Five-Star review from BooksandBindings:
I’m not allowed to have Diet Coke. My grandmamma, the Countess of Stamford, says that soda rots your teeth and diet soda is only for the weak-minded.
There were several other women, clumped in small groups, mostly much lumpier than the svelte exercisers that I was used to. In New York, only the thin and the emaciated were allowed into the elite aerobics classes.
The children introduced their mothers (and the one hapless father). When it was Henry’s turn, he stood up. ‘My mummy died when I was born. This is Jordy, who lives with us and takes care of us. Her daddy died when she was little. She says the F-word. She and my daddy yell at each other a lot.’ He sat down to amused glances from around the room. ‘Sounds like a proper marriage,’ one woman murmured behind me, and several laughed.
A fish out of water story as Jordy, a New York investment banker, having fled New York before being indicted; finds herself hiding out in the English Cotswold’s while renting a cottage on the grounds of a widowed English lord (Lord John the Icy) and his four unruly children. Jordy finds herself assuming the role of the children’s nanny by default, then finds herself assuming many more roles for the family while unwittingly unraveling over 500 years of the family’s history and quietly untangling many of the family’s issues. Her misadventures were cunningly amusing and highly entertaining. The writing was delightfully observant, humorous, and engaging – with considerable cleverness and wry humor in the narrative as well as within the subtext. The plot was smartly crafted and well-paced. I hope to enjoy this author’s work again and again.