An Angel for the Earl

By: Barbara Metzger / Narrated By: Pippa Rathborne

Length: 6 hrs and 41 mins

I howled with laughter and delight, but what’s this? Did I have to sob into a couple of tissues also…?

Going into An Angel for the Earl, I was all set to be delighted by author Barbara Metzger’s usual wit and style. But the narration by Pippa Rathborne had me groaning pretty much immediately. I thought her voice sounded too old for our heroine Lucinda. But I continued, kinda sorta grumbling, until the writing had me completely engaged in the story. And by the end? After our Hero Kerry, the Lord of Stanford, has been through the wringer repeatedly, has spouted off in indignation sooo many times? By the time I got to the end, crying my eyes out for a freaking Regency romp, Rathborne’s narration had me, completely and unutterably. The way she captured the near-overwhelming emotion was through her unique vocal talents, plus her fearlessness at giving the story the performance it absoLUTEly deserved. She does a lot of Ms. Metzger’s audiobooks, and if she’s that unselfconscious for all of them, or heck: Even half of them, then I’m totally looking forward to those stories!

Young Lucinda starts the book by a mad scramble to elope… with a total turd who, it turns out, has no intention to wed her, whose sole intent is to compromise her and to get blackmail money out of her rigid and uncaring father. As it turns out, and as we’ll see throughout the book, Lucinda has a bit of a way with wrangling ill-luck to her: She kinda sorta winds up killing the man. After numbly sitting through interviews, she shrugs off the well-meaning witnesses who know that she fought in self-defense, and heads on home. Later, she’s found off the side of the road, a blow to the head, suffering from hypothermia: Her unloving father cares not a fig for her, is disgusted she got into the situation in the first place, and has her body taken upstairs where she can linger until she dies.

Caught between life and death, Lucinda is given the task of redeeming the soul of Kerry, the Lord of Stanford—she has to do this so that she might be forgiven the killing and proceed into Heaven, but Kerry’s a dissipated rake who’s gambled away the family fortune, cares not for his estates and tenants. Things aren’t looking good for Lucinda, and the odds are stacked against her. Seeing as she’s closer to Hell, then, than to Heaven, she appears to a hungover Kerry looking like a painted harlot and smelling of fire and brimstone.

And thus begins the most AWEsome story of the two getting to know each other, with Kerry fighting pretty much every step of the way, but with Lucinda, dubbed Lucy now by Kerry, never giving up. Into many a scrape does she get Kerry, who despite his worst efforts, always kinda sorta comes around and gives things a go. Her scrapes degrade and humiliate him, open him to the taunts and jeers of those who wonder why he’s talking to himself (Only he can see and hear… and smell… Lucy), but each time he’s in one of them, he digs within himself and does the right thing, no matter how utterly embarrassed or aggravated he is.

Totally hiLARious! Especially when Lucy helps the impoverished Kerry get a horse, especially when, riding that high-strung and ill-tempered lovely brute, she waylays him during a fox hunt and demands he save the fox. So many, many opportunities to do good, and he’s gritting his teeth the whole time, wanting to wring her lovely neck. And along the way, he comes to see what his selfish and self-absorbed lifestyle choices have done to the people around him, the tenants struggling on his estates—no love lost there for the high-flying Lord, and he feels shame enough, aware enough, that dad blast it all: He WILL do the right thing, taking it all step by ponderous step.

An Angel for the Earl definitely has Barbara Metzger’s trademark wit with chaos abounding and clever zingers flying. Plus, it wasn’t really a romance so much as it was, more poignantly, a story of a budding friendship between a girl who was isolated and hopes only for heaven as there’s NEVER been anything on earth for her and a self-centered Lord who’s always been liked solely for his title and what money he throws around when in his cups but who now has an honest and true friend to share his days.

But what made this all so emotional for me, this romp of a Regency romance, was that they’re NOT supposed to fall in love and live happily ever after. Kerry must become a good man and marry a suitable wife (And now he’s looking for a sweet-tempered and kind one instead of just an heiress) who’ll have a dowry large enough to save the family estates and who will bear him sons. Lucy is just existing on this earthly plane as a near-corpse with an old servant sneaking her spoonfuls of broth as she lay comatose—she’s waiting for death, and as Kerry becomes a better man, her looks start changing from the stunning harlot into the angel who’s closer to heaven. Closer to death. Their parting is unavoidable.

And with Ms. Rathborne’s heartfelt performance? I was in tears, I tell you; I was absolutely gutted! I’d come to love each character so much, to laugh at what they’d gone through together. I’d become so very engaged in the storylines of Kerry’s relatives, of his tenants, of his land steward, even of his betrothed to be. It was hard to get to that kind of ending, and I applauded Ms. Metzger with each tear that rolled down my cheek.

Other reviewers rated this at, say, 3.5 stars due to the abrupt ending, and I agree it was abrupt. But I didn't want anything more; I felt the story had been told in its entirety. And I thought it was just a final zinger and a slap to the head for Kerry, which made me laugh out loud.

Okay, so I’m a huuuuuge Barbara Metzger fan, so I’m pretty much assured of a charming and witty romp and am predisposed to liking her work. But this?

Oh THIS, dear Accomplice, was bliss!!!

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