personal degradation of being thrown away by her ex. There was a duality there and I think one that is very insightful.
For me, Your Scandalous Ways, even with its Care Bear ending (tm Mrs. Giggles), was the book of the year so far.
I enjoyed this book, but I had some issues with it. Candy said: Her current style doesn’t quite flow in the same way it used to, and I miss that. I also wanted more book. I wanted more detail, more depth of emotion, more details on what Francesca went through during and right after the divorce, and James’ (mis)adventures. This is something I noticed when reading Claudia Dain’s The Courtesan’s Daughter. She told me that she wrote that as a pure romp, that it wasn’t supposed to be deep and emotional, and I got that feeling from YSW as well. Written as a romp and it skimmed all the feelings. I like angst, personally, and there could have been deeper evaluation Francesca’s divorce, or of James’ feelings about whoring himself out or being tortured, but everything was very surface instead. Now, that might be more realistic than the Angsty McAngst of, say, Phury in the latest Ward that I’m not reading, but I like me some angst, so this bothered me. Esp. since Chase CAN do angst so well.
My other huge problem: Jill Myles said: Also, the big reveal of her elderly lover being not quite who we think he is…I thought that was terribly disappointing because it really took the ‘teeth’ out of Francesca being a whore. It was like we were getting the cleaned up version of a whore heroine. I wanted it to be a bit more realistic, I guess. And Kukulcan girl said: But Chase took care of that problem by making Francesca’s most recent “protector†not really her protector, and we don’t meet, see, or hear about any of her other clients, so there wasn’t that ick factor in the book. Yes, Francesca was a dirty dirty whore, but not, like, really. Because we don’t hear the names of any of her lovers, we don’t see them (like we do with James in the Prologue). All we see are her jewels and her thoughts about the fact that she’d been doing it for less than five years. So while, yes, she was a whore, I feel we really get gypped out of believing it. And the big reveal about Magny bugged the shit out of me. It would have made it much better if he HAD been her protector.
Lacey said: Francesca suddenly sleeps with the prince, mainly to punish James and knowing that her friend likes the prince. If she HAD, that would have fixed my problem above, but I didn’t read it like that. I’m with the other commenters who say it was all a hoax to piss off James.
I have not read the book, or anything by Loretta Chase – yet. I have over 100 books in my TBR pile, so maybe sometime next year.
I did note in the review that you were unhappy with the HEA. Maybe some of you would be interested in reading a highly acclaimed, non-fiction book that might clear things up called Other Powers by Barbara Goldsmith.
The central figures in the above book are Victoria Woodhull and her sister, Tennie C. The backdrop is Victorian America, spiritualism, the woman’s movement (and split), the sensational trial of Henry Ward Beecher, prostitution, etc. If you know anything about these two women you will know that Tennie was sold into prostitution by her father, Victoria may have dabbled in it when it suited her needs (she knew that her father intended to sell her into prostitution as well but married a doctor at the age of 15 thinking she would be safe, alas, not so). Both women defied conventions and moved in the highest circles of New York society. Victoria ran a campaign for President in 1872 with the smear of Free Sex dogging her, spiritualism supporting her. Eventually she had to take Tennie and flee the country, to protect her sister from arrest. They landed in England, both would eventually marry very rich men (one had a title) and Victoria , ostensibly gave up spiritualism and became a Roman Catholic.
So what I am saying is, basically, it doesn’t sound like the outcome of Chase’s book is all so remote a possibility when judged against the reality of some very strong-minded women!
P.S. I much prefer the idea of a strong-minded courtesan who calls the shots, than that of women being raped, which forms the background of so many historical novels by authors I won’t name.
This book was a big disappointment to me.
While I have no problem with heroines who are whores and (as a reader), I am also able to suspend my ‘real world’ disbelief far enough to accept a storyline that says being a whore is just a huge bag of empowering fun for the women involved, this particular book just didn’t have me believing in Francesca. I thought she was all talk and no action, and it got old fast.
She simply couldn’t hold her own against James. The End. James got the upper hand every time. So I naturally compared this duo to Jessica and Lord Dain; now, THEY were great equals in word and deed. James and Francesca? Not so much. Francesca was the so-called greatest courtesan in Europe, yet she lost her emotional and sexual footing over and over again to the same man? (James had it bad too, but he kept his composure, etc. By contrast, Francesca? Well … I like to think that a woman who could earn such an amazing reputation for whoring would, for example: a.) win ANY sexual bet put forth in a gondola and b.) not start crying in a public place because it’s all so! beautiful! in the moonlight!)
Yeah, I thought Francesca’s side of things was actually fairly sad to read.
