Wendy Soliman
Of Dukes and Deceptions
Carina Press, March 14, 2011, $4.99
When Nicholas Buchanan, the Duke of Dorchester, accepts an invitation to visit a country stud farm, he counters his boredom by striking a wager with his henchman that he’ll bed the poor relation, Alicia Woodley, before the end of his stay. But he reckons without Alicia’s disdain. She’s disgusted by Nick’s cavalier attitude, unimpressed by his grandeur and wants as little as possible to do with him.
Between her newfound role as family charity case and fending off the attentions of both her clueless cousin and the arrogant Nicholas, Alicia Woodley has quite enough to contend with . . . but when her life is endangered, quite possibly from those closest to her, surprisingly it is Nicholas who seems determined to ensure her safety. As they conspire to uncover secrets that the family wants hidden at all costs, they discover a passion that surpasses all obstacles.
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The Trope That Wasn’t . . . and the One That Was
Wendy Soliman’s Of Dukes and Deceptions isn’t a great read, although the author demonstrates a flair for descriptive language that appealed to the lexophile in me. So why am I writing about it? Because when I reached the obligatory “let’s stop at this vacant outbuilding on the estate so that we don’t catch our death of cold in the rain” scene, they didn’t. Do it, I mean. Hooray!
Years ago, author Marianne Stillings pointed out that “the abandoned estate cottage is such a worn device. There must be conveniently abandoned cottages every ten feet in England, just filled to bursting with lords and ladies having impromptu trysts. I’m surprised they all don’t bump into each other on the way out.” Truer words were never spoken.
In this particular instance, the estate’s outbuilding was not a cottage, it was a barn. And yet, I actually put my Kindle down when I reached the scene . . . I simply did not want to read yet another version of it. It’s hard from a 21st century perspective to keep in mind that there were no antibiotics in Regency England, and that they engaged in gruesome medical “remedies” such as bloodletting. How many of our own mothers covered us from head to toe in at the merest drizzle, not making the connection that people get sick in the winter because of viruses, not rain? And my mother's generation isn't the only one; I'm pretty sure I kept my own child as dry as possible on rainy days.
Even so, if I asked you to count the number of historical romances you’ve read in which the abandoned outbuilding led to a bit of afternoon delight, I imagine you might run out of fingers and toes before you finished. So when I reached that scene in Soliman’s book and, instead of the virtuous heroine falling prey to the duke with no good on his mind and his sexy talk about what horses do—and she refused—I was thrilled.
As for the trope that was, well, it’s that duke thing. There are nearly as many dukes running around ye olde England as there are empty cottages ready for trysting. And most, as with the Duke of Dorchester, are Dukes of Slut. In fact, he’s so slutty that shortly after meeting the heroine, he determines she shall yield to him, which is why he so nicely tells his valet very early on, “I want her to look at me like that, just once, preferably when she’s spread-eagled beneath me on a feather mattress. Won’t leave this place until she does.” There’s an irony to the duke’s entitled behavior, though, and it illustrates why, as a lexophile, I like the author’s prose. It fits the era and reads as the lingual equivalent to a singer’s perfect pitch:
His Grace the Duke of Dorchester was accustomed to being pandered to. Obsequiousness came high on the list of attitudes he was compelled to endure. Deferential, sycophantic, and unctuous behavior was also much in evidence in his dealings with the lower classes. He must have become immune to it all over the years because he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had dared to refer to him as an idiot . . . His anger drained away in the face of the woman’s refreshing attitude and he decided to help her anyway.
Soliman’s prose not only fits the era and is pitch perfect, it’s deadly accurate in conveying character when describing the thoughts that run through the entitled duke’s mind. Below are but a few early examples.
His surprise when considering Alicia’s lack of artifice:
Nick had never encountered a female who didn’t live in expectation of balls, fabulous clothes, and as much flirting as could be artfully contrived under the gimlet eye of an attentive chaperone.
His immediate reaction upon meeting Alicia’s cousin:
Nick hadn’t known there was a son. The young man seemed to find it an almighty effort to rise to his feet and bow. That he was a dandy was immediately obvious from his apparel. The points of his collar were so high that he was in danger of impaling himself if he turned his head too quickly.
While playing his cat and mouse game with Alicia:
He was still holding her hand and a frisson ricocheted through him when their eyes clashed. From her heightened colour and quizzical expression, it was apparent that she felt it too . . . Nick . . . audaciously winked at her . . . [and] smothered a satisfied grim, pleased to have set the parameters for the game he intended to play with her.
The book is filled with delicious prose. As for the story itself, well . . .
Eventually the hero discovers his conscience, his protective instincts come to the fore, and they actually do the deed, after even more sexy talk about horses. Soliman enlivens her leads with humor-brimming dialog—including a running joke about his “rampant” desires—and more than a slight amount of kink, but the storyline fails them because the heroine’s family is, in a word, awful, in a ridiculous way. As a result many of the plot points in the book’s second half are, because of their shenanigans, cringe-worthy.
If you’re a lexophile like me, you’ll find a goodly amount to to enjoy here, although for the life of me I don’t get the sexy talk about horses. Beware, though, that at times your eyes will roll back into your head when the heroine’s family does something dastardly but silly. Thankfully these episodes are short-lived, but the plot in Soliman's book was not worthy of its hero and heroine.
For more about this book, visit www.wendysoliman.com.
Laurie Gold cannot stop reading and writing about romance—she’s been blabbing online for years. She remains a work in progress. Be one of the few who visits her at Toe in the Water or follow her may-be-too-political-for-you tweets at @laurie_gold.
