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.
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 . . .
Excerpt
Val 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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