You know how sometimes you need a hook upon which to hang your suspension of disbelief to make a book work?
Yeah, to borrow a phrase from Sarah, I need a suspension bridge of disbelief for this one. The concept is good and interesting, the characters are great, and the heroine and hero make emotional sense together, but she’s a former sex worker and he’s a duke. That’s just…nope.
So Tom is the heir to a duke, and has spent most of his life living it up, gambling, women, the occasional duel, but as his father’s health declined, he decided it was time to grow the fuck up. One of his buddies was like, my man, have I got a club for you for your last night of Living It Up.
The Orchid Club is a sex club where everyone from every level of society is welcome, attendees pay as much as they are able, everyone wears masks, and consent is strictly enforced. It’s run by Lucia, but owned by a mysterious backer.
For a year, Tom visits the club, but doesn’t engage in any entertainments, and he and Lucia flirt and have all sorts of underwear feelings at each other, but then Tom’s father dies, and he becomes the duke. His family has long been a supporter of traditionalism and conservatism and it would be RULL EMBARRASSING if Tom was known to hang around a sex club where the classes mix and consensually bang. He has a sister who is just entering the marriage mart, and Tom’s reputation could affect her social standing. So Tom needs to stop hanging around…. but like all good romance heroes, he wants to act on his underwear feelings for just one night and to get it all out of his system before he becomes a Responsible Adult.
Lucia is willing to act on her underwear feelings, but she’s also got a problem. The mysterious owner has passed away, and she needs to meet up with the new one. His heir.
You know. I know you know.
So now, Tom, with all of his lineage of staid conservativeness, owns a SEX CLUB.
Also awkward!
There are more complications to his life, but it all boils down to he feels he has a duty to what his father stood for and all of those political alliances, but they aren’t in line with his personal beliefs.
Lucia is the illegitimate daughter of an Italian woman and a random English gentleman who wasn’t that much of a gentleman, and when her mother died, she ended up as a prostitute in London. Eventually, she became the manager of the Orchid Club, and managed her employees with deftness and skill and compassion. But the fact is, she still was a sex worker.
I can accept a certain level of historical inaccuracy (yes, even me!) if it’s well-written. But the amount of belief I have to suspend to make this feel plausible, given what we know about British high society, is…it’s too high. Yes, Lucia and Tom may have a happy relationship, but the amount of ostracism she will face is going to be insurmountably high. Even though, in theory, no one knows for sure that she was a sex worker, and is now a duchess, these things always get out. And the book doesn’t address that part, except through a ruse that society seems to accept, but I couldn’t believe at all.
When Sarah asked how the set up worked for me, I found myself making ambiguous, uncertain high pitched noises, much like Amy does in this clip from Pitch Perfect:
I wanted it to work. And there are a lot of things in this book that DID work: I liked watching Tom struggle with how he believed he could help people with his work in Parliament, and how that jived with his father’s legacy. He had to struggle with the fact that his father was publicly conservative, but also owned a sex club, something in complete opposition to his work otherwise. That’s a lot to deal with.
I liked Tom’s struggle with what he felt was the morally right thing to do and how, thanks to unscrupulous people, that could and would affect the people he loved the most. That struggle was very well drawn. I liked Lucia making sure he understood the real world effects his votes had on real people. She showed him what it was like to work for a living. He was open to learning.
But still, much like the idea of society not questioning Lucia’s background, the hypocrisy of conservative politicians pontificating about morality while also profiting from sex work themselves is not addressed sufficiently.
I like the idea of exploring a former sex worker as a heroine who gets a happy ever after. I feel like that is an idea worth exploring. But in this particular rung of society, I couldn’t ultimately make it work like the story wanted me to.
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This is my treat for getting through the work day, and I am looking forward to it immensely.
Regarding the suspension of disbelief, based off your review, I feel like the groundwork for it is laid in the earlier books of this series, especially in the conclusion to “From Duke Till Dawn.” I’m not going to spoil what happens there for those who haven’t read it, but essentially you can see how things get from that book to what I presume happens in this one.
For a more realistic period sex worker happy ending book, I recommend Tyburn by Jessica Cale. It’s still a melodrama requiring some suspension of disbelief, but the book is so well researched. It ends happily but it’s definitely a grittier read since it touches on reality like hangings and syphilis.
I can’t speak to this book which I haven’t read, but I can think of several other romances which seemed to me hamstrung by the expectation that HEA = marriage, always. Where are the unconventional HEAs in historical romances, when they existed in real life? Just recently read a book in which a secondary character lived happily for decades with a man other than her husband. Main characters, where are you?
