The enigmatic Duke of Montgomery, Valentine Napier, has teased us with his presence in several of the most recent Maiden Lane Series books. His actions alternated between heroic (saving Asa's theatre) to diabolical (kidnapping Phoebe, Duke of Wakefield's sister) depending, seemingly, on his mood at the time. As DUKE OF SIN opens, Val has been exiled, yet has been hiding out in the secret passageways of his own home. He comes out of hiding when he observes his new housekeeper, Bridget Crumb, snooping in his bedroom.
Bridget is actually the illegitimate daughter of a noblewoman, and has managed to obtain employment in Val's household with an ulterior motive. She wants to retrieve evidence that Val is using to blackmail her birth mother. Val, it seems, has a penchant for blackmail. He absorbs gossip and knowledge about people, feeling that this gives him power, which to Val, is everything. No one is safe from his blackmail, not even the king. Bridget, aware of Val's reputation, still stands up to him, and he finds this amusing, and decides to keep her in his household and watch her.
As can be expected, Val has many enemies. When an attempt is made on his life, and almost succeeds, he trusts Bridget to nurse him back to health. Soon, Val begins to desire Bridget, though he has plans to marry a wealthy heiress. In Val's mind, there's no reason he shouldn't be able to have an affair with Bridget. This man truly has no moral compass, or concept of love. Obviously, he was set on this path as a young child, with some harsh lessons learned from his depraved father. When Bridget tries to talk to him about right and wrong, he defies the laws of God and man. Yet, Val begins to feel a certain fondness for Bridget, and surprisingly, listens when she attempts to guide him in a different direction.
I found DUKE OF SIN so compelling, that I ended up not leaving my chair until I finished reading it in the wee hours. Bridget is the perfect match for Val, guiding him without chiding him. She's a strong woman in her own right, and she knows she's fallen in love with a twisted and complicated man. I do believe that Val feels love for Bridget, but I wonder things like whether that love will keep him faithful when he sees someone new he desires. I wonder if Bridget's influence will still carry any weight with Val when she is not there and he's faced with a decision to make. A couple of Val's actions near the end of the book indicate that he may be on the right path, yet I still feel that niggling doubt. I hope that Elizabeth Hoyt gives us a glimpse of Val and Bridget in future novels, showing him truly redeemed by love. DUKE OF SIN is a real page turner with a truly villainous hero and is definitely not your typical historical romance. I highly recommend this latest addition to the Maiden Lane series, and applaud Elizabeth Hoyt for the exciting and unique storyline.
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 . . .
Val threw down his knife and fork with a clatter.
βExplain 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 wantedβI
certainly wouldnβt care. Why marry the fellow?β
Mrs. Crumb carefully placed her fork and knife upon her
plate and folded her hands in her lap. She turned to face
him. βLove 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.β
He looked at her a moment, studying her earnest
expression, and then grinned. βYouβve never loved a man,
have you?β
She pursed her lips, looking not a little irritated.
βNo.β
He took up his knife and fork again, feeling more
cheerful. βA woman?β
βPardon, Your Grace?β
He waved his knife, a bit of the beef skewered on the
end. βHave you ever loved a woman?β
She pursed her lips and for a moment he thought theyβd
have another round of tedious prevarication. Then she
sighedβaudibly this time. βI was fond of my mother but I
doubt that is what you mean. Iβve never loved another
woman romantically.β
He smiled and ate the bite of beef. She came from the
country. Yet she was rather more sophisticated than heβd
first thought her.
βThenβ¦β She stared at him very seriously, almost shyly.
βYouβve never loved another?β
βGood God, no.β
βNot even your intended fiancΓ©e?β
He threw back his head and laughed at the very thought.
βNo. Oh, no. I think that one must have some essential
part to love.β
She knit her black brows again, quite severely, and the
resemblance to some stern saint was very strong. βWhat
part?β
He shrugged, twirling his fork in the air as he thought.
βI donβt know? A belief in goodness and God? Or maybe
godliness? Perhaps innocence?β He smiled and looked at
her. βIn any case, whatever that essential thing is, I
donβt have it in me. I never had it.β
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. βNever? Not even when you were a
child?β
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. βNot
even in the womb.β
He rarely told the truthβwhy bother? It was so dullβbut
when he did, most mistook it for jest.
She did not.
She looked at him soberly, and despite her martyrβs 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.
βNow, you, Mrs. Crumb, you arenβt like me at all. You
have that part, whatever it is. You can love, which
raises the question: Why havenβt you?β
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.
βWhy, my gentle housekeeper?β
Her nostrils flared and she stilled, glaring at him. βI
like my job. I like doing as I please. Falling in love
with a man would inconvenience me, Your Grace.β
He caught his breath in admiration. βHow very practical
of you, Mrs. Crumb.β
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 heβd mark her further. Perhaps heβd
see to what depths a saint could fall.
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