I’ve been on a Mary Balogh binge–the woman is a goddess–and loving my time in Regency England. I just re-read SLIGHTLY WICKED, and the first page made me grin:
“Moments before the stagecoach overturned, Judith Law was deeply immersed in a daydream that had effectively obliterated the unpleasant nature of the present reality.
For the first time in her twenty-two years of existence she was traveling by stagecoach. Within the first mile or two she had been disabused of any notion she might ever have entertained that it was a romantic, adventurous mode of travel. She was squashed between a woman whose girth required a seat and a half of space and a thin, restless man who was all sharp angles and elbows and was constantly squirming to find a more comfortable position, digging her in uncomfortable and sometimes embarrassing places as he did so. A portly man opposite snored constantly, adding considerably to all the other noises of travel. The woman next to him talked unceasingly to anyone unfortunate or unwise enough to make eye contact with her, relating the sorry story of her life in a tone of whining complaint. From the quiet man on the other side of her wafted the odors of uncleanness mingled with onions and garlic.”
Wow–how many times have I said “Air travel just isn’t fun anymore” thinking that this was a new development? I’ve had some of these seat mates–how about you? (And I’m sure hoping nobody thinks *I* was one of these myself!
Mary Balogh is a uniquely gifted writer whose work I adore (LOVE those Bedwyns and Huxtables!) but I never expected to run across such a striking modern day parallel while escaping into the past!
The more things change…;)