@vasha – I’ve seen a lot of authors talking about moving the genre into a more realistic direction that way – there’s always gonna be that dichotomy between
I’ve read this one and liked it a bit more it’s a lot of fun.
* A dichotomy between originality and the pursuit of tropes. Sorry, cut myself off!
honestly I don’t even disagree with your analysis about the intense social strictures and how you wish that would be addressed but your review seems so off to me on a site where there’s room for suspension of disbelief for wallflower heroines interested in theoretical astrophysics or a virgin widow or some shit. like the historical romance genre is all about insane suspension of disbelief (for instance, in real life these aristocratic men would be tories and therefore unfuckable) and I’ve been thinking a lot about what kinds of things we allow ourselves to suspend disbelief for and how that plays into our inherent biases. i think it would be worth considering why the place you draw the line is sex workers… not the weird ahistorical sounding sex club but… just the singular fact that she’s a sex worker
anyway my kingdom for a romance novel where the hero falls for his mistress and is like “let’s marry” and she says “lol no please, that sounds like a massive pain.”
Unconventional happy endings for main couples are at the top of my Romance Wish List, not even exaggerating.
My uncle and aunt were together twenty years (until her premature death) and never married, and everything about their relationship was unusual and unconventional (she was six years older; they first met when she was already in her forties; they were both serious about their careers so sometimes they were unable to see each other for a long time; &c.), but they loved each other SO MUCH, and the fact that they were able to figure out a way to stay together when the logistics of their relationship were so complicated is a real testament to their love.
The best unconventional romances are like that, I think: they would not work for everyone, but they work for the people involved because the people in them are writing their own rules. To me, THAT is romantic, more romantic than following all the tropes and doing the conventional thing because that’s how we define “romance.” I want to read those stories. And I also want to read the stories of people who were, for whatever reason, just plain unlucky enough to fall in love with someone that they were unable to marry, but still dared to be together with that person anyway.
wait okay because i’m like mad on christmas (a seasonal affliction) i came back to this because i remembered that this site also reviewed the other Eva Leigh novels and there are glowing reviews for:
1) non aristocratic female newspaper owner who writes articles about an earl’s exploits
2) virginal aristocratic lady who WRITES EROTIC NOVELS (tbf this was reviewed by elyse)
3) daughter of a baron who runs a smuggling operation
idk im actually not the biggest fan of leigh since i find her premises very compelling but the plots… not as convincing, so i’m not even here to like fight about whether she is capable of bridging the suspension of disbelief (because she’s not for me) or whether this is a good book or not (it sounds kinda bad lol) but the focus of this review is the sole fact that the heroine was a sex worker and how that made your hackles rise because it somehow felt less historical i guess than any of the above.
anyway, merry crimble
The previous two books also had problems. Book 2 had a scene (to set up this book) that stretched belief to its breaking point. (It is also has a lot of scenes, but it never comes together and the resolution doesn’t work for me at all) Book 1, I just didn’t believe in the HEA.
Also, both of those books kept referencing her earlier series – and I kept wishing I was reading them rather than these.
There are plenty of far more “unrealistic” plots in historical romance. Urchins raised to the aristocracy! Long-lost twins! Amnesia! Women running gaming hells! Ghosts! Not to mention a billion handsome, super rich dukes with hearts of gold.
What you’re saying here is that you find a sex worker heroine unworthy of the kind of happy ending Romance is made of. Why is this plot any less believable than a hundred others? Courtesan and mistress romances have been around for ages–why is this one in particular less believable? I highly recommend taking a look at your biases to figure out why you don’t believe in this happy ending when you’re willing to believe so many others.
But isn’t this site all about exploring what works for you as a reader on a personal level? I read the review as Redheadedgirl saying that the author didn’t convince her that THIS heroine and THIS hero could overcome THIS issue. I would think that had the author pulled it off in the mind of Redheadedgirl, she would have said historically implausible BUT she made it workand I loved how she did it. Instead, she is saying that this is historically implausiable AND the author’s work in this particular case did not convince her otherwise.
For example, I absolutely hated Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover by Sarah MacLean (which I know many others squee over). The plot was historically ridiculous and I wanted to like it, but for so many reasons I did not buy it at all because I thought the author left too many plot holes gaping open. This despite the fact that I have loved other MacLean novels which are also historically inaccurate.
