Letters to Half Moon Street by Sarah Wallace is a delightful epistolary romance novel set in a queer-friendly Regency London, with magic.
Reserved, bookish Gavin Hartford has been sent to London, ostensibly to manage some family business but mostly to get him out from under the same roof as his overbearing firstborn brother and his equally overbearing wife, who have descended upon the family seat in order to birth their sure-to-be overbearing spawn. Gavin does not particularly want to be in London, ever, due to his social anxiety, but he does recognize his parents’ kindness in sparing him the attentions of the dreadful duo.
He would rather stay at the townhouse on Half Moon Street and read from its limited library, but it’s peak summer and smotheringly hot, so he heads to the family club, which has magical air conditioning, to dine in relative comfort. There, his beauty and aura of quiet mystery (AKA “please nobody notice I exist”) attract the notice of allegedly notorious rake Charles Kentworthy.
All of this and what follows are conveyed through a series of letters, primarily between Gavin and Geraldine, his sister and dearest friend, upon whom clearly he has always relied to help him navigate social waters. It is therefore entirely believable that he spills his guts to her as Charles makes it his mission to show Gavin that the city is actually pretty great if one ever leaves the house and makes friends.
(I was reading this aloud for speech therapy, and here’s where the recording notes “oh, this is a horror novel.” Dear Gavin, Condolences in this trying time. Yours in utmost sympathy, LB.)
Gavin and Charles proceed to spend a great deal of time together, all of which is related in detail to Geraldine. Charles is wonderful in every possible way, and Gavin can’t fathom why such a magnificent person would voluntarily spend time with a boring grump such as himself. Geraldine replies, essentially, “I have thoughts, which I will withhold for now in the hope that you get a clue before we have to have an awkward conversation.” Gerry is the reader stand-in in this story; she knows exactly what you know and expresses the necessary “oh, you dear, clueless potato” on your behalf.
There’s low strife, and what there is is mostly of a comical (not cruel) nature, with a proper capital-R Romance happy ending.
There is a small amount of kissing. No sex occurs; furthermore, there is no mention of pants feelings, not only because describing one’s stiffy to even the most beloved sister would be way over the line but because the prevailing tone of the story is a maintenance of propriety. The worldbuilding attempts to equalize gender roles—it would be improper for Geraldine to travel to London alone, and it is also improper for Gavin to be in London alone. He gets an exception because he’s there on business, but socially, many people, including Charles, are concerned about safeguarding his reputation, even recommending he have a chaperone. This is very much not a “ruin the wallflower for funsies” kind of story. The author’s note mentions reading a lot of Heyer as an influence, and those social vibes come through. (With the benefit of additional vibes of casual acceptance of a spectrum of sexual attraction and gender and the most beautiful debutante in London having dark skin.)
From a technical standpoint, the characterization is fantastic. When I listened to the recordings from speech therapy, I was clearly portraying different personalities—not through any great acting ability on my part but because the text carries such distinct voice for each of them. Gavin is a little fast, a little pressured from his social anxieties. His sister and BFF Geraldine is similar but lighter of mood. His prankster brother Seb is a youthful and energetic. His judgmental boor of an eldest brother John is stiff as a board. Worldly, flirtatious Charles drawls as though he has all the time in the world to lull you into a state of ease. If you took the header and footer off all the correspondence, you’d still know exactly which character had written it within the first line. I’ll be holding this up as an example of “make each character’s voice distinct” when I have to write up lessons.
If you’re intrigued by one of my vanishingly rare book recommendations, the book appears to be chronically free at Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, Amazon, and Apple.
(Google Play and Amazon are affiliate links. If you click them and buy something else that isn’t free while my affiliate token is active, I might someday receive a few pennies for the referral.)
