I have most of Laura Matthews' books; she's a Regency writer I enjoy very much. Unfortunately, this one falls short of her usual brilliance. Although it's a well-written story, the character of Prudence gets tedious by the middle of the book. Rather than looking innocent and pure, her constant fears of having her own husband touch her in ANY way made her look a bit stupid and borderline paranoid. I can see her being flustered and frightened the first, possibly even the third time, her new husband holds her and gives her a kiss. But if after several weeks she still cannot figure out that her body's reactions to him feel *good*, and that this sensation is not something to stop immediately just because it is new to her, then she's too dense and insensitive for words.
This is the one and only book of Matthews' that I didn't finish. After a while I simply didn't care.
I highly recommend reading "A Rival Heir" or "The Village Spinster," two of my favorite Laura Matthews books.

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Prudence knew that William married her for the money she inherited from her former fiance, but she hoped that once they got to know each other, their marriage would be more than just "convenient." After being neglected so long by her former fiance, she had no intention of allowing her new husband to relegate her to the country while he enjoyed the pleasures of London.

William's feelings for his wife were deeper than he let on; he had been attracted to her years ago and was disappointed to hear of her engagement. Now he was married to her and desperately wanted to consummate the marriage, but his passion frightened her. He couldn't just force himself on her. Just a little patience, he kept telling himself. But for how long?

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Prudence knew that William married her for the money she inherited from her former fiance, but she hoped that once they got to know each other, their marriage would be more than just "convenient." After being neglected so long by her former fiance, she had no intention of allowing her new husband to relegate her to the country while he enjoyed the pleasures of London.
William's feelings for his wife were deeper than he let on; he had been attracted to her years ago and was disappointed to hear of her engagement. Now he was married to her and desperately wanted to consummate the marriage, but his passion frightened her. He couldn't just force himself on her. Just a little patience, he kept telling himself. But for how long?

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