When we last checked in on Princess Sophie Baldwin for the latest gossip we found her tumultuous life had taken a turn for the turbulent. She and teenage daughter Savannah had decamped to a sovereign island nation to assume their rightful places on the throne after decades in North Carolinian exile. While Savannah's exploits will surely be told in several year's time as another St. Michel romance, potentially entitled Accidental Daughter, Sophie's time is now, and not just because several foreigners are either trying to sleep with her, murder her or offer her shiny headwear. No, there is nothing quite like God-given authority over a well-populated dominion, and the love of a handsome man, to give someone their groove back. Sophie had led a weary existence as ludicrously dressed doormat due to Frank's mistreatment, her adoptive parent's betrayal, her real family's choice of either abandonment or death, her daughter's impertinence, Mary's snobbery and Laura dying. Thus, she has truly suffered for her shot at superiority. One might have assumed that ruling a kingdom would see an end to her troubles, but disaster seems to follow Sophie as closely as her security detail.
Once she has landed and partaken in splendour, the machinations are in place to seal her discreditation. Several inappropriate trysts with the evil Vicomte Yves de Vaugirard sully her reputation and reveal to the world's media that she is in fact the daughter of Princess Sylvie and rock legend Nick Morrison. One might have assumed that this would be the end of her troubles, but there is still the problematic matter of a decades long Founteneau Curse to consider, as well as the mutual physical longing that has consumed the thoughts of Sophie and part-time Oliver Martinez impersonator Luc Lejardin, who isn't the most competent bodyguard at the best of times. Sophie invites her shy yet likeable maid, Adéle and her mother, Marie, to the castle for tea and awkwardly translated conversation. Marie previously worked as Sylvie's most loyal and obsessive assistant, and confesses that when the plane crashed Nick and the Princess were headed on their honeymoon, having been married in a small French village. Does this change anything? Not exactly, because Sophie had already been scandalously born and remains illegitimate, but the revelation elicits a minor response from Luc possibly signifying meaning.
With the numerous subplots established and one hundred and eighty pages filled with words, Thompson is able to pen the final chapter. There is much to resolve and neither the time nor the talent to do so satisfactorily. First up, there's the business of Sophie's claim to her title, which can be challenged on the grounds that her parents were unwed. Fortunately, they were married. Did anyone mention Luc's brother, Alex, is a lawyer who has been studiously scanning the Constitution for legal loopholes? No? Well, he is and he was. What about ex-husband, Frank, and his demands to see his daughter more often than the reader does? This afterthought of an inconvenience is dealt with in a single sentence, as nebulous external conflicts should be. Frank is paid off and invited over whenever he wants. As for Luc's concerns about his besmirched family name and lowly commoner status, this is settled simply by pretending no one had brought it up to begin with. Plot points are resolved in one paragraph of good news, better news and best news, and inevitable love-making follows, as Luc and Sophie fuse into one, although the author rather skimps on salacious detail. There is no time for euphemisms for body parts, not when there are crimes to solve and crimes to prevent.
Speaking of which, how is Luc's investigation going? As the population of the island consists of himself, the King and two other people, Luc manages to narrow his list of suspects down to two. Having patiently waited until after his best friend had been murdered, Luc installs informants in the de Vaugirard household where homicidal schemes are hatched with such Gallic arrogance that staff are invited to listen and offer criticism. Oh, you foolish de Vaugirard's, your secretive and successful killing spree has been uncovered by your lack of secrecy. Yet, despite the damning evidence of countless witnesses, Luc and the King still do not have enough evidence to convict the pair, perhaps because the St. Michel police and court system are inept and open to bribes. Therefore a plan is concocted to lure a hired assassin into the open at the New Year's Eve Ball. Despite the danger, the St. Michel New Year's Ball is something of a tradition and the King isn't about to let threats upon his or his granddaughter's life get in the way of a good party. Still, mannequins are to be dressed and stood on a distant balcony to draw the gunfire. Suddenly and without drama two shots ring out, and, obviously fearing the end, Luc throws his massive body on Sophie's. How did the de Vaugirard's know of the decoy trick? That hardly seems important. What does seem important is not lingering on anything narratively influential.
Thompson skips forward a few days to find Luc and Sophie driving up towards St. Ezra, where Princess Sylvie was wed, to find the necessary documentation proving her legitimacy. King Bertrand was saved by his trusty bulletproof vest. The assassin and Daddy de Vaugirard are behind bars, although Son de Vaugirard escaped. Nevertheless, Sophie is plagued by doubts about her future, and wishes to return to North Carolina with Savannah and Luc in tow. Her lover fixes this fleeting crisis with a similar series of clichés that must have worked on Amanda, because Sophie decides to stay where the money, power and happiness is. All is well, but what's that? Yves de Vaugirard? Awaiting them with a loaded gun? How did he know they would be there? That hardly seems important. What does seem important is disarming him with the minimal amount of tension. Luc takes a bullet to the shoulder and Sophie headbutts the villain. The first headbutt in Mills & Boon history? It seems likely in a world where kisses tend to be spectacular. A cursory epilogue wraps things up as merrily as possible. The murderers are jailed, the hero and heroine are engaged, Savannah is probably all right, the King lives, Luc is redeemed from the scandal only he was aware of and any subplots Thompson forgot about can't have been significant. Everybody loves a wedding. The End.
