by Darcy Burke
She moved toward him and touched his face, gently stroking her fingertips along his jaw, which was rough with the onset of his beard. “I wouldn’t let it. I will never let it.”
“Does that mean you’re still going to marry me?”
“Of course. Assuming you still want me to.”
He arched a brow. “My song didn’t persuade you? Damn, I really am terrible.”
She laughed. “You’re wonderful. And you are mine. For all time.”
A raindrop, fat and cold, landed on her nose. He leaned forward and licked it off, sending a shiver of delight along her flesh.
“I have to go,” he said, his tone reluctant. “The rain isn’t good for my guitar, and I can’t afford to lose another one today.”
“What happened?”
He winced. “That darkness crept in a little too far.”
She pressed forward, and he held his guitar to the side so she could lean into his chest. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“What a lovely wedding gift.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “It’s the least I can do since you gave me fossils.”
“I’m also making the sitting room next to my office into your personal library and office. You’ll have bookshelves with all manner of geological texts, fossils, and a door that leads directly to my office.”
She grinned up at him. “I can’t decide what I like best.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to.”
“You. You’re the best part of all of it,” she said softly. Then she stood on her toes and kissed him, her lips clinging to his as the rain began to fall in earnest. “Come inside!”
He glanced toward the house. “Your parents won’t want me to.”
“Nonsense, they’ll be thrilled to know the wedding is still happening. My mother was on the verge of a nervous attack.”
“It’s late. I should go.”
She took his hand and shook her head. “Come inside. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“I’m beginning to think you plan to win every argument.”
Laughing, she pulled him toward the house. “I do indeed.”
He smiled, his gray-green eyes sparkling with love and desire. “And I may just let you.”
Epilogue
We walk in the garden, our hands entwined,
Surrounded by beauty, your love is mine.
We are one and the same, dear, you and I,
Naught shall part us, nor shall we say goodbye.
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-The Marquess of Northam to his wife on their wedding day
Devon, August 1818
“Are they back yet?” Beck’s stepmother, Rachel, joined him in the garden.
He set his guitar down and leaned it against the bench where he’d been sitting. Rising, he looked toward the path that led to the beach a mile away. “No.”
Lavinia and George had gone to look for fossils, one of their favorite pastimes on a beautiful summer day like today. That George preferred geology to learning to play guitar was just another example of a battle she’d won.
Beck smiled to himself. His wife was formidable and amazing.
“What are you smiling at?” Rachel asked.
“Just thinking of my wife,” he said. “And George.”
His stepmother peered at him from beneath the wide brim of her bonnet. “You’re quite changed since you wed. Lavinia has done you good.”
“Was I beastly before?” he asked in mock offense.
She laughed softly. “Of course not. You just seem more…settled.”
Yes, that was a good word to describe it. He still suffered from dark moods, but they were far less intrusive. He was working through them and finding his way back to the light. And yes, he credited Lavinia.
She’d guided him through the particularly horrid trial of Haywood, which had included the testimony of one of the other women he’d given pennyroyal—Lady Kipp-Landon. The woman had tearfully admitted that he’d gotten her with child and insisted she take the herb to dispose of it. She hadn’t needed to because she’d ended up miscarrying, but her story had sealed the man’s fate, and he was currently on his way to Australia. If he survived the voyage, he’d likely spend the rest of his life on the other side of the world.
Haywood had begged for mercy, and even Beck had been swayed. He’d seen the man’s wife and children one day and had felt terrible for their loss. Lavinia had been so right when she’d said that killing Haywood would have wrecked him. Just knowing the villain would never see his family again had nearly done the same.
Following the trial, Lady Kipp-Landon had apologized to Beck for tormenting Helen. When Beck had asked her why she and Lady Abercrombie—who had retreated from Society for the remainder of the Season—had singled out Helen and why they’d suggested she kill herself, she’d broken down and said it was because of Haywood. Lady Kipp-Landon had been in love with him, and she’d wanted to push every other woman he paid attention to out of the way.
While Beck had wanted to know the truth, he couldn’t say he was satisfied. The entire situation was just sad. Still, with Lavinia’s help, he found the courage to let the darkness go.
