One Night of Surrender

by Darcy Burke

  Isabelle was in the corner once more. The freedom she so dearly treasured was at risk. And this time, she found she…didn’t care. What’s more, she didn’t particularly want to be independent if it meant she wasn’t with Val.

  She peered at the dowager in suspicion, thinking she and Viola were perhaps two of the most calculating people she’d ever encountered. “Did you bring me here so that I would feel as though I couldn’t refuse him?”

  The dowager’s eyes sparked with anger. “Do you love my grandson?” She spoke quietly, but the urgency in her tone was unmistakable. “Do not prevaricate with me.”

  Giddiness bubbled in Isabelle’s chest, and she tried very hard not to smile at the dowager, who would surely find it vulgar. “Yes.”

  “Then none of this matters. Tomorrow, he will propose, you will accept, and that is that.” She took a deep breath and resettled her features into a mask of serenity. “Now, enjoy yourself, dear. Have a glass of punch, though it’s disappointingly bland. One would think they would correct that.”

  They stayed another two hours, during which many people came to be introduced to Isabelle. Their curiosity was obvious, as was an underlying current of envy from some of the women, particularly a few mothers whose primary objective was marrying off their daughter or daughters. Or so the dowager had explained. It was a dizzying evening, and not because of the waltz. Isabelle couldn’t hope to remember all the names or anecdotes or silly rules she’d learned. And yet, she would try.

  After all, her future depended on it.

  Chapter 15

  After trying to distract himself at the Wicked Duke, first with ale, then with billiards, then with cards in the private salon, Val abandoned the evening and went home. The town house was quiet now that Barkley and his family were gone, but for the first time, it felt…lonely.

  He’d left the tavern because it now reminded him of Isabelle at every turn. And now, apparently, he couldn’t even relax at home because she haunted him here.

  She will be with you always, you dolt.

  He’d stripped down to his shirtsleeves and picked up the length of muslin, which he’d tucked under his pillow the past two nights like some sort of lovesick lad. Closing his eyes, he inhaled Isabelle’s scent, praying that very soon, she’d be with him in the flesh.

  What if she refused him again? It was one thing to acknowledge that he loved her desperately, that he always had, but what if she didn’t love him in return?

  How will you know until you tell her so, you dolt?

  Val opened his eyes and scowled. “Stop that.”

  “Who are you talking to, Your Grace?” His valet, Ross, had quietly entered the chamber and picked up his discarded coat and waistcoat.

  “No one.”

  Inclining his head, Ross asked if he’d like anything before bed.

  “No, thank you, Ross.”

  A knock on his chamber door drew them both to turn their heads. Ross went and answered the summons, then turned toward Val. “You’ve a visitor.”

  “At this hour?”

  “Apparently so,” Ross said evenly. “A…lady.”

  Val was at the door in a trice, opening it wide to reveal his butler. “Who is it, Sadler?”

  “Mrs. Cortland, Your Grace.”

  Pushing past both retainers, Val started toward the stairs. Had something happened? Ice shot through his veins.

  “She’s in the library,” Sadler called after him.

  Val bounded down the stairs, his stockinged feet skidding across the marble at the base as he vaulted toward the library. The door was open, and as he raced across the threshold, she pivoted from the hearth where she stood warming her hands in front of the fire.

  “It’s rather cold tonight,” she said.

  He rushed forward, scanning her for injury. “Are you all right?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes alight with…something. “Perfect.”

  “You shouldn’t be here. This is highly—”

  “Scandalous, yes. But if my suspicions are correct, it won’t matter.” She shrugged. “Even if they aren’t, it doesn’t matter.” She straightened and looked him in the eye. “I came to tell you that I love you.”

  Joy unfurled in his chest, but it was checked by a sliver of…disappointment? “I wanted to say it first.”

  Her eyes widened briefly, and she covered her mouth to stifle a short laugh. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I love you, Isabelle. I always have, even when I should have let you go.” He winced, then turned his attention from her, gazing into the flames in the grate while he pushed his hand through his hair.

