Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Entry #1

Meanwhile, the Big Misunderstanding:

His name is actually Duncan Powerthrush and his love interest turns out to be his twin sister, separated at birth.  Or his mother (no wait, Sophocles already did that).

Entry #2

“You don’t understand,” Duncan growled. “It’s true that I said I could never marry a highwayman. I have the title to think of—how could the next Duke of Stonedick be the son of a common thief?”

Tears filled Jessalynn’s eyes, which were the same shade of blue as Duncan’s balls after one of her infamous cockteases. She ran to the door. 

“Not again! Wait, damn it! You didn’t hear the rest. I said I could never marry a highwayman—UNLESS it was the fair Jessalynn Honeybiscuit in disguise, robbing coaches so that her nine siblings could go to Eton or have London seasons, according to their gender, and her spendthrift father could continue to whore and gamble away the family fortune!”

He spun Jessalynn around and ripped off her fake mustache. 

“Marry me,” he murmured, before slowly licking off the mustache glue that clung to her upper lip.

Entry #3

Duncan Larksthrush stared, disbelieving. Before him lay Countess Alicia Hymennbultham in the thrall of Roderigo, his ex-stepcousin and mortal enemy!

“My darling,” he cried, still unable to tear his eyes from the golden-feathered eagle mask that his rival wore – the same mask the monks had constructed so Duncan might tease the voluptuous ornithologist. How Roderigo had intercepted his mute messenger, Duncan couldn’t know – though now that he thought about it, Roderigo’s tutor’s daughter had been seen in the village, and with the debt the poor scholar owed Roderigo, it could very well have been a case of beauty slaying the beast.

Hopefully not literally. Duncan made a note to look for his messenger.

But how could Alicia fall so willingly for the ploy? Hadn’t she asked the golden-masked cad the secret question he had detailed in his letter? Why did this torment him so?

Could he still love her?

Entry #4

“Devil take you Duncan Thrushbush! I may be your illegitimate half brother’s gypsy-blooded foster sister, but that doesn’t mean that my child, who bears a marked resemblance to you, as well has having the Duke of Rockthrust’s telltale birthmark, is his!” Esmeralda D’Amour’s heaving strained the laces on her already too tight bodice as she flung her sun dappled golden tresses over her creamy bare shoulder contemptuously.

Rockthrust glowered ravenously at his beautiful buxom beloved who had betrayed him so abominably with is own bastard brother. His sinewy arms snaked out, wrapping Esmeralda in his steely grip as he devoured her with his stone cold grey eyes.  “I saw that cur in your bed, the night that the child you claim is mine was conceived in rapturous love-making, with my own piercing gaze.”

“Dearest,” Esmeralda whispered achingly, “You were looking into a mirror above my bed and mistook yourself for him.”

Entry #5

“I would never leave you, Duncan.  Darling, your base-born gypsy half-brother kidnapped me and left me on the windswept promontory of Rannoch Moor.  He swore to hurt my poor, penniless father if I told you.  After Papa wagered me at faro, Crofter MacDougal was to hide me and protect my virtue.  Yet, thinking me a poor tenant, you used my nubile body to satisfy your fiery lust!” cried Arden.  “Your bastard kin promised to bring me to my father.”

“Damn you, Arden.  Why did you not tell me you were a de Vere?  I cringe to think that I have sullied your lustrous innocence with the proud passion of Rockthrust.  When you greeted my brother at our engagement ball last night, I was overwhelmed with rage, thinking you were ablaze with desire for him.  Forgive me, my sweet,” Duncan groaned.

Her eyes shone with devotion as she replied, “Always.”

Entry #6

“Tell me, beautiful Dell,” Duncan breathed into her apple-scented hair, “why do you deny my love so?  What password will gain entry to your heart?”

She sighed and turned away, staring over the vista.  “I can no longer hide it from you.  You, Duncan Larksthrush, Duke of Rocksthrust, are a proud member of Clan Macintosh, whereas I—“

“Yes, my dearest?” he whispered, praying her response would allow him into her network.