Plus, the whole “damning and important papers” plot device was dull and repetitive—and if I’m caring about the plot in a romance novel, it must be because the romance isn’t interesting me very much.
Please don’t throw anything at me: this was my first Loretta Chase book. I thought it was a wonderful introduction to her writing, and I absolutely loved Francesca and James. I had absolutely no problem with her day job (or night job, as it was). The dialogue was fantastic and I thought that the strength of Francesca was fantastic. She was brilliant, and Ms. Chase showed us that brilliance.
However, I was sorry we didn’t get more of Francesca’s villainous ex-husband because I thought he was infinitely more interesting than Marta Fazi. She vagely reminded me of something out of James Bond, and if her name was more like Darea Gioiello I might have fallen over laughing.
I also was not happy with the cute-overload wrap up. Yes, I know that bunnies and puppies weren’t involved, but it was too much anvil over the head for me.
I am now delighting in Mr. Impossible and will definitely read other Loretta Chase books.
Candy, great review.
I love Loretta Chase and expected to love this book…but didn’t. I’m still trying to figure out why. I probably need to read it again to really get it all.
Most of the people who rave about this book in online reviews say they love it because Francesca was an unabashed courtesan who loved her life, embraced her sexuality, etc. I never believed that F. loved her life, and a lot of that came out in the comparison of her to Giuletta. I don’t think Francesca liked her “job” – though she may have liked that it brought her some financial security. I thought one of the more telling moments was when Giuletta said that F. didn’t like men while G did – and how true that rang. I also thought that Francesca started weeping in that tower because she couldn’t choke back her pain any longer. The beauty triggered the release. I did not read that as a happy moment for her at all.
Like Candy, I think all her statements about being a whore were defensive in nature – say it before someone else can. Actually, Candy, your review was very helpful. I do think Francesca was very ambivalent about her life and lifestyle – while Giuletta came across as really liking it.
In some ways though, I think the hero and heroine would be happier if they did NOT return to England to live.
FWIW – I LOVED Lord Perfect. I can’t think of a novel by Loretta that I didn’t like on at least one level.
I picked up Lord of Scoundrels because of this site and fell in love with Loretta Chase. Consequently, I picked up every Chase novel on the shelf at my local Half-Price Books (all of three, but still) and Her Scandalous Ways was one of them. I just finished it and didn’t even realize until sometime last week that it was just released.
I agree that it wasn’t as strong as LoS or Not Quite a Lady, but I did enjoy it very much. I agree with your review, Candy, pretty much point for point.
One, it rushed the meet to romance to HEA. Okay, I get that in some cases, between some people, they just know in a very short period of time that this is the one for him/her. But there were some fairly serious issues that stood between these two, like his early deceptions and disguises and his intent to worm his way into her life to steal the letters. This is a woman who was incredibly betrayed by the only two men she’d ever loved and, yet, she got over what she considered a huge betrayal by James in ridiculously short order. And you can’t overlook the fact that she is notorious and that having her as his wife should have made it so that he was not only banished from Society, but made into a laughingstock, as was the case for Bathsheba’s first husband in Lord Perfect. Seriously, Bathsheba only came from a notorious family and had never actually done anything scandalous herself—Francesca is actually a whore. Shouldn’t it have given James some pause that he wouldn’t ever really be able to go home again? (Yes, that is all neatly tied up in the epilogue, but the characters weren’t supposed to know that it would be, right?)
Two, it doesn’t really delve to much into the emotional landscape of the characters. We’re told that this happened or that happened because it passes through the character’s mind, but we don’t really see how any of these past issues affect them and, given the traumatic nature of some of the issues, shouldn’t there have been a little more of that? This is very unlike how it was with Lord of Scoundrels, where what happened to the hero in his past informed every interaction that he had with people and, only because he began to allow himself to see some of these issues through more the objective and loving eyes of the heroine, did he begin to let go of the pain and heal. That’s what made that book so satisfying for me.
Three, the HEA was over the top. They get together and all is right in the world and no one dares to insult or impugn her because she has a title now, etc etc ad nauseum. Meanwhile, the one thing I did want to see, read, and/or know about—James’s mother’s reaction to the news that her son is marrying a Great and Notorious Whore—is not even hinted at other than his besotted assurances that mama will love her. I don’t see why they couldn’t have married, loved each other deeply, and been mostly happy even though they were not considered respectable (at least to British society) and his mother never really warmed up to her, even if she had more manners than to say so openly. That would have seemed much more realistic to me.
All that said, I still would give this book an A-, too.
