Whew. This one was a stinker even by my generous, hormonally driven standards. A pathetic heroine who spends her entire life pining for a completely self-centered, unlikable hero, who has almost zero respect for her and treats her like a child at almost every turn. She's so precocious for a little lady, teehee! The plot is thin even for a Regency, and there are no real stakes or even any real conflict. The "happy ending" is the most unromantic thing I've ever read in a romance novel, and even the smutty parts are tepid and repetitive. Once they start happening, that is. I've enjoyed other Julia Quinn stories, and I'll probably continue the series in hopes that the Olivia book is better (There's an Olivia book, right? She was the only secondary character with any personality at all so I assume so.), but this one really misses the mark.