The Evolution of the Private Investigator in Historical Romance

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Who is a lady going to call if she’s been wronged by an insufferable rake in Victorian England? If the lady is the main character in a historical romance, a lady’s reputation—and the reader’s favorite tropes—call for the FPI.

The Fictional Private Investigator.

Unlike PIs in contemporary crime fiction, the FPIs of historical romance do not sit outside a cheating man’s house in a beat-up Ford peeing in a bottle. Instead, they have a backstory that leaves them flawed and brooding, usually in possession of a small fortune or at least enough money to make a good match, and with muscular forearms. (That last part is just my humble opinion.)

My latest release, The Love Remedy, features such a man who is a single father and deliciously grumpy to boot. You’re welcome.

One reason authors who write British-set historical romances rely on our FPIs, is that London’s Metropolitan Police Force, responsible for prevention of crime and apprehension of criminals, only came into being after the Regency; the era in which the bulk of historical romance novels take place.

The police force as we know it was introduced in 1829—a mere twelve years before the events in my early-Victorian set series begin. The rank of Detective was not created until 1842, the year my first book is set. I could, of course, fudge the timeline a bit and give the Met’s detectives a little more experience, but then we confront the second reason romance authors prefer our FPIs.

No one liked the cops.

The idea of a city-wide police department was not a popular one in the 1830s. Many in London considered them a threat to civil liberties. This fear was justified when those first ten years the primary use of the police force was to “keep the peace” or, in other words, crowd control. The bulk of police action was against crowds who gathered to advocate for political reforms such as universal suffrage (For men. For women? Not so much.).

In Regency-set historical romances, an FPI was also preferable to the Bow Street Runners. While fictional liberties can and are taken in the portrayal of this private force, the Runners were thief takers without governmental oversight; men who received a fee for each criminal at large they brought to jail. In a romance this is awfully heroic.

In real life? Not so much.

Over in the colonies—sorry—in America during the early- to mid-1800’s, centralized police departments were also unpopular. In many large cities, folks were spontaneously deputized, leading to justice in some corners and mayhem in others. Obviously, not all sheriffs were hero material for the author whose novels chronicle the love lives of those men called by the gold rush or women who braved all manner of danger to make a new life out West. Even if the author keeps their stories set in the East, say New York City, police still aren’t sympathetic. Ever heard of the New York City police riot? In 1857 violence broke out between two competing forces, the NY Municipal Police Force, and the Metropolitan Police Force. Not so alluring, the specter of police men coming to fisticuffs and interfering in each other’s cases.

For those historical romance authors whose stories are American-set, there is an actual historical alternative to the questionable public lawman. The questionable private lawman. The Pinkerton Detective Agency, still in existence, was founded in 1850. In the beginning, Pinkerton agents were used in the same spirit as Metropolitan police in England. The oligarchs of the day hired Pinkerton agents to infiltrate unions and undermine the budding American labor movement. They have a kinder historical reputation than they deserve, however, because of the success attributed to them in protecting Lincoln from assassination. The first couple of times.

Indeed, the first recorded woman detective, Kate Warne, was a Pinkerton employee and one of the agents credited with foiling the first assassination attempt on Lincoln before he reached office. Later, during the civil war, Pinkerton agents were part of the “secret service” of agents overseen by the then War Office —precursors to the US Secret Service. The USSS is charged with protection of the president as well as their original purpose, to stamp out counterfeit currency.

Pinkerton agents to this day have a reputation for being anti-union. In 2022 it’s reported that a Pinkerton agent infiltrated the movement to unionize Starbucks employees. Or, maybe, they were an adolescent girl posing as a Pinkerton to justify spending an inordinate amount of time in the ubiquitous coffee shop.

In other words, while most historical romance authors conduct exhaustive research into the socio-economic, political, and fashion trends in the period in which they write, they are also charged with creating sympathetic romantic heroes and heroines.

This is why the FPI is so vital to any historical romance that involves a crime and the impetus of what I call “the duke conundrum.”

Readers, editors, and publishers would like a historical romance with a duke in the title and on the cover, please. Never mind there were only twenty-five ducal houses in 1812, including the dukedom of Wellington, created by the King specifically for the hero who defeated Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo. Slim pickings for an island full of beautiful, kind-hearted milk maids who long for men with all their teeth, were free of venereal disease, and bathed more than once a fortnight.

Hence, historical romance authors are expert at presenting the outlier.

We manage to find a scrap of evidence suggesting a duke might possibly be an early consumer of tooth powder. We conjure an earl, based on a murky historical figure, who’s defining characteristic is his unwillingness to profit from the sugar trade of the West Indies. Finally, for those of us who cannot contort our policemen (the first policewoman in the UK, Edith Smith, didn’t appear on the scene until 1915, and even then, was limited to arrests involving only women) into sympathetic love interests, we gift readers with the presence of an FPI to catch a killer, save the day, and marry the girl (or guy. Yes, there were same sex relationships in the 1800’s, but this is a whole ‘nother topic.)

So, when it comes to historical detectives, give us romance authors a bit of grace. We walk a fine, fine line between history and romance. Lucky for us, FPI’s are there to bridge the divide.

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