“I am a member of the De Fenetre family, those your people call Windows.  So you see that our love is forever hopeless.”

His heart accessed joy for the first time in many cycles.  “But Dell, then there is no incompatibility at all!  See the two pairs of footwear I sport—did you not realize that I am a dual-boot Macintosh?”

Dell crashed into his embrace.

Entry #7

Duncan hastily adjusted his inexpressibles. Finch had warned him that Lady Heliotrope was this very moment mounting the stairs. If only were she mounting Duncan.  No lady of quality would be so bold. And yet no lady should visit a gentleman in his home. Perhaps---

Heliotrope burst in, her russet curls disarrayed. “You bounder!” She struck him with her reticule.

“Hell, what’s wrong?” asked Duncan, protecting his placket with long elegant fingers. Undeterred, Heliotrope tore his pants, revealing yards of bunched-up batting.

“I knew it!” she cried triumphantly. “You are too pretty to be a man. It’s Donna, is it not?”

Duncan swished his leonine mane. “What if it is?”

Heliotrope’s hazel eyes misted. “I remember the nights at Miss Hornblower’s Academy.”

“As do I, Hell. And this way we can be together always. Marry me.”

“Oh, yes!” She fell into his arms with joy.

Entry #8

Duncan’s chiseled jaw gaped with shock, his loins tightened unbearably at Lady Iphiginia’s revelation. His muscled arms swept his hotly blushing betrothed against the officer’s uniform covering his rock hard chest. Duncan probed her gaze as he rocked her against the evidence of his desire, watching the unmistakable passion flowering across her face and down her body. Oh, no. She was not the innocent he had thought.

“I struggled mightily to contain my manly lust,” he groaned. “You seemed so chaste. I had to protect you from myself upon returning from war to make you my bride!”

“Oh, Duncan!” exclaimed Iphiginia pulling him towards the settee, long hidden desire flaring in her gaze. “I was so anxious you would reject me when you learned that I had discovered passion and explosive release long ago with my childhood friend and ladies’ maid Mabel!” Shuddering, Duncan pressed her back against the cushions.

Entry #9

“Did you think I would not spy you with Fiona?” wailed Roxanna Liberty. “In my own flowerbeds, the lavish tending of which has helped me forget the unfortunate demise of my impotent husband at sea?”

“You misunderstand!” cried Duncan. “Due to the machinations of Fiona’s wizard ex-lover, a transdimensional warphole was opened in her fantasy-canyon in order to allow his army of secret babies to enter and subjugate this world with their infant fury and questionable paternity. The only way to bend the forces of the warphole in her funhole to my will was to use the powers of the Sceptre Stone!”

“The Sceptre Stone,” Roxanna gasped. “The one on your…”

“Sceptre?” Duncan finished. “Don’t you remember? I had it pierced for our one-week anniversary.”

“Forgive me!” Roxanna begged. “God only knows the sacrifices you made plumbing Fiona’s southmouth in order to spare us the horror of secret babies.”

Entry #10

Pain ripped through Duncan Thrustwood, Duke of Amnesiacshire, and tore at old scars.

Ivulka’s figure was a graceful poem. “Duncan, this is Brother Frodo McChayste, our ancient family priest.”

Duncan could barely see the monk’s enormous hairy feet through the red haze that obscured his vision. He snarled, manfully.

“I know Ivanka’s betrayal damaged your trust in women,” continued Ivulka, “So he is one of my permanent escorts.”

Orgies! Duncan smouldered.

“And Brother Frodo is a eunuch.”

Such shopworn excuses could not deceive Duncan – he had read those Robin Schone books. He growled.

“And here is unequivocal proof of my loyalty, a...”

Duncan could no longer bear to listen. He achingly inserted strong fingers into his well-shaped ears. “La la laaaa. I can’t heeeear you,” he roared.

“Duncan."Her limpid blue eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion. “What troubles you?”

“Ivulka, stop. Your reckless understanding will make this a novella. I will not be able to demonstrate my unplumbed depths of pain, my wide emotional ranges. I need conflict. I need angst. I need torment.”