  She touched his sleeve. “What do you mean?”

  He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back, her palm, her wrist. Then he looked at her once more. “I was a terrible husband to my first wife. Viola told you what she was like, but I think she was just trying to gain my attention. All she wanted was for me to love her, and I couldn’t.”

  She cupped the side of his face. “My darling, I am sure you tried. I tried to love my husband too, and he didn’t particularly care. You’ve no way to know how things might have been. We can only accept the way things were and are. Please accept that I love you more than anything.”

  Her words made his soul take flight. “More than your independence?”

  “I feel confident you will allow me a measure of independence most duchesses do not enjoy.”

  “You know me very well. What of your occupation? You love teaching.”

  “Actually, I find I love being a librarian even more. Would it be scandalous if I started a circulating library?”

  “I can’t say that I care.” He began to remove the pins holding her bandeau in place. “Besides, you’ve established a level of scandal by coming here tonight that a circulating library cannot remotely touch.”

  She laughed again, a low, gorgeous sound that filled him with love and hope and joy. And desire.

  He froze. “Does my grandmother know you’re here?”

  “No, but Viola does. She’s covering for me. Your sister is a devious strategist.”

  “Thankfully, in this case, she’s used her power for good.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “To answer your question from earlier, if, in fact, it was a question, my proposal of marriage still stands, though the idea of making you my mistress holds a wicked appeal.”

  She twined her arms around his neck. “Does it? Well then, perhaps I should be your mistress—at least for one night.”

  He laughed softly. “Seems like we’ve done that before.”

  “Not formally.”

  “No, not formally. We’ve never done anything formally.” And he wanted to. She deserved that and so much more. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands on her waist. “Isabelle, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my duchess?”

  “Before I say yes, and I desperately want to say yes, what of my inability to have children?”

  “To that I say, time will tell. If we are not blessed with a child, I will never regret marrying you. Can you say the same?” He held his breath awaiting her answer, and thankfully, she was quick.

  “Yes. To both questions.” She touched his cheek. “How did I get so lucky?” she whispered.

  He saw the tears in her eyes and hoped they were from happiness. “I know you never wanted this, but I promise I will make all your dreams come true.”

  She nodded, smiling broadly, and he knew she was as happy as he was. “You already have. Now stand up and kiss me.”

  He did.

  Epilogue

  “This is hardly fair,” Colehaven complained as champagne was distributed around the drawing room. “You just had to marry before me. Again.”

  Val laughed in response, and Isabelle stared up at him, not quite believing that as of twenty minutes ago, she was the Duchess of Eastleigh.

  “I suppose I will make a toast,” Colehaven announced. “To my dear friend and his lovely wife, who
m he will need to work very hard to deserve.” He looked between Val and Isabelle, his eyes full of love and joy. “I am so glad you’ve found each other at last.” He raised his glass, and everyone did the same.

  Everyone being the dowager, Viola, Colehaven’s delightful fiancée, Diana, whom Isabelle already adored as Viola said she would, Hugh Tarleton, who’d performed the ceremony, and, most importantly to Isabelle, Beatrice and Caroline. Lord and Lady Barkley were also in attendance, but they stood somewhat in the background, because they were either aware of their unpopularity in this company or Val had instructed them to do so. She wouldn’t have put it past him to do that.

  Last night, he’d told her in satisfying detail of how he’d asked Barkley to leave and threatened him in rather direct terms. He’d instructed Miss Shipley to notify him if Barkley even hinted of overstepping and pledged to do the same with any other governess they might hire.

  They’d discussed many things last night—their marriages, their stupidity, and their pledge to never waste another moment. That had been in between rediscovering each other’s bodies. Then they’d risen very early. Val had dropped Isabelle in Berkeley Square on his way to Doctors’ Commons to procure the special license. Following had been a whirlwind of activity to prepare for the wedding this afternoon, which the dowager had grudgingly approved of.

  “It is not what I would have chosen,” she’d said, “but I shall count my blessings that Eastleigh is marrying again, and this time, he chose wisely.”

