"A story about a seriously sexy scoundrel!"
Reviewed by Miranda Owen
Posted October 16, 2016
Romance Historical
DUKE OF SIN is book ten in Elizabeth Hoyt's Maiden
Lane
series. Valentine Napier, the Duke of Montgomery is
a devilishly handsome rogue and aristocratic blackmailer.
Hugh Fitzroy, the Duke of Kyle -- one of the supporting
characters in DUKE OF SIN -- is much more fitting in the
role of hero. However unlikely Val is a hero, he is a witty
and vastly entertaining master of all he surveys.
Housekeeper Bridget Crumb is the perfect foil for Val.
Elizabeth Hoyt crafts a hero and heroine very different
from each other but they fit surprising well together. As
Val's plans and schemes take him into ever darker waters,
Bridget is a courageous protector -- for him, as well as
protecting others from him. Right from the start, in DUKE OF SIN, Bridget and Val
play an erotically charged game of cat and mouse. Bridget
has infiltrated the duke's household to retrieve items
Val is using for leverage against good people that
Bridget cares about. Although a shark in everyday life,
Val is intrigued by Bridget. When Val calls Bridget his
"Seraphine" in a throaty whisper, it is difficult for her
to not fall under his spell. Despite her level-headed
practicality, Bridget is captivated by the luxuriousness
and sensuality of Val and his world. Any time an author
creates a bad boy rake hero it's sometimes difficult to
maintain the delicate balance between keeping the hero
just bad enough to have his appeal without going totally
dark, and to show how finding love changes him without
destroying the very thing readers loved most about him.
Elizabeth Hoyt nails it. The more I know about Val, the
more I like him for more than just his golden good looks
or witticisms. Elizabeth Hoyt provides the reader with
enough glimpses into Val's background to get a better
understanding of why he is the way he is. Bridget is no
simpering virgin and can go toe-to-toe with Val when he's
trying to play the part of intimidating autocrat. The
chemistry between Bridget and Val is really convincing
and a big part of why I like DUKE OF SIN so much. DUKE OF SIN is a story about a seriously sexy scoundrel
and the woman who mystifies and inflames him. Young
Mehmed and the delightfully scrappy Pip make great
supporting characters and inject a lighter mood into the
story now and then. Hippolyta Royle makes a convincing
damsel in distress, and her predicament coupled with
Val's somewhat creepy ancestral home and the fiendish
Lords of Chaos waiting in the wings all add a wonderfully
Gothic touch. I look forward to the next Maiden Lane
story by Elizabeth Hoyt.
SUMMARY
A MAN OF SIN Devastatingly handsome. Vain. Unscrupulous. Valentine
Napier, the Duke of Montgomery, is the man London
whispers
about in boudoirs and back alleys. A notorious rake and
blackmailer, Montgomery has returned from exile, intent
on
seeking revenge on those who have wronged him. But what
he
finds in his own bedroom may lay waste to all his plans. A WOMAN OF HONOR Born a bastard, housekeeper Bridget Crumb is clever,
bold,
and fiercely loyal. When her aristocratic mother becomes
the
target of extortion, Bridget joins the Duke of
Montgomery's
household to search for the incriminating evidence-and
uncovers something far more dangerous. A SECRET THAT THREATENS TO DESTROY THEM BOTH Astonished by the deceptively prim-and surprisingly
witty-domestic spy in his chambers, Montgomery is
intrigued.
And try as she might, Bridget can't resist the slyly
charming duke. Now as the two begin their treacherous
game
of cat and mouse, they soon realize that they both have
secrets-and neither may be as nefarious-or as innocent-as
they appear . . .
ExcerptVal threw down his knife and fork with a clatter.
“Explain it to me, this thing, love. Why would a
perfectly intelligent girl want to marry a man so beneath
her? She could take him as a lover if she wanted—I
certainly wouldn’t care. Why marry the fellow?”Mrs. Crumb carefully placed her fork and knife upon her
plate and folded her hands in her lap. She turned to face
him. “Love is the best of all human emotion. It separates
us from the beasts and brings us closer to God and to
heaven. There is no greater gift than love between a man
and a woman.” He looked at her a moment, studying her earnest
expression, and then grinned. “You’ve never loved a man,
have you?” She pursed her lips, looking not a little irritated.
“No.” He took up his knife and fork again, feeling more
cheerful. “A woman?” “Pardon, Your Grace?” He waved his knife, a bit of the beef skewered on the
end. “Have you ever loved a woman?” She pursed her lips and for a moment he thought they’d
have another round of tedious prevarication. Then she
sighed—audibly this time. “I was fond of my mother but I
doubt that is what you mean. I’ve never loved another
woman romantically.” He smiled and ate the bite of beef. She came from the
country. Yet she was rather more sophisticated than he’d
first thought her. “Then…” She stared at him very seriously, almost shyly.
“You’ve never loved another?” “Good God, no.” “Not even your intended fiancée?” He threw back his head and laughed at the very thought.
“No. Oh, no. I think that one must have some essential
part to love.” She knit her black brows again, quite severely, and the
resemblance to some stern saint was very strong. “What
part?” He shrugged, twirling his fork in the air as he thought.
“I don’t know? A belief in goodness and God? Or maybe
godliness? Perhaps innocence?” He smiled and looked at
her. “In any case, whatever that essential thing is, I
don’t have it in me. I never had it.” Her brows were level. Her dark eyes intent on him. He
might be the only man in the world to her right now. Oh,
heady, erotic thought. “Never? Not even when you were a
child?” He shook his head slowly, aware of the soul-deep
blackness that had seeped into his skin, been driven
through his muscles, and embedded in his very bones. “Not
even in the womb.” He rarely told the truth—why bother? It was so dull—but
when he did, most mistook it for jest. She did not. She looked at him soberly, and despite her martyr’s eyes,
she seemed to make no judgment of him, which, if nothing
else, was refreshing. He leaned a little forward and took her chin, her skin
soft and warm under his fingers. Alive. Human. Womanly. Her dark eyes widened. “Now, you, Mrs. Crumb, you aren’t like me at all. You
have that part, whatever it is. You can love, which
raises the question: Why haven’t you?” She made a movement, like a mare trying to shake a
bridle, but he held her, squeezing her face tightly.
Perhaps he even left bruises. He enjoyed that thought, imprinting his fingertips on her
face for all to see. “Why, my gentle housekeeper?” Her nostrils flared and she stilled, glaring at him. “I
like my job. I like doing as I please. Falling in love
with a man would inconvenience me, Your Grace.” He caught his breath in admiration. “How very practical
of you, Mrs. Crumb.” He drew her forward, making her half rise, his gaze fixed
on that wet, reddened mouth and her angry dark eyes, his
cock beating, bold and insistent, against the placket of
his breeches. Perhaps he’d mark her further. Perhaps he’d
see to what depths a saint could fall.
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