“Oh Duncan,” she said softly, “We could argue about spanking.”

Duncan’s well-shaped lips curved into a smile. The Jezebel – she was with child!

Entry #11

Duncan Larksthrush raised his hand, swept back his manly mane, and strode into the drawing room.  “Would you be Miss Applebottom?” he inquired.

The woman on the settee pursed her cherry lips before responding, “I am.”

Duncan was confused.  This woman looked unlike the bitter old hag he had been expecting.  Miss Applebottom looked young, in a well cut pink dress, that hugged womanly curves, her blonde hair swept back from her face.

“Do you care to explain this?” Larksthrush held a picture out.

“I am not sure what you mean,” Penelope replied, although she was afraid she did.  Somehow Larksthrush had discovered that she had been using his visage for novel covers.  Novels that as a lady she was not supposed to know of, and certainly not supposed to read for fear that people might think she was of lesser intelligence.  This had all the makings of a disaster.

Seems I have to face a sad fact about myself and my romance reading: I might have grown accustomed to being spoon-fed the antagonists and the forces acting against the protagonists. Maybe I’ve been reading too many paranormal evil-as-villain stories, or maybe I’ve been missing out, but clearly, I’m much better a romance reader for having read this story.

Lucien’s Fall, as evidenced by the title, is a romance that focuses mainly on the transformation of the hero, Lucien Harrow, Lord Esher. A terrible rake, a Lord Slut, even, Lucien is invited to a house party thrown by the incomparably beautiful Juliette, more appropriately known as Countess Whitethorn. Juliette’s stepdaughter, Madeline, is making a late entrance into society, and her stepmother is attempting to create an engagement between Madeline and Charles Devon, Marquess of Beauchamp, a man of considerable fortune. The Whitethorn estate, and the family living on it, are deeply in debt, and the house itself is falling down bit by bit. Juliette sacrificed jewelry to host the house party and clothe Madeline attractively, and scored quite a social coup by securing Lucien’s attendance. Lucien’s friend Jonathan is also Juliette’s current lover.

Lucien is a tortured hero like few others in romance. He’s tortured by his own actions, or inaction, his history, his past affairs, and by his own mind and body. As a result he’s barely functional in social situations half the time, and his reputation for outrageous behavior makes ample room for more of the same.

Madeline, however, is unimpressed - well, better to say she’s impressed but smart enough not to show any hint of interest. She knows that her bread is best buttered by an alliance with Beauchamp, and an affair with Lucien would lead only to ruin. Madeline is set on saving her home, Whitethorn, most specifically the gardens, which are her passion. She delayed her debut into society so she could travel the Continent and learn more about gardens and botany, and her goal is to restore the home and grounds with a marriage to a rich man. She’s not mercenary about it by any means, but she is honest with herself and her stepmother: there is no marriage for love in her future. And while Lucien attracts her, and he certainly has a fortune to spare, she knows he is not the sort to marry.

One of the most innovative and charming features of the story is the depth to which both Lucien and Madeline recognize their own roles as Rake Hero and Perfect Heroine. Well-schooled by a socially-aware stepmother, Madeline is more than conscious of her need to keep Lucien away from herself, as he would think nothing of ruining a virgin and walking away. But the almost meta-conversations they have on the topic are fascinating:

Behind her came footsteps.... Madeline smiled, unsurprised. “Join me, Lord Esher,” she said without turning.

“How did you know it was I without looking around?”

Madeline looked up at him. “I think there must be a book of rake’s etiquette,” she said lightly. “First rule is one must always follow one’s prey into a moonswept night.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “Well done.... What then would be my next step?”

Madeline straightened, knowing she must not show any hint of shyness or of blushing sensibility. If she were to put him off properly, he had to understand she knew well any technique he might attempt. “That would depend on the woman, of course, and the rake.... Pray tell, then, what tack you’ve chosen for your foray into my seduction.”

“Are you absolutely certain I’ve chosen to seduce you?”