  Nothing she’d said could have made Isabelle feel any more welcome. Viola was a bit more effusive in her excitement, saying how thrilled she was to finally have a sister and promising more adventures like the one at the Wicked Duke. Isabelle hadn’t wanted to tell her that she had all the adventure she needed with becoming a duchess.

  She was still uncertain how she would fare, but with Val by her side and the support of the dowager, she knew she would manage. Things had turned out far better than she could ever have dreamed. She only wished her father were here to see it.

  Later, when everyone had left and it was just her and Val snuggled on the settee before the fire in the drawing room, Isabelle could no longer hide her exhaustion. In fact, they both yawned at the same time, causing a fit of laughter.

  “We should retire,” Val suggested.

  “Before dinner?” Isabelle lifted her head from his shoulder. “Won’t the staff find that strange?”

  “They’d better get used to it. I foresee many evenings where we retire early.” He waggled his brows at her, and she laughed again.

  “I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open.” She yawned once more, lifting her hand to cover her mouth.

  He readjusted himself and leaned down to nuzzle her neck before trailing his lips along her jaw. “Your eyes don’t need to be open.”

  Threading her fingers through his hair, she brought his head up so she could kiss him. Their lips met with a passion that belied their exhaustion. After several long moments, she pulled back. “I surrender.”

  He exhaled. “I’m afraid you can’t. I already surrendered to you long ago. Before I even knew it myself.”

  “We belong to each other, then.” She looked at him with wicked promise.

  He stood from the settee and swept her into his arms with a smile. “Always.”

  The end

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  Thank You!

  Thank you so much for reading One Night of Surrender. I hope you enjoyed it! Want to find out what happens when a stolen kiss risks a spitfire's one chance at independence? Find out in the Wicked Dukes Club, ONE NIGHT OF PASSION.

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  Books by Darcy Burke

  Historical Romance

  Wicked Dukes Club

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  One Night for Seduction by Erica Ridley

  One Night of Surrender by Darcy Burke

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  One Night of Scandal by Darcy Burke

  One Night to Remember by Erica Ridley

  One Night of Temptation by Darcy Burke

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  The Spitfire Society

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  Never Have I Ever With a Duke

  A Duke is Never Enough

  A Duke Will Never Do

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  The Forbidden Duke

  The Duke of Daring

  The Duke of Deception

  The Duke of Desire

  The Duke of Defiance

  The Duke of Danger

  The Duke of Ice

  The Duke of Ruin

  The Duke of Lies

  The Duke of Seduction

  The Duke of Kisses

  The Duke of Distraction

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  Secrets and Scandals

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  Her Wicked Ways

  His Wicked Heart

  To Seduce a Scoundrel

  To Love a Thief (a novella)

  Never Love a Scoundrel

  Scoundrel Ever After

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  Legendary Rogues

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  Lady of Desire

  Romancing the Earl

  Lord of Fortune

  Captivating the Scoundrel

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  Contemporary Romance

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  Ribbon Ridge

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  Where the Heart Is (a prequel novella)

  Only in My Dreams

  Yours to Hold

  When Love Happens

  The Idea of You

  When We Kiss

  You’re Still the One

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  About the Author

  Darcy Burke is the USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy, emotional historical and contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age 11, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan who loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations. Join her Reader Club at http://www.darcyburke.com/readerclub.

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  A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids who seem to have inherited the writing gene. They’re a crazy cat family with two Bengal cats, a small, fame-seeking cat named after a fruit, and an older rescue Maine Coon who is the m
aster of chill and five a.m. serenading. In her “spare” time Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a 12-step program where one learns to say “no,” but she keeps having to start over. Her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge. Visit Darcy online at http://www.darcyburke.com and follow her social media: Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/darcyburkefans, Twitter @darcyburke at http://www.twitter.com/darcyburke, Instagram at http://www.instagram/darcyburkeauthor, and Pinterest at http://www.pinterest.com/darcyburkewrite.