After I mentioned that my library didn’t have this book, the lovely Malin sent it to me, along with books 2-4 in the series. I tried a little bit to resist reading this because I have so many other books I should be reading, but I made it barely to noon the next day before I caved.
Basically, this book was fun. Malin is the best.
The Duke and I is the first book in Julia Quinn’s Bridgertons series, which follows the immense Bridgerton clan, as they live and love (of course) in Regency England. It’s somewhat of a genre classic, and Julia Quinn is a very popular author in the genre, so I’ve been meaning to read her for quite a while, especially since I’m almost out of Courtney Milans and Tessa Dares. This was a fun book, but the writing was a little overly cheesy in points, and it definitely relies on genre cliches in a way that I’m not used to any more (spoiled by all the Milan and Dare, etc). But it was fun, minus the handling of one questionable scene.
This first book follows Daphne Bridgerton, the eldest Bridgerton daughter (she has three older brothers). Daphne has never had a suitor she would actually consider–she feels that all the young men of her set think of her as a friend rather than a potential wife. Enter Simon Basset, the Duke of Hastings. Simon has been out of the country for seven years, but now that his estranged father is dead, it’s time to return and take charge of his inheritance. Due to his own history, Simon plans never to marry, and certainly never to have children. Both of them are tired of the social whirl and being endlessly paraded before potential suitors. They cook up a plan to form a fake attachment so everyone will leave them alone, so of course, they fall in love. But you knew that.
I liked both Simon and Daphne (for the most part). I was immediately drawn to Simon as a character, as the book opens with a prologue detailing his early life, and just exactly why he had such a terrible relationship with his father. It’s necessary backstory if you’re to understand why he acts the way he does through the rest of the novel. Simon and Daphne are really good together. They shore up each other’s weaknesses.
The only part of the book I actively disliked featured some questionable consent issues between Daphne and Simon. Daphne does something totally reprehensible, which is fine if you want to go there, but I don’t think she or the book fully owns up to just how awful her actions were.
That lone problem aside, this was just a fun, fluffy, mindless way to spend a couple of hours, and I’m definitely going to continue the series, probably beyond the next three books that Malin sent me.
[3.5 stars]
1. I love a marriage of convenience.
2. I agree with you about Daphne’s actions.
3. Books 3 and 4 are the best ones, NO ONE DENIES THIS!
I’m excited to get to read 3 and 4! Particularly the Cinderella retelling.
woohoo!
I really liked 5, too.
I’m re-reading book 5 (which is currently on sale for 1.99, if anyone wants it cheap) now. Am enjoying it a lot so far, but remember it as one of the lesser ones overall. Will be fun to see if I agree with me of the past or not. I rated book 4 a whole star higher this time around.
You show your good sense by picking up on the consent issues in this book on your first read. :) I am still utterly embarrassed that I missed it the first time I read it. On my second read I kept flipping the damn book around to make sure it was the right one because I found that part SO problematic and didn’t remember it at all. Book 2 is even better, and 3 & 4 are definitely the best.
I don’t think you should be embarrassed. I don’t think I would have caught it even if I would have read it before even five years ago. I think people are a lot more aware of that kind of thing now.
I KNOW a large portion of the romance books I used to filch from my mom’s shelves in the 1990s were rapey as hell (a lot of them were published in the 80s, or earlier), and I enjoyed a lot of them very much at the time. I’m sure I would be horrified if I read them now.
I loved Judith McNaught back in the day and those novels were, as you say, rapey as hell; specifically, the heroes use rape as a punishment and realise their mistake mid-assault or, worse yet, the heroine’s body “betrays her” and she ends up enjoying the interaction. EWWWWW.
When I started reading romance again in 2012, I revisited McNaught’s Once and Always in which I believe he rapes her once and threatens beatings. Almost Heaven help up though. Ian Thornton still made me swoon, even McNaught’s 1980s books always seemed to feature a beautiful, very young, victim of circumstance. I much prefer the wallflowers now.