Re Francesca’s clients, or lack thereof, she does discuss one of her previous lovers with G in one of the first chapters (a marchese, I forget the name). I don’t think it was necessary to actually have a scene which shows her with one of them – it’s clear that the Count was not the only man she’d been with since the divorce (and she did have an affair while married, as well). As I read it, she was in the process of deciding which of several men to choose when she first ran into James. I fel she was a believable courtesan as well as an ambivelant one; the story would not have worked for me otherwise, I think, because it would have been much more difficult to buy into her choice to give up that life if she’d truly enjoyed it was Giulietta did.
The epilogue should have ended with them happy in Venice and enjoying the company of G, the prince and the putti. The England stuff was excessive.
I started writing more about HEAs, realistic, non-realistic and otherwise, and it’s starting to grow out of control. I’ll be posting something about this later today. Commenters: some of your comments will be excerpted, and if I disagree with you, please know that I’m not picking on you, I just want to explore your ideas further and poking at them to see what falls out.
One more observation about Francesca’s whoredom: While I do wish Francesca hadn’t been so conservatively written in some ways—I wouldn’t have minded if Chase had made it clear that she’d slept with Prince Lurenze, for example—I think Chase has pushed the envelope about as far as most readers are willing to take from a heroine. The trouble is, of course, that she doesn’t push quite far enough for more adventurous types, the ones who really want to witness some rules being broken. (Skanky hero sex with a non-heroine is just fine, but skanky heroine sex with a non-hero is, as far as I know, OK only in erotica or erotic romance. Sigh.)
Willa: thanks for the statistics on prostitution and sex abuse. I agree that this is true for contemporary society, but I’m wondering what the differences would be for Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries. Sexual abuse no doubt existed back in the day, but I’m wondering if poverty, period, was more the driving force. And from what little I know, some of the highly-ranked courtesans seemed to take on the work with eyes more-or-less open, as a means to gain autonomy and power. To have Francesca do the same thing—with the delightful side-effect of spiting her husband—is pretty convincing to me.
From what I vaguely understand, with the extremely limited options for employment for women, even the (lower-class) working women often couldn’t afford to live unless they had a protector of some sort, and the type of protector they had limited their career options further (no sluts can be a scullery maid in MY respectable house!). The only women who could be even slightly analagous to a modern single career woman would be courtesans.
Francesca, as a divorced woman (alimony? in 1820-something?) with no family to fall back on, had the option of becoming a high-class courtesan or starving (leading her to becoming a low-class prostitute).
Governess? Companion? Teacher in a respectable school for girls? Chatelaine for a respectable family? Not for a divorcee. She could only be dependant on friends or relatives, and hope their generosity extended until her death.
Tina C: In your points one and two, I think you’ve expanded on what I was feeling after reading this book.
You said:
We’re told that this happened or that happened because it passes through the character’s mind, but we don’t really see how any of these past issues affect them and, given the traumatic nature of some of the issues, shouldn’t there have been a little more of that?
And I agree, even beyond the emotional issues. This was, for me, one of those books where you got told, not shown.
I wrote that I just didn’t believe Francesca was believable as a great courtesan; I hope it’s clear that this is NOT because I didn’t see her in bed with the prince or some other client. I understand that’s unlikely stuff in a romance novel. The believability was lost upon seeing her with James, who seemed to immediately reduce the internal world of this “great courtesan” to absolute turmoil. Based on all the verbal buildup, I expected her to be made of stronger stuff; she wasn’t. (Consider: Jessica Trent is an almost spinster who collects antiques. She shoots a man. Francesca Bonnard is a famous courtesan with a tattoo. She … has a good cry in a tower? Oh.)
But maybe I’m being too harsh!
Ditto. I was excited at the premise. I love the idea of a courtesan heroine, but the execution seemed very fluffy and farcical to me. I just wasn’t feeling a depth of emotion, and by the end I was skimming to finish. I recently purchased this book along with several highly recommended Regencies (or almost Regency period like To Taste Temptation by Elizabeth Hoyt, which is pretty good). I hope that Private Arrangements by Sherry Thomas and The Slightest Provocation by Pam Rosenthal will suit me better.
I loved this book. I had no problem with her being a courtesan. If she had been sexual abused and demeaned, I would have a problem. Seriously, you cannot take this character out of the historical perspective. A lot of women became courtesans because they were ambitious, not because they had been sexually abused. You can’t take her role out of the historical context. Jane Aiken Hodge in her book on regency women was surprised at the friendship and companionship shared by the courtesans. Sophie Wilson, Harriette Wilson, actually married her aristocratic lover. On romancing the blog, there is a great article about an actual courtesan, Kitty Fisher. She flaunted her wealth and independence. She also married into the gentry. Lady Emma Hamilton had risen from prostitute to wife of the British Envoy to Naples. She was the famous lover of Lord Nelson and had two of his children.