For all its failings as a romance, and the many deficiencies that prohibit it from working as a mystery thriller, Accidental Princess also misfires as a fairytale. Nancy Robards Thompson is unable to create an atmosphere of wonder to make for a traditional story, while an absence of either wit or insight keeps her contemporary twist clear of subversion. By allowing her heroine moments of clarity she calls attention to the incredulity of the plotting. Despite the world outside intruding hungrily on the idealised island neither St. Michel nor North Carolina are convincing. The characters are too poorly-drawn to perceive events in a credible manner and the novel falls flat around a limp heroine and hackneyed obstacles. With little in the way of internal conflict the plot relies on the supposedly frowned-upon device of external threats. The magnitude of the situation relegates romance to a subplot and fails to differentiate between Sophie's courtship and her regal ascension. Accidental Princess takes a haphazard approach to politics, concluding that unelected Plutocracy works for everyone so long as the oligarchs are nice. As events culminate in farcical crime-fighting Sophie's attempt to redistribute the wealth while retaining all the power and luxury are forgotten, although a Christmas toy drive is tacked on for no worthwhile reason. Her work in social services and initial disagreement with de Vaugirard over just how revolting poor people are become trite indications of Sophie's humanity, and are wasted instead of developed into a moral dilemma as she learns about her new home's systematic inequality.
Thompson skips forward a few days to find Luc and Sophie driving up towards St. Ezra, where Princess Sylvie was wed, to find the necessary documentation proving her legitimacy. King Bertrand was saved by his trusty bulletproof vest. The assassin and Daddy de Vaugirard are behind bars, although Son de Vaugirard escaped. Nevertheless, Sophie is plagued by doubts about her future, and wishes to return to North Carolina with Savannah and Luc in tow. Her lover fixes this fleeting crisis with a similar series of clichés that must have worked on Amanda, because Sophie decides to stay where the money, power and happiness is. All is well, but what's that? Yves de Vaugirard? Awaiting them with a loaded gun? How did he know they would be there? That hardly seems important. What does seem important is disarming him with the minimal amount of tension. Luc takes a bullet to the shoulder and Sophie headbutts the villain. The first headbutt in Mills & Boon history? It seems likely in a world where kisses tend to be spectacular. A cursory epilogue wraps things up as merrily as possible. The murderers are jailed, the hero and heroine are engaged, Savannah is probably all right, the King lives, Luc is redeemed from the scandal only he was aware of and any subplots Thompson forgot about can't have been significant. Everybody loves a wedding. The End.
For all its failings as a romance, and the many deficiencies that prohibit it from working as a mystery thriller, Accidental Princess also misfires as a fairytale. Nancy Robards Thompson is unable to create an atmosphere of wonder to make for a traditional story, while an absence of either wit or insight keeps her contemporary twist clear of subversion. By allowing her heroine moments of clarity she calls attention to the incredulity of the plotting. Despite the world outside intruding hungrily on the idealised island neither St. Michel nor North Carolina are convincing. The characters are too poorly-drawn to perceive events in a credible manner and the novel falls flat around a limp heroine and hackneyed obstacles. With little in the way of internal conflict the plot relies on the supposedly frowned-upon device of external threats. The magnitude of the situation relegates romance to a subplot and fails to differentiate between Sophie's courtship and her regal ascension. Accidental Princess takes a haphazard approach to politics, concluding that unelected Plutocracy works for everyone so long as the oligarchs are nice. As events culminate in farcical crime-fighting Sophie's attempt to redistribute the wealth while retaining all the power and luxury are forgotten, although a Christmas toy drive is tacked on for no worthwhile reason. Her work in social services and initial disagreement with de Vaugirard over just how revolting poor people are become trite indications of Sophie's humanity, and are wasted instead of developed into a moral dilemma as she learns about her new home's systematic inequality.
To bulk out proceedings Thompson introduces several attractive characters for the benefit of a franchise. Luc has two gorgeous, charming and wealthy brothers, while Sophie calls her confidante, the beautiful and single Lindsey (Linds to her friends. Hi, Linds!), ostensibly to learn that Laura's death was an accident, and not suicide, thus absolving Sophie of guilt. Linds, Henri and Alex each later enjoyed their own surprise riches, secret babies and designer shoes with Accidental Heiress, Accidental Father and Accidental Cinderella joining Accidental Princess in a series based around a theme of inadvertency. The first of the series also marked Thompson's debut for Harlequin Mills & Boon, although the publishers repackaged the novel for a Special Moments 2-in-1 alongside Stacy Connelly's Once Upon a Wedding, as a tenuously-linked pair of underwhelming modern fairytales. The publisher's patronage of Thompson is difficult to fathom, as Accidental Princess has the lazy plotting, clumsy prose and laboured setpieces of a seasoned professional coasting on legacy. Authors with several titles behind them have struggled to skillfully combine a standard romance with a dramatic b-story, as The Domino Effect and MacKenzie's Promise prove. Therefore we can perhaps forgive Thompson's indiscretion as foolish ambition. Attempting a cross-genre Mills & Boon just sees a writer offer two disappointments where there should have been one, although if we were to count Once Upon a Wedding on top then that would make three disappointments.
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