Forgiveness, it seemed, wasn’t something you granted to someone, but a gift you gave yourself. Once Beck had done that, he’d felt free.
“George likes her a great deal,” Martha said, looking toward the path just as Lavinia and her son came into view. “Here they come.” She turned to Beck. “I like her too.”
How could they not? Lavinia was kind, generous, funny, and wickedly smart. In fact, she’d practically taken over George’s studies in science. When he went off to school, he’d know more than most of his mates.
A few moments later, George and Lavinia strolled into the garden. George toted a basket, which contained today’s treasures.
“Hungry for luncheon?” Rachel called.
“Famished!” George answered. He handed the basket to Lavinia, then veered toward the house and broke into a run.
Rachel laughed. “See you both inside.”
Lavinia walked up to Beck and kissed him, her lips lingering on his.
“You taste like salt and wind,” he said, inhaling her scent. “And you smell like perfection.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What does that even smell like?”
Chuckling, he peered into the basket. “I’m going to have to build you a second library.”
“Nonsense, Waverly Court’s library is massive. I could collect fossils every day of my life and never fill it.”
“Yes, but what if you add rocks from the Outer Hebrides?”
She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “Are we going?”
He nodded. “In a fortnight, if that meets with your approval.”
She set the basket on the bench next to his guitar and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh yes!” She kissed the side of his face near his ear and whispered, “Thank you, Beck.”
He encircled his arms around her and cupped her neck so he could kiss her. Time and space ceased to exist as he lost himself in her embrace, and it was some while before she lifted her lips from his. “We should go in to luncheon,” she said.
“Or I could ravish you here.”
“They can see from the house.” Her voice held a smile.
“Have I ever told you that sometimes you’re too sensible?”
“Often.”
“After lunch, may I ravish you? I’ll even let you choose the location.”
“How can I refuse such a polite request? You’re always so polite.”
“Always? What about the time I tore your chemise? Or when I surprised you in the bath?”
“You still managed to make those occasions charming.”
“Hmm, perhaps I shall write an ode to the sensible marchioness and her polite husband.”
“Oh dear, they sound rather dull.”
He looked down at her with a sultry smile. “I shall make them exciting. Care to give me any ideas?”
“Oh y
es. After lunch. In the library, I think.” She lowered her lids in a seductive fashion. “You can help me put my new treasures away.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
She pressed another kiss to his lips then spun away from him, picking up the basket and starting toward the house. She looked over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“Not yet, but I will be after lunch.” He picked up his guitar as she laughed at his double entendre.
When he caught up to her, she twined her arm through his and looked up at him. “I love you so, my mad but oh so polite poet.”
He gazed at her beloved face, so full of emotion, he wondered how there ever could have been a void—but there had been. Until her. “And I love you my sensible, impatient scientist. For as long as the earth lives.”
Her eyes shone with love. “And into eternity.”
* * *
The end
Thank You!
Thank you so much for reading The Duke of Seduction. I hope you enjoyed it! Are you eager to see what happens next with Lavinia’s friends Sarah and Fanny? You’re in luck because Fanny’s book is next! Don’t miss The Duke of Kisses coming in November 2018! Then get excited for Sarah’s story in The Duke of Mischief who is none other than Felix, the Earl of Ware. They’ve known each other for years, she’s his oldest friend’s younger sister. What could go wrong? Watch for it in February 2019! Interested in seeing other secondary characters (maybe Phoebe or Jane or Anthony!) find their own happy ever after? Drop me a line and let me know!
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The Duke of Seduction is the tenth book in The Untouchables series. The Duke of Kisses is coming up next! Catch up with my other historical series: Secrets and Scandals and Legendary Rogues. If you like contemporary romance, I hope you’ll check out my Ribbon Ridge series available from Avon Impulse, and the continuation of Ribbon Ridge in So Hot.
I appreciate my readers so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Books by Darcy Burke
Historical Romance
The Untouchables
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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 Mischief
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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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Ribbon Ridge: So Hot
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So Good
So Right
So Wrong
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 master 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.
