This RITA® Reader Challenge 2015 review was written by PamG. This story was nominated for the RITA® in the Long Historical category.

Here is PamG.'s review:

I know that Fool Me Twice is an A read for me, but there isn’t any one overwhelming reason. I read it for the second time for this review, remembering that I’d enjoyed it the first time, but not recalling a whole lot of detail. I expect that I’ll read it again someday, and that is definitely a factor in my A grade. Duran doesn’t seem to cover any startling new ground in this historical, yet the overall quality is exceptional. It almost seems that the individual elements that make this book work just fit together so beautifully and match my particular tastes as well.

First of all, Duran is a wonderful writer. Her work just soars above the mere grammar and mechanics of decent writing. Her prose flows smoothly and naturally with eddies rippling around the occasional almost poetic passage. She conveys feelings without florid language and excess drama; she gives a sense of time and place without overly lavish description. Best of all, there is understated but delightful humor in her descriptions of human interaction. And this book is all about human interaction. Though the third person point of view alternates between the hero and heroine, the greater focus seems to be on Olivia, because she is encountering new people and new environments, while Marwick’s new experience is all about discovering Olivia herself. Duran introduces her hero with short disjointed passages in present tense which aptly demonstrate how extremely fucked up Marwick is. I’m not a huge fan of present tense, but it really works here as an indicator of emotional dissonance. I enjoy this sort of stylistic trick when it’s done well and not forced, but I think the author was taking a bit of a risk here.

The greatest strength of Fool Me Twice is undoubtedly the character development. While details of setting and time period seem consistent, authentic, and necessary, descriptions are sufficient to tell the story, not to push the distractions of costume porn and explicit decor. The focus is on character and the dynamics of the relationship. I don’t think Duran could write a flat character if she tried. Even though some of her characters only occupy a few pages and some of their story lines end rather abruptly, each is a fully realized if not fully revealed individual.

Naturally the novel’s major focus is on the central couple. The personalities of Olivia and Marwick dominate the story and drive every tiny turn of the plot. Between an aristocrat confined by his own demons to a single room and his fake housekeeper, neither of their points of view is entirely reliable and neither protagonist is a particularly saintly person. In fact, I prefer imperfect, even deliberately “bad” heroes and heroines as long as their badness doesn’t consist of whiney self-flagellation, meant to reveal how maligned, misunderstood, or unconventionally gorgeous they are. Be ye criminal, rake, liar, politician, or feisty redhead, own your naughty self, and I am with you all the way.

Though Olivia is honest with herself about her background and about the underhanded purpose behind her invasion of Marwick’s citadel, her actions reveal motives that grow progressively more complex as her masquerade continues. Get in, get the papers, and get out is just not happening. From the first object lobbed at her head through multiple firings and escalating if unconvincing threats of violence, Olivia perseveres in her housekeeper role due to her practical need to dislodge Marwick from his lair. Yet each of her actions is laced with greater care for the duke’s wellbeing.  As her snooping reveals the man beneath the madness, her interest and her respect grow, as do her inner misgivings about the ultimate effect of her betrayal. Oddly no one from the duke to the lowliest housemaid is convinced of her housekeeper persona, yet all seem quite sure that she is more than she appears. Even her own thoughts give her away as she justifies her repeated interference in the household’s routines.

The task of a well-trained staff, particularly in a grand home such as this, was not merely to obey the master, but also to exert a civilizing influence. In some households, the staff even took pride in that role. And why not? Left unchecked, the excesses of the aristocracy would have outraged England into a revolution by now.

So Olivia vacillates between conniving thief and woman with a mission of reform. And well she might, because plainly Marwick and his household are one hot mess.

Alastair, Duke of Marwick has been emotionally shredded by his now blessedly dead duchess. Propelled from grieving widower to raging, incoherent madman by the discovery of his wife’s multi-layered betrayals, Marwick has sequestered himself in a dark bedroom with his tormented memories and the ghost of his dead pride. We can name his state depression or agoraphobia, but Duran avoids the pitfalls of clinical language and anachronistic analysis, making the duke’s condition intensely personal and somehow aggravating to his household and reader alike.

As Marwick becomes more rational, the reader recognizes what a self-involved asshole the duke can be. Ironically, Marwick’s thwarted pride and legitimate pain combine to make him simultaneously both infuriating and sympathetic. It is dishonest to pretend that mental imbalance evokes only kindness and understanding in those who deal with its victims, so kudos to Duran for striking this delicate balance. Besides, butt-headedness makes a character seem more real than pathos does.