I guess I just read the review as a critique of the writing and this particulate story rather than the trope in general.
Based on real life history, this set up is absolutely plausible.
English courtesans who married dukes include Lavinia Fenton (Duke of Bolton in 1728) Harriet Mellon (Duke of St. Albans in 1827) also Elizabeth Armistead married Charles James Fox, grandson of the Duke of Richmond and leader of the Whig party in 1795. Honorable mention to Georgian era Dorothea Jordan who had a 20 year affair and 10 kids with the royal Duke of Clarence.
No suspension of disbelief required – it happened.
I didn’t read this review as RedHeadedGirl saying that in English history this NEVER happened, but that it was highly unlikely. That is why I used the word implausiable in my previous comment rather than impossible. She is correct that the social stigma would have been extremely high against such a relationship. And she didn’t feel like the author was able to overcome those hurdles in this book.
I’m gathering that this book–unlike many that have sex worker or former sex worker MCs–actually treats it’s former sex worker MC respectfully and lets her be a full complex character. But that the reviewer has decided that it’s impossible for a duke/former courtesan pairing to be believable. Not through fault of the writing (as in this author didn’t convince) but simply because he is a duke and she used to be a courtesan. And for this reviewer, that’s an automatic nope, not believable (despite historical facts to the contrary).
Sounds like pretty clear anti-sex work bigotry to me, coded as not being able to “suspend disbelief” about who can get happy endings in historical romance with one of a gazillion dukes (despite that number being actually rather small).
I found the premise described delightful and now am going to buy and read this book.
@Anonymous – I read the review again and see what you are saying. We will have to agree to disagree. I see where you are coming from based on the first part of the review. However, RedHeadedGirl also said this which to me is very much a critique of the writing rather than the trope.
Even though, in theory, no one knows for sure that she was a sex worker, and is now a duchess, these things always get out. And the book doesn’t address that part, except through a ruse that society seems to accept, but I couldn’t believe at all.
Just would like to point put that sex workers are real. Some are women who read romance. They are human beings who deserve good things, like every other human woman. This review smacks of bigotry, and actual sex workers have been hurt by it and the insinuation that they don’t deserve representation in this amazing genre of HEA. I’m disappointed in SBTB.
Ha! You obviously know nothing about how British upper class society works. Marrying a ‘former’ sex worker would barely cause I ripple. There would be whispered words behind close doors but to her face everyone would be polite. It is not called polite society for nothing. Dukes and Lords and even Kings have been marrying women of dubious origin for centuries.
Mollyx
I think everyone has and has the right to their reactions. I am tossed out a book when medicine is wrong. On the other hand, cheating as part of the story doesn’t throw me. Book love is like real love–connection is personal.
I think there is a difference between saying the author didn’t convince the reader that story/plot was plausible versus saying a relationship like that COULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED,THEREFORE this story is implausible.I mean, how many sheikh and billionaire books are out there that readers squee over. I am less likely to buy/ read those than I am about about duke marrying a courtesan or his mistres, b/c as others have pointed out it DID happen.
My reaction was based on the idea that the writing didn’t properly address the external conflict of having a sex worker and a Duke in a relationship, and that the story didn’t sufficiently explain how that would work.
However, I didn’t mean to imply nor did I say that sex workers are underserving of an HEA, or that relationships like that haven’t existed in the past. I shouldn’t have mentioned historical accuracy – that was poorly done on my part, and I was wrong about that.
If you were hurt or offended, I apologize, truly. That was not my intent at all.
I get what you mean. There’s improbable and then there’s impossible. A sex worker with no background marrying a man from that echelon of society couldn’t get away with doing it without being condemned.
Couldn’t.
As long as the author is willing to follow through, and let them be happy in their ostracism, then it could be a good story. But she would never be allowed through the doors of Almack’s, or be presented at court. And that would limit what she could do to help her husband.
Those few courtesans who married into high society? None of the wives were acceptable to polite society, and all the men involved were decidedly rackety. None had children who inherited a title, which is also an important consideration, because they too would bear the sin of their mother. That’s a horrible thing, but it was what happened. So do that, and show how love can transcend the strictures that society placed on a couple. Don’t turn what could be an interesting story into a fairy tale.
I did a courtesan heroine in A Chance To Dream, where the heroine was the daughter of a courtesan with a chequered past. I had to jump through several hoops to give her the future I wanted her to have, but I did it. I don’t think I’d do it again.