A comedy of manners in the dance of love . . .

Back in the seventies, I wrote a Georgette Heyer pastiche, but by the time I got it typed up to send around, the second wave of Regency romances had pretty much taken over, at least in the USA: spicy, the heroines hopping into the sack with the heroes. Along with the sex came the modernization of the heroines--they were often on a first name basis with everyone by page ten, they went off alone through London without a thought, etc. I parked the ms.

A few years back I rewrote it, but this time, for fun, I'd stick with vocabulary and interactions from Jane Austen's time. I amended my goal to more of a silver fork feel, because let's face it, readers don't pick up a Regency romance in order to exercise their solidarity with the proletariat.