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When Sir Archibald Latham of the War Office dies from a heart attack while visiting her brothel, Madam India Black is unexpectedly thrust into a deadly game between Russian and British agents who are seeking the military secrets Latham carried.
Blackmailed into recovering the missing documents by the British spy known as French, India finds herself dodging Russian agents-and the attraction she starts to feel for the handsome conspirator.
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I found India’s clever banter and internal dialogue wickedly entertaining. She’s a savvy business woman with genuine flare and should prove an entertaining heroine as the series moves on. Vincent also stands out in my mind. Not since Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist has a street urchin managed to work his way into my good graces and while I admit he’s a disgusting little blighter, but I found his personality charming and delightfully quirky.
I felt the mystery itself simplistic, but well-executed just the same. There’s humor in it and the story kept my attention so I can’t really complain, but ideally I’d have liked to see a tad more complexity in the novel’s structure.
I suppose my only real complaint is French. I wanted Tobias March, but there really is no comparison. French’s relationship with India is companionable, but lacked the chemistry one would expect between would-be lovers. He isn’t a bad character, but he is subtle and was easily overshadowed by his vivacious leading lady.
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There may be easier ways of earning a sou: I could allow some pedigreed ass to keep me in French perfume and silk gowns, tucked away in a cozy pied-à-terre in St. John's Wood, and driving a four-in-hand along Rotten Row. But I like my freedom. There is not enough money in this fair isle to entice me to flutter my lashes and drop my knickers for a pompous peer who smells of horses and hasn't got the brains God gave a goose. Owning Lotus House ensures that I am my own woman.
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