Up until the last 70 pages, this book was fun, interesting, it was a delightful romance between a roguish, rake with a good heart and the prim, proper lady that discovers passion. But in the last 70 pages the story collapses and turns into the clichés ridden mush. It became a bad melodrama, the characters lost their sparks, their chemistry and the wonderful repartee that charmed me so. I wish that just for once a writer would go in the opposite direction of the "oh woe, he lied to me, oh woe, I can't tell her my terrible secret". So this is wonderful until the house of cards folds in a pile of pink, sugary mush.