Already labeled a whore by her divorce, Franscesca fought back by becoming a whore. She was proud. She was very selective about her lovers. They had to be attractive as well as well. She is a woman who refused to defeated by society’s rules. Bravo.
Your Scandalous Ways was not my favorite Loretta Chase romance. That doesn’t actually say much, however, considering that she’s one of my few autobuy authors. But I did love that in YSW the jaded, cynical, seen-it-all hero is redeemed not by a virginal girl but by an actual woman who can hold her own with him. From Georgette Heyer’s Avon in “These Old Shades” to Eloisa James’ Mayne in “Pleasure for Pleasure” we’re asked to believe that only innocence and purity (preferably in a barely post-pubescent body) can rescue the tortured hero. I love me Ms. Chase who dares to say that strong men not only can deal with strong women but may actually prefer them.
The only L.C. book I ever read (the only one I could find at a UBS actually) was Lord Perfect. It was enjoyable enough that I would give it a B+, but not enough to catch must-glom-her-entire-backlist fever. I see most reader sites, here included, rave over her and don’t really get it. But, then again, I don’t get another favorite of the majority of reader sites, Emma Holly’s Menage, either.
Here are a couple of links from Loretta Chase’s group blog, Word Wenches.
On the subject of why some women actually became courtesans, loot under the heading The Fallen Woman
http://wordwenches.typepad.com/word_wenches/loretta_chase/page/2/
On the subject of Francesca’s jewelry, look under More Scandalous: A Girl’s Best Friend
http://wordwenches.typepad.com/word_wenches/loretta_chase/page/3/
There is also a 2 part interview on
http://wordwenches.typepad.com/word_wenches/loretta_chase/page/1/
Do you have an accessible reference where I could learn more about this? I am aware of sumptuary laws in earlier periods of course, but I assume that what you mean here is simply the issue of female ownership of property generally. More information would be gratefully received.
🙂
Thanks for some numbers, Willa. So 60% of (predominantly female) sex workers have experienced sexual abuse as children, and then there is the loose estimate that 25% of girls have been abused. I don’t know where the 5% figure you mention comes from, if it’s 1/4 girls and 1/6 boys (which would make 20% of the overall population) that have been abused.
I’m sure there’s some kind of gnarly way to analyse those number statistically, but we can say that sex workers are more than twice as likely as the rest of the population to have been sexually abused. That doesn’t surprise me at all. But what is the cause? Are people of a lower socio-economic status who are more likely to end up in sex work (than the skilled working class or middle classes) because of the money also more likely to be abused (as members of the lowest class stratum)? Perhaps, although I wouldn’t think that would be significant. Is it likely that people who have experienced sexual abuse are more likely to develop addictions (to drugs or alcohol), and require that kind of work to pay for it? I think that’s a likely component. Do people who have been sexually abused feel so degraded that they no longer care about the sovereignty of their bodies, and feel they are only worthy of being whores? I’m sure that’s likely for some.
Those are the kind of questions I’d like to see answered, if possible, rather than the lazy assumptions that tend to go on when asking why some people choose to become sex workers (because those who have been coerced or trafficked into sex work are another kettle of fish). I also tend to look at the existing statistics with a jaundiced eye, given such discrepancies as 20% or 5% for the incidence of sexual abuse.
I think statistics on the personal backgrounds and motivations of women who earn a living by selling sex are meaningless unless some very precise definitions are set out at the start. The type of prostitute matters above all (in virtually all societies, there have been numerous different classes, from the wealthy woman, employing her own servants and moving at least on the fringes, if not within the upper echelons of society, to the employed ‘middle-class’ working girl, down to the poverty-stricken lowest level of street-walker), but also the general social context, including the position of women and the attitudes to sexuality, which often involve religion, the exact definition for the ‘sex trade’ within that context, temporal and geographical, the definition that is being employed for ‘sexual abuse’ and even the definition of ‘childhood’, which varies enormously in different times and cultures. The ancient Greek hetaira would certainly not have regarded herself as a ‘sex worker’ of any kind; she was a cultured, educated non-Greek woman who took part alongside men in social activities that were denied to respectable Greek woman, who lived in something approaching purdah.
I am surprised that nobody has yet mentioned the stereotypical working girl of fiction – Fanny Hill. She was by no means at the top of her profession, but she was also a very long way from the bottom, which at all places and periods has been a grim place to be.
