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271 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 6, 2012
Sometimes love is an accident.The Duchess War is the first full length novel in Courtney Milan’s Brothers Sinister series, and a story that I've been looking forward to. Having read The Governess Affair, the prequel to this story, and having read the epilogue that sets up this book, I knew that what was to come would be a wonderful, emotional read, but this... it was so much more than I had hoped for.
This time, it’s a strategy.
Cover blurb: Miss Minerva Lane is a quiet, bespectacled wallflower, and she wants to keep it that way. After all, the last time she was the center of attention, it ended badly--so badly that she changed her name to escape her scandalous past. Wallflowers may not be the prettiest of blooms, but at least they don't get trampled. So when a handsome duke comes to town, the last thing she wants is his attention.Let me get this said right up front. This book is brilliant. The way Ms. Milan writes historical romances, the way she uses the ridiculous social standards of the times to not only hinder her characters but to make them triumphant – yes. Brilliant.
But that is precisely what she gets.
Because Robert Blaisdell, the Duke of Clermont, is not fooled. When Minnie figures out what he's up to, he realizes there is more to than her spectacles and her quiet ways. And he's determined to lay her every secret bare before she can discover his. But this time, one shy miss may prove to be more than his match…













He’d obviously expected her to swallow that codswallop about her hair, because he paused, slightly taken aback. And then, he gave her a shake of his head and a grin. “Come, Miss Pursling,” he said. “Men wouldn’t ask any such thing. They’d already know what caught my eye.” He leaned forward and whispered in conspiratorial fashion. “It’s your tits.”
**********
“Of course I’m overmatched.” He was lightly stroking her cheek. “The male of the human species has a fundamental flaw. At the moment when we most want to say something clever and impressive, all the blood rushes from our brains.”
“It does?”
“Physiological fact,” His Grace said. “Arousal makes me stupid. It makes me say idiotic things like ‘I like your tits’ and, ‘Help, we’ve had a paste emergency over here.’ It makes me want to stay around you even though I know I’m overmatched, even though I’m sure you’re going to win.” His voice lowered. “You see, I want to watch you do it.”
**********
“I think,” he said carefully, “that given the amount of use I put my left hand to, I really shouldn’t qualify as a virgin. I’ve had scores of sexual experiences. Just… not with other people. I wasn’t saving myself for marriage.”
Just for you.
*************************
She shook her head. "Don’t tell me to look up. Don’t ask me to want. If I do, I’ll never survive."
**********
The boundaries of her life pressed in on her like prison walls.
**********
Minnie hadn’t just taken on a new name when her great-aunts took her away; she’d taken on a new personality. She hadn’t even known how to walk like a girl at first. For that initial year, her great-aunts had constantly corrected her behavior. Don’t contradict. Don’t speak up. Don’t step forward. Anything that drew attention was absolutely forbidden; she’d found herself shrinking smaller and smaller until a walnut could have encompassed her personality—and left room for it to rattle around.
*********
"She looked away. “I need more time.”
“Time? Time for what?” Lydia demanded.
But Robert held up his hand. “Then have it,” he said. “Think it through from all angles. Consider your strategies, if you must, and advance your supply lines. Whatever it is you must do to feel secure.” He flashed her a smile, a confident smile. A smile that said he knew she wouldn’t turn him down.
“Take your time,” he said, stepping closer to her and leaning in. “And in the end, Minnie, take me.”
**********
Sebastian grinned. “On the eve of your wedding, Robert, we shall offer you the sorts of female delights that you have always lusted after. Philosophical tracts upon philosophical tracts, all of them advocating political change that would result in an upheaval of the current social order. We shall set forth their essays, and then…” He paused, as if for dramatic emphasis. “Then, my friends, we shall argue about them!”
**********
“You’re marrying my son in three days. You know it will be a complete disaster.”
**********
"[...] The world rarely cares for my inclinations. When matters don’t go my way, there’s only one thing to do.” [...]
“What is that?” Minnie asked. [...]
“Do you like cats, Miss Pursling?” [...]
“Have you ever seen a cat attempt to pounce on a target, and miss?”
“Of course.”
“And what does the cat do?” [The duchess] didn’t wait for an answer. “It acts as if it intended to miss. ‘Yes,’ it says, ‘I let that one go as a warning to all the others. Now I shall lick my paws for the next five minutes, precisely as I had planned.’”
**********
He knew that many of his compatriots avoided marriage at all costs. They saw matrimony as an annoyance, a wife as another person who would nag and prod. But when he repeated his vows, he heard “as long as we both shall live” and he hoped.
**********
“Assume I said something bloody brilliant,” he muttered.
**********
He’d told her that he had no expectation of love.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in love. The thought of love was like water in the desert. Now there was a stupid cliché, one that made him think of a man in ragged clothing staggering through the Sahara, searching for an oasis among the sand dunes.
But the Antarctic was a desert, too—a cold desert, one made dry because water there turned to ice the instant it hit the air.
So he believed in love. He’d always believed in love. He’d been surrounded by water all his life; it had simply been frozen solid. He’d loved as hard as he dared and watched it freeze before his face.It was no surprise now when he checked his feelings and discovered that he loved her. The surprise was that this time, when he dared to take a sip, he found water instead of ice.
He could have wept.
**********
“Well?” Mr. Charingford said. “What is it that you see instead?”
“I see Minnie.” His voice caught. “I see who she might have been in ten years, when her great-aunts’ health faded away.”
Mr. Charingford drew in a sharp breath.
“I see your daughter if the market for hosiery should vanish.”
“Not Lydia,” Charingford said in shocked tones. “Surely not…” But he trailed away unhappily.
“I see who my brother might have been if another man hadn’t stepped in to raise him. I see my childhood cook, if I hadn’t pensioned her off. The only person I don’t see is myself.” He let his hands trail over the catwalk. “I have never been there, and I never will. The only thing I understand now is that I cannot comprehend what it is like to stand on a factory floor and look up and sing.”
‘His voice was rough when he spoke again. “So beat me to flinders,” he said. “Win. Overmatch me, Minnie. And when we’re alone…”
His fingers touched her chin lightly.
“When we’re alone,” he whispered, “look up.”
He could have tilted her chin, forcing her to do so. But his forefinger remained warm and steady on her face. He waited, and in the end, Minnie couldn’t help herself. She looked up.’![]()
“I’m sure your prick is as massive as your head is thick.”
“You see, there’s this woman. [...] Normally, one might say that there was a beautiful woman—but I don’t think she qualifies as a classical beauty. Still, I find that when she’s around, I’d rather look at her than anyone else. [...] There’s something about her that draws my eye. Something that defies words. Maybe it’s her hair, but I tried to tell her that, and she told me I was being ridiculous. I suppose I was. Maybe it’s her lips. Maybe it’s her eyes, although she so rarely looks at me. [...] She’s clever. Every time I see her I discover that I’ve underestimated her prowess. She ties me in knots.
[...] So beat me to flinders. Win. Overmatch me, Minnie. And when we’re alone…”
His fingers touched her chin lightly. “When we��re alone,” he whispered, “look up.”
