Avon, $7.99, ISBN 978-0-06-245740-0
Historical Romance, 2020
The pairing of a frequently inebriated, debauched, and crude hero—the stench of such a lifestyle is often unremarked by the heroine, which suggests that his crap really doesn’t stink or she has a fetish for, er, pungent-smelling bodies—and a proper, bossy, and smart heroine is something Loretta Chase has done before. She’s done this more than once, actually, and not only for full length stories—The Mad Earl’s Bride is one of my favorite stories from the author.
So, am I mad that she does this again in Ten Things I Hate About the Duke? Not really. Sure, this one resembles much the author’s past titles that have a similar theme, but she has a way with rascals and these rascals need a strong woman to keep them in line.
What I do feel disappointed by is how this one just feels like one long anticlimax after the first few chapters.
Oh, and this is the second entry in the Difficult Dukes series, and I would personally suggest that folks read the previous entry first before tackling this one. This is because the hero of this one, Lucius Wilmot Beckingham, featured heavily as part of the plot of the previous entry, as the sixth Duke of Ashmont was more or less the other man in that story, and a significant chunk of the early act is about the fallout from his antics in that other book.
Also, a few key characters here were first introduced in the previous entry, and their established relationships with the main characters may require some time for a newbie reader to figure out.
So yes, I’d recommend reading the previous one first to folks that want to read this thing but haven’t read the previous entry.
On to the story. After his intended bride married one of his BFFs, Ashmont gets involved in a duel and the next morning haphazardly fires his weapon and causes a carriage accident that nearly kills our heroine Cassandra Pomfret’s groom and occasional bodyguard. Let’s remember this, because the author seems to forget later on.
Because she has to stay at an inn and care for her groom, in the company of an unmarried man. our heroine will surely be ruined should word gets out. Oh well, it can’t get any worse for her when it comes to her reputation, as Cassandra is a feminist that doesn’t shy away from confronting all and sundry to have her say and be heard. Dubbed Gorgon, Medusa, and more for her efforts, she has earned her father’s ire to the point that he announces that her younger sister will not marry until she does. Oh boy, won’t he be thrilled with her latest misadventure; sure, she’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Polite Society won’t be so understanding.
This one has much in common with the titles I’ve mentioned, and Cassandra may even get compared to the heroine of The Last Hellion due to their similar outspoken nature and personal crusades, but there are some differences. Whether these differences are mere cosmetic or significant—well, I’m sure some people will think it’s the former, while others will say it’s the latter. Considering what a disappointment this one is, I’d say it doesn’t matter one bit in the end for me.
Let’s start with Ashmont. I really cringe at his antics in the beginning, because he is actively endangering people—people in lesser positions of privilege and hence are unable to stand up to him in any way. Also, the author does her usual thing and have Ashmont automatically becomes sober and coherent when the guy needs to shape up and resemble a romance hero, but it’s hard for me to forget that he could have easily killed, and in fact, nearly did, people with his drunken antics.
On the other hand, he is far more introspective and self-aware than many of the author’s past heroes of this nature, and there is a lovely poetry in the flashback scenes to when he and Cassandra encountered one another when they were much younger. However, I feel that these work well with me because the author’s ability to use words to evoke vivid scenes and hard feels is top tier, rather than Ashmont being a compelling character in his own right.
As for Cassandra, on one hand, I like that her apparent recklessness has a method behind the apparent madness. She knows that very few people will take her seriously, but when she creates a circus and people will write and talk about her, she may still get the word out about feminism to people.
Also, I love how the author includes here a scene of Polite Society throwing a charity sale, which only underscores starkly the contrast between the heroine’s activism and the virtue signaling of the other members of Polite Society. The sale is an excuse for the blue-blooded toffs to preen, outdo one another, and sniff out potential spouses and shag-mates, rather than a genuine case to help the underprivileged. All of this makes the heroine’s actions far more reasonable and even important in context.
However, I’m not sure what the author is trying to do with Cassandra; our heroine comes off often as someone that wants to eat her cake too. She loves her sister, but she doesn’t want to stop doing what she does, even if it would lead to her sister being collateral damage. Of course, we know that this will never happen and the whole set-up is an excuse for the author to do her The Taming of the Shrew thing, but nonetheless Cassandra comes off pretty poorly in that regard.
Also, while she doesn’t care a bit about her reputation, Cassandra seems unwilling to even entertain the notion of marrying a duke, one that she clearly can trample over without much effort, would be the perfect solution for her situation. Ashmont has no good reputation to uphold, so no one will blink an eye if the duchess would continue her disreputable harridan ways. At the same time, she would gain a measure of protection against censures due to her status—hey, I’m just going with romance novel logic here—and her sister won’t have to worry so much about no one wanting to marry her. Plus, this will also get her father off her back.
No, instead, our heroine goes off on a tirade about Ashmont’s bad morals, et cetera, like she’s a Puritan. She already says many times she doesn’t want a real marriage, so what’s to stop her from being pragmatic and using her marriage to Ashmont as a leverage for her crusade to make even more impact?
At any rate, Cassandra comes off as an inferior version of Lydia Grenville.
Still, these two have chemistry, so it’s all the more bewildering that the author does her best to keep them apart as much as possible. Oh, it makes sense, I suppose, as Ashmont doesn’t know what he wants and Cassandra can’t get over herself to see the advantages of a marriage to Ashmont. Well that and the author having an excuse to keep the story going for as long as it does.
However, this means that the story is about two people in a push and pull game, and they only end up together because circumstances and necessity keep drawing them back to one another. It’s hard to care for a romance when the main characters appear to be together because of circumstance or destiny, and that their chemistry is often interrupted by separations after each encounter.
Also, there is a Sabrina Jeffries-quality to the romance, in that the heroine constantly subjects the hero to a purity test. Sure, one can say that, well, many heroes do that to romance heroines, so turnabout is fair play. Thing is, Cassandra switches the passing parameters for the test so often, it makes her appear fickle and even petty at times. In the end, when she decides that she loves Ashmont… well, normally I would say that it’s great that a heroine knows what she wants, but here, it just underscores that she’s far more interested in how she feels than in how he feels in this relationship of theirs.
Yeah, I have an uneasy feeling about the longevity of their relationship!
Oh, and one more thing: remember how Ashmont is basically driving under the influence and nearly kills people at the beginning of the story? Oh, it’s okay, he has waved his money and lofty status around to make some amends; we should all love him now. On the other hand, there’s a female character here that is expected to be clobbered with the reader’s hatred and disgust because she dares to be petty, vindictive, and spiteful. Sure, her antics ended up hardly making a dent in the long run, but oh my god, people, hate her, cancel her.
Seriously? Where’s the sense of perspective here? I know, female characters are second rate passengers in the romance genre, worthy of note only if they could meet the standards of the genre to play the heroine or an enabler of heroine, but I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe at this vast disparity between the “Love the hero no matter what he does, because he’s such a woobie!” and “She’s a bitch to our hero and heroine, HANG HER!” threads running in this story.
Anyway, I’ve seen people say that they hope the author will come up with the next book in this series a little faster. Considering how Difficult Dukes has so far been an inferior retread of the Scoundrels series, I’m going to be the contrarian here and say we let the author take however long she needs to come up with something that will knock me off of my feet. This one just doesn’t work for me; I’d rather be reading the books that donated their DNA to this baby.