Candy, did you ever finish writing this and, if so, when are you going to post it? (I’ve been looking for this post since I read your intentions to do it)
Just finished this. Hallelujah for a heroine with some sexual swagger. Also for the hot-potato quickness with which the upper hand was passed back and forth. I lost count of the times one of them would deliver a line that could easily have been the Last Word, the scene capper, only to have the other come back and top it.
However, as others have noted, it seemed like Francesca’s bravado evaporated once they actually got into the sexxoring, and that made me a little sad. For example, the bath scene. She’s getting ready to take a bath; she observes that he needs a bath too (they’d both jumped into the canal), and he asks how big her bathtub is.
“I’m a great whore,” she says. “What do you think?” Yes! You go, Francesca!
Only… it develops she does not actually entertain gentlemen in her big whorish bathtub. It’s her private sanctuary, and James is the first guy ever allowed in. Which is okay, except then why did she even make the connection between her profession and the size of her tub? I felt a little faked out.
Also, maybe this is just me, but I was totally skeeved by “You’re a bad girl” and the variations thereon. Francesca was a grown woman who owned her sexuality. When he called her a bad girl, or naughty; when he shook her by the shoulders and said “Don’t ever do that again” (on two different occasions), it kinda made my skin crawl.
Unfortunate, because on the whole I love Loretta Chase and I love the risks she took here with subject matter. Much more satisfying than Not Quite a Lady. Also a big step up from Lord Perfect. Not up to the level of Mr. Impossible, but then, I don’t know if anything ever will be.
I found it disappointing myself.
The whole hero/heroine as whore was not so much an issue for me. I have read and liked Mary Balogh’s books dealing with this issue. They were wonderful! But for this book, I’d give it a B. Disappointing, because I truly like and admire Loretta Chase and usually love her books. But there were little or no feelings—no emotional depth—no growth—no changes to these characters. Boring! They were superficial—everything was on the surface. Their previous lives should have led to more angst and played out in the novel, but curiously, never did. The villainness was rather pathetic, the big scary ending was just silly, and the stupid epilogue was totally improbable and an insult to the reader’s intelligence.
But…still…it is a Loretta Chase, so I’d give it a B. Not as good as her previous books though.
I thought Candy’s review on Your Scandalous Ways was right on. I read the book yesterday. Even though I had read the review before purchasing I bought it because I loved Lord of Scoundrels.
Personally this book rocked for me (even with the minor flaws) and James and Francesca are among my top h/h favorites…especially Francesca. The refreshing change in historical land was a rush for me. I loved the humor and exchanges between James and Francesca and especially the equality factor (and I don’t give a shit about the era). I’ve lived far too long to get whacked out by “labels” so I don’t.
I’m a book a day reader and this one was so delicious for me that I whooped in joy….Nancy:)
Submit: Nearly 64 HA.
I actually like the smarmy ending. I think it could be approached from another angle, though rather than rainbow shooting asses. In the socio/political atmoshphere of the day there were clear roles people were “supposed” to play. Poor people were slovenly, stupid, and lazy. Rich people who had no titles? Upstarts and mushrooms. Nobility were leaders, innovators, gaurdians of the moral rectitude (blah, blah, blah). Perhaps one could view the granting of a title (and fortune) to our two non-conformist heros as a way for the high muckity mucks to realign the “rightness” of their actions vs. their place in society. Far more comfortable than admitting that they (the aristocracy) didn’t actually have a monopoly on the best character. Oh, and yes, I’m a Disney ending kinda gal anyway. If I want reality, I’ll watch the news.
P.S. I’d have been hoping for a fluke meeting of the toddlers new parents in the book “Coming Home To You” mentioned above, or maybe a photo on a desk, like my father found of a child we fostered. Even in real life, sometimes there IS a happy ending.
Totally late to the game here… I’ve found it interesting to read the article and the comments—obviously there’s quite varied reaction.
Unfortunately, I’m one of the readers who didn’t particularly like the book. Chase often has a light touch (and I adored Mr. Impossible and Miss Wonderful), but here I felt the touch was too light, and the book was all surface, no depth. I ended up bored by the characters despite the intriguing set-up.
Yet others were engaged, so I guess in part it’s what the reader brings to the book.
It didn’t help that I read this directly after Laura Kinsale’s Seize the Fire, which certainly plumbs the depths of that romance.
Too light, all surface and no depth…
That was exactly my reaction to this book.
I was disappointed, because I expect “feelings” in a Loretta Chase novel! She is so good at character development and relationships! But it just wasn’t there in this book.
I totally agree, I was expecting more from her.