“Does it matter? Your age?” “It does indeed. A bit.”

Poor Genevieve Eversea. She’s in love with a simple prat, or so she thinks, because she’s “loved” him since childhood and that naive imagining of love is all she knows. Luckily for her, her brother Ian is also a prat, and a particular indiscretion of his leaves one Duke, Alex Moncrieffe, without a betrothed and with the Eversea family on his radar. Having a vengeful Duke set his sights upon you or your family could so easily be the set-up of a thriller or tale of triumph against a pompous aristocrat, but this is a romance, so the Duke is mysterious but not scheming, and seductive but not creepy.

Poor Alex Moncrieffe. With one wife buried — and people suspecting him of killing her — and his would-be second wife turning up in bed with someone younger, he’s feeling jaded and no longer fit for the coquettish courtship rituals as befit his position. He’d like to find a wife and real love, but thinks that opportunity may be beyond him, so in the meantime he’ll settle for seducing the sister of the man who ruined his most recent chance at happiness.

Alex is up against a lot in Genevieve: in the first place, she’s young; in the second, she’s reserved (or at least appears that way); in the third, she loves someone else. But owing to the wisdom and keen perception that perhaps he earned with his age, he is able to see Genevieve in way no one, not even her closest family members, have before. Where everyone reads her as practical, quiet, and stable, Alex sees her spirit and sharp wit. Before long, he realizes he loves her, against all expectations. His appreciation for her soul and their obvious physical chemistry eventually present themselves to Genevieve as the foundation for the kind of true love that obviates her more familial appreciation of her childhood sweetheart.

There is a certain honesty in this book, beneath the historical pageantry and cheeky romance tropes, that’s evident partly from the relative lack of purple prose, partly from the candor between characters, and partly from the author’s own spotlight on what the characters themselves don’t know. The first two points are self-explanatory, but the third really hits home at certain points for me as a reader. Genevieve’s situation, while different from a prior experience of mine in terms of specifics, certainly evoked my empathy, since I know very well what it feels like to mistake the comforts of longevity and friendship for love. Julie Anne Long nails the emotions here, from the heartbreak that’s not really heartbreak but is actually just shock at having your assumptions challenged, to the dedication of well-meaning other people trying to force solutions that you don’t need onto you, for problems that you don’t have.

What I Did For a Duke struck a particular chord with me, but even without that, it was a very well-written romance between two unlikely characters. The level of steam was on point and the writing itself was humorous and, as I said, very guileless and fresh.