“Yes, though you didn’t make up your mind until supper” (Samuel 27).

How completely refreshing to have two characters acknowledge their roles, and their awareness of the other’s motivations. This meta-conversation happens a few other times in the course of the story, and it’s wonderful. Madeline makes it clear that she’s on to whatever plans Lucien comes up with, and she calls him on his behavior each and every time he is less than genuine with her and falls back on his libido-driven actions aimed solely at the flower that is not in her gardens. He gets very little leeway with her and she won’t tolerate any of his rake-ful behavior, not matter how affected she is by her own very real attraction to him.

Lucien himself is delicious, and I say that as an admitted sucker for the tortured, artistic hero. Lucien is a gifted individual with a talent for musical composition, a talent he was forced to squelch due to abuse and pressure after a personal humiliation and tragedy. He pays for his attempts to ignore his gift with blinding headaches, but when he meets Madeline, he sees a parallel to his own gift in her love and talent for gardening, and the health that comes with embracing one’s passions. Madeline begins to see what Lucien tries very deliberately to hide: the heartless rake he appears to be hides an enormously sensitive synesthete who can experience colors as sound, specifically classical music.

His efforts to deny his gifts and hide his emotional and musical sensitivity are reflections of his ability to hide or squander any good intentions he might have of behaving with honor. Thus his music and his morals are tied to one another as Lucien faces his own demons and acknowledges that he must change himself and modify his own behavior if he wants to become worthy of Madeline.

Therein lies my one problem with the book: Madeline herself. Lucien has to endure a great deal of effort to turn his actions and intentions in an honorable direction, and his template for honorable is Madeline, who refuses to accept his habitual rake routine. But Madeline in my estimation does not grow or change as much, and her goodness brings forgiveness much too easily when her own actions hurt, humiliate, and mistreat those who have been kind and honest with her. She is self-aware enough to recognize that the marquess to whom she could be engaged is subject to the same forced treatment from her that she suffers from Lucien: interest solely for the purpose of attracting a person for selfish ends. Lucien wants to bed her; she wants the security of the marquess’ fortune to save her home. Her goals might be slightly more altruistic but they are selfish in origin, and she knows it. Even with that self awareness, Madeline seems to get away with minimal consequences for some very selfish behavior throughout the story.

The ending itself also gave me trouble, and far be it from me to spoil it. But to sum up: she didn’t choose him. She allowed herself to be chosen or even taken over and over again, even as her own selfishness made her less and less worthy of him while he became more worthy of her.

By far the best part of the book for me was the writing, specifically the characters. Samuel does not take the easy way out with any of the emotional entanglements working against Madeline and Lucien. Her mother is not in favor of any interaction between them, and will risk her own happiness to ensure that her daughter does not end up a rake’s victim. But even as she interferes, the reader is privy to enough of her character and motivation that even though I hated what she tries to do, I understood and empathized with her position. Equally, Samuel could have easily made Charles, Marquess Beauchamp, a villain, a shallow fool, or even a non-character. But as Madeline’s intended fiance, he’s not as attractive as Lucien, but he’s a good, kind, honorable man, and the complete and deliberate opposite of Lucien. He pays attention to his responsibilities and those whose lives depend on his estate management skills, and he chooses those responsibilities over frivolity and vice. To witness Madeline caught in the choice of peaceful marriage without love, and passionate love without the defined promise of marriage isn’t any easier for the reader than it is for Madeline herself, because again Samuel’s ability to create completely defined secondary characters makes the story that much more lush and moving.

The Rules

In under 150 words, compose a the big reveal to a really honking Big Misunderstanding between Duncan and his fine heroine. Send it to Sarah and Candy by Tuesday, December 19.

We’ll post the entries, y’all will vote, hilarity will ensue.

Winners will receive the Smart Bitch Title, unless one is already a peeress, in which case we’ll promote you for acts of written valor, and a gift certificate to Amazon.com for $25.00US.

Duncan’s happiness? It all depends on you.

Sarah: Hey, Candy, pass the bonbons.