The Black Moth: A Romance of the Xviiith Century

Georgette Heyer wrote The Black Moth at seventeen. Let that sink in. In 1921, a teenager sat down and produced a swashbuckling romance so assured, so fizzing with wit and historical texture, that it announced one of the great genre voices of the twentieth century. The result feels less like a beginner's exercise and more like a masterclass in escapism: handsome villains, imperiled heroines, masked highwaymen, and a duel or two for good measure. The story opens with Jack Carstares, a gentleman blackmailed by his own brother Richard into taking the fall for a card cheat. Disgraced, he flees England, only to return years later in disguise as the mysterious Black Moth, a highwayman with a reputation for robbing cads and rescuing damsels. His path collides with the Duke of Andover, a proud aristocrat with his own secrets, and the stage is set for kidnapping, revelation, and the kind of romance that blooms exactly when everything seems lost. This is historical romance stripped to its purest form: clever, breathless, and unafraid to be deliciously absurd. It remains essential for anyone who wants to see where Heyer's legendary Regency novels began.