This seemed to be one that everyone else like but I didn't. To be honest, I was just bored throughout nearly the whole thing. I can understand the allure of it, I suppose. The idea behind the story is one that sounded interesting. Who doesn't love a little revenge? Especially when its taken too far and becomes an obsession?It's a bit darker than a lot of the HR that I've read. The emotions maybe more real, the situations a bit less fantastical. But that's what I like about Historical romance, especially the regency period. I like to hear about the pretty dresses and all of the preparation to 'be seen' on a daily basis. I love the silly balls and parties and the idea of these prim and proper English people partying until dawn and sleeping until noon. Not to say that HR is full of nonsense, but that part of it is essential, in my opinion. It sets the tone of the era and lends itself to more of the unreality. Unveiled simply lacked imagery. There was almost no description beyond a vague 'dreary sky' or 'flimsy shift.' And I think it desperately needed descriptive words. The first ninety percent of the book takes place in the same manor home, with no change of scenery aside from a very brief walk on the road and a blip of time in the garden. It was just boring. The author is definitely a good writer, but for me the story itself needed less dialogue and more action, movement, and color. There was almost too much emotion, if that makes any sense. I got to the point that each strong emotion sort of blended into the next, and it stopped being new and started being monotonous. All right. Now that I've bashed it a bit too much, I'll say what I liked. Ms. Milan has a very romantic way with words. Some of the inner dialogue is almost like poetry. When Ash first meets Margaret, I got a little swoony."He'd never seen the woman before in his life. He couldn't have; he would have remembered the feel of her, the sheer rightness of it...But it wasn't her looks that caught his attention. Ash had seen beautiful women in his time. Maybe it was her eyes, narrowed and steely, fixed on him as if he were the source of all that was wrong in the world. Maybe it was the set of her chin, so unyielding, so fiercely determined, when every face around hers mirrored uncertainty. Whatever it was, something about her resonated deep within him. I reminded him of the cacophony of an orchestra as it tuned it's instruments: dissonance, suddenly resolving into harmony. It was the rumble, not of thunder, but its low, rolling precursor, trembling on the horizon. It was all of that. It was none of that. It was sheer animal instinct, and it reached up and grabbed him by the throat. Her. Her."