The interactions between Marwick and Olivia begin with hostile confrontations and evolve into convoluted negotiations often prefaced by Marwick asking “Didn’t I sack you?” Their relationship is complicated and subtly hilarious. Olivia’s campaign to roust Marwick from his rooms consists of serial invasions of his space, each more entertaining than the last. Whether she is rescuing his books, critiquing his grooming, or admiring a nipple, Olivia is a hoot. Marwick’s response is ragey and incredulous as he resists the change that Olivia impels.

Yet inevitably change happens. I love this trope (hate, hate, hair. . .  or nipple as the case may be) and love the way Duran employs it here. The give and take between Olivia and Marwick is pivotal to the plot and enables a slow reveal of their hidden back stories, but there is far more going on than lively banter or extended internal monologues. There is a point in the story when the action shifts from personal to public in a way that almost draws a line through the middle of the narrative. (Here is the point where Marwick evolves into Alastair for me.) This dichotomy isn’t necessarily a flaw but it is very strongly defined. Edgy banter gives way to darker themes, and the emphasis shifts from Marwick’s emotional health to his moral choices just as Olivia’s situation moves from a theoretical threat to the concrete.  The danger to Olivia is real as is Marwick’s fear of disgrace, and there are a number of twists before the story winds to a close. However, emotional and intellectual sparring take center stage through most of the novel, and the usual quick shedding of clothes and inhibitions is replaced by welcome restraint. The only strip tease is the soul-baring sort that builds the very best kind of tension.

In spite of her cleverness and down-to-earth practicality, Olivia is an innocent, and the author conveys the normalcy of this state by making it something Olivia herself is indifferent to. After all, she is fighting for her life. Virginity is just the default position so to speak, and the reader only becomes aware of it when Alastair does. When the duke recognizes her innocence, it pleases him but doesn’t really affect her value to him. Virginity is more an incidental attribute than virtue incarnate. Ultimately, it is Olivia’s utter isolation and her ability to maintain her self-respect and independence in the face of real danger that most moves and impresses Alastair. Although their attraction is undeniable, it is never separated from their other emotions.

He grabbed her wrists and bowed his head to kiss each one, like a vassal paying tribute. She watched him do so and felt, for a dizzying moment, taller than him, a presence larger and grander than her flesh could contain. By his own account, he had seen her, recognized her, as brave, intelligent, resourceful. And he wanted her, against his will. Yes, let him bow his head; let him admit to being conquered.

When Olivia and Alastair (finally) become intimate, the act is deeply passionate and convincingly unique to these two individuals. In a relationship characterized by intermittent bullying and an often brutal frankness, they are honest when it counts the most. I think a love scene that is personal and unique must be the most difficult thing for a writer to convey. The mechanics of sex are so fundamentally limited and yet so afflicted by multiple vocabularies that it’s difficult to even refer to it in a review without invoking the unintended “hur-hur-hur.” Hence the plethora of “difficults” in this paragraph. Simply put, Duran writes a gorgeous love scene that is beautifully integrated into the story. Then she follows up with a morning after like this:

She felt a glimmer of mischief.

“You’re not feeling shy, are you?” To her amazement–and, yes, her delight–the color rose in his face.

“Shy, by God–”

“You’re avoiding my eyes,” she said. “You could not have hustled me out of that flat more quickly this morning. And now you’re refusing to have a conversation. Are you afraid that you disappointed me? For I assure you, it wouldn’t have been possible. I wasn’t expecting much-”

He made a choking sound.

“Oh dear.” She reached for her discarded cup of tea, brought an hour ago by the obsequious conductor. “Would you like some of this? And don’t misunderstand me; it was quite nice. Last night, I mean.”

That right there is why I love Olivia and Alastair and this book. I’ve read a couple of novels that are precursors to this one, and there is a little dissonance between Marwick’s character in the previous novel and in this one, but Olivia runs completely true to form. Each novel more than stands alone, but Fool Me Twice is my absolute favorite of the three and the one that I know I’ll read again and again.  I would recommend it to readers of historical romance who enjoy a complicated relationship with lots of edgy give and take, who aren’t nit-picky about having a ton of historical detail yet expect a sense of authenticity, and who deeply appreciate excellent writing.