Reviews

Patricia Harrison has done it again! This enchanting full-length Regency was so good, that this reader did not want it to end. Set in both France and England in the aftermath of Napoleon’s downfall, Ms. Harrison’s charming romance takes place against a backdrop of espionage, misunderstandings and family drama. With a touch of humor and some very down-to-earth characters, the author had this reader riveted. It is refreshing to read a romance in which the main characters enjoy a budding love, not constant friction. Ms. Harrison keeps her characters true to the Regency period, and they do not step over the boundaries of propriety. I have thoroughly enjoyed this Regency tale and look forward to more of Ms. Harrison’s romances. Very highly recommended reading! 5 Angels
……Naomi, Fallen Angel Reviews

Well-written and edited, and set solidly in its era, LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY is a notable addition to Regency romance literature. Richard is going through change and maturation, but doesn’t yet know what’s missing from his life. Fleur is recovering from illness, is thin and gaunt, with her hair chopped off to save her strength, and her spirits have reached a low ebb with her failing efforts to save her beloved home. Ms. Harrison does an excellent job showing how her two protagonists rise to their full potential without magically changing their natures.
Treat yourself to LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY and enjoy a captivating romance both exciting and sweet.
……Jane Bowers, Romance Reviews Today

LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY is a wonderfully written Regency. This is the second of Patricia Harrison’s Regencies I have been privileged to read and this one doesn’t disappoint. LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY is not a light little story, dealing as it does with France and England and how Napoleon’s wars affected the French people. Fleur must deal with the fact that she doesn’t have any money. She won’t accept charity, and repeatedly searches for ways to support herself. Richard, on the other hand, has always led a privileged life and wouldn’t know what to do if he lost it. In LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY we learn about spies, France and love as we follow Richard and Fleur on their adventures. I highly recommend Patricia Harrison’s LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY to all lovers of Regency romance. 4 _ Blue Ribbons
……Chere, Romance Junkies

Readers will be delighted with this amorous and dangerous story about a titled Englishman and a beautiful French woman. The story begins in France, showcasing the devastation of that country because of the fighting and political unrest. The author stayed true to the history of the times and incorporated it skillfully into the story. Also noteworthy in this period were the class distinctions. Readers will feel Fleur’s hurt at the hands of the upper class. The author did a superb job of showing this prejudice that was acceptable at this time period. This book also adds an element of suspense with a thrilling adventure for the main characters. Danger, intrigue, and a life-and-death battle ensue, yet readers will smile with satisfaction as the author gently closes this story with the best possible ending. LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY is a slice of history with a twist of adventure and a lot of love.
……Joyce Handzo, In the Library Reviews

LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY is a magnificent Regency romance. It’s beautifully written and thoroughly engrossing. The powerfully vivid characters draw you into the story and keep you turning the pages. Fleur is sweet, generous, compassionate, strong, stubborn, brave and bold—a wonderful mix of traits. Richard, a dreamy hero, just gets sexier and more lovable as the story progresses. The secondary characters are simply delightful, especially Fitz, Richard’s best friend. I hope Ms. Harrison plans to make him the hero in one of her future books. 4 _ Hearts
……Renee Burnette, The Romance Studio

Exerpt of LORD COMPTON’S FOLLY

The door burst open, swinging back on its hinges to crash against the wall. Fleur leaped to her feet as Marie whirled. The copper pot fell clanging to the floor.
“Gaston! Whatever is the matter?” Fleur demanded of the diminutive, dark-visaged man who stood in the doorway.
“Oh, husband, what has happened?” Marie cried, hurrying to him.
Gaston dramatically flung out one arm. “Imagine me by the river,” he proclaimed in rich, rolling tones. “Then, a groan! Another! I find a man, and wounded. A veritable giant, heavy as thought already dead. But Gaston Broussard is strong, like the bull. I tug, I pull, I lift! He is in the cart! Without sparing my strength, I haul the cart home. Come and see!” With a broad flourish, he stepped aside.
Mentally tallying her medical supplies, Fleur picked up her skirts and ran out to the two-wheeled hand-cart Gaston used to gather firewood. The veritable giant’s broad shoulders and bloody, dark head hung awkwardly out one end of the cart while his legs trailed out the other. Marie was already feeling for a heartbeat under the man’s soiled and blood-stained shirt.
“You might well have left him where you found him, husband,” Marie said, shaking her head. “He burns with fever.”
Fleur’s heart contracted in pity for the man lying crumpled and helpless before her. He hardly seemed to breathe at all, at least not enough to support so large a frame. She bent to lift the scratched and dirty hand hanging limply over the edge of the cart. It was heavy and still, as thought lifeless, but then the long fingers moved, grasping hers, and the man’s eyelids fluttered.
“We must get him inside at once,” she ordered. “Marie, can you help Gaston carry him while I ready a bed?”
Marie turned from examining the man’s head wound to stare blankly at her. “Has the influenza robbed you of your senses? Who knows where this one comes from? A renegade soldier, perhaps, or a brigand who would rob us and then murder us in our beds.”
“He looks the part, “ Fleur admitted. Wet, shabby clothes, hair like matted black thatch, heavy black stubble on cheeks and chin clotted with dried blood and dirt. The bloodstained kerchief binding his brow added an extra villainous touch.
Yet Fleur felt no revulsion or fear when she looked into his unconscious face. A wide forehead, a bold nose with finely chiseled nostrils, a strong, generous mouth shadowed by beard growth—here was no brutishness, no stamp of evil. An innocent wayfarer, wounded, like the man in the Bible who fell among thieves. His hand clung to hers like a silent appeal for help. She wished he would open his eyes. The eyes betrayed so much of one’s character.
“He is hurt, Marie,” she said firmly. “Would you have me turn a wounded man from my door? Besides, we have little left to steal, and he is far too weak to think of murder.”
Marie’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “Let us take him to the doctor for care.”
“ He will get better care here. Besides, Doctor Ferrone is ailing himself, as you very well know.” Her lethargy, Fleur discovered, was gone. Someone needed her, and for a time she could lay aside her own problems. She felt almost cheerful as she gently disengaged her hand from the man’s clasp and signaled to Gaston. “Bring him.”
Compton floated out of a nightmare of pain in which he had endured an incredibly jolting carriage ride. Voices, real or imagined, buzzed in his head. He fought to lift his heavy eyelids, and failing that, struggled weakly in protest against the hands moving him.
“ Be calm, monsieur. You are injured, but do not be concerned. We will help you.”
French? And in a woman’s sweet, lilting voice? Was it her hand lying so cool and gentle on his forehead? What did she mean, that he was injured? Where was he? Memory eluded him, consumed in the fire ravaging his body. His eyes refused to open, and suddenly a fresh wave of pain carried him into dark nothingness.