Page 36 of One Night of Surrender
“She was reckless and indiscreet, always staying out until all hours gambling and generally behaving as a wanton instead of a duchess.She nearly sent poor Grandmama into apoplexy.”
Isabelle had no idea, and why should she have?It was no wonder Val had been unhappy.“What happened to her?”Again, she shouldn’t ask, but was utterly unable to remain silent.
“She was with child and lost the babe.She didn’t survive either.”Viola looked down, her brow creasing.“Grandmama said it was for the best.I say ‘poor Grandmama,’ but it was Val who bore the brunt of Louisa’s behavior.”
Had he loved her?Had she broken his heart?These were more questions Isabelle longed to ask but decided she couldn’t.None of this was her business, and she was ignoring her own warnings about not showing the depth of her relationship with Val to his family.
However he’d felt toward his wife, Isabelle ached for him.Losing a child was worse than not being able to have them.At least that was what she, as someone who apparently couldn’t have one, surmised.
Viola looked at her with a sly, secretive smile.“I think I should take you out tonight.”
“I couldn’t,” Isabelle protested.“I haven’t a thing to wear.”Never mind the fact that she didn’t want to.
“I have clothes you can borrow, and this isn’t a Society event.I want to take you where I go sometimes.It’s devilish fun, and you can be completely anonymous.Are you up for it?”
Anonymous?In London?And it wasn’t Society?
A slow grin lifted Isabelle’s lips.“What time shall we leave?”
“Tarleton!”
Val didn’t look up from his tankard at the chorus that rose upon the entry of his friend Hugh Tarleton.He was too intent on brooding.
Hugh sat down beside him.“Eastleigh, are you drunk?”
“Not yet.”
“He’s been like that all evening,” Jack said.“Maybe you can deliver him an uplifting sermon.”
“If you want to hear a sermon, come to church.”Hugh’s deep, commanding voice rumbled over the table.
Jack chuckled.“Not your church.I’d like to keep the contents of my pockets intact, thank you.”
Hugh was rector at St.Giles in the Fields, in the very center of some of London’s worst neighborhoods.“Your pockets would be fine.No one dares steal at my church.”
Val didn’t doubt it.Hugh was a mammoth of a man with massive shoulders and arms that looked as though they could break you in two.
“Why are you getting drunk?”Hugh asked as one of the barmaids deposited his mug before him.
“Seems like a good idea.”Because then he could forget about Isabelle, at least for a short time.He had to stop torturing himself as he’d done today when he’d taken Barkley’s girls to the library.He’d done it because the poor things had been so forlorn since Isabelle had left, and Val felt sorry for them having such terrible parents.But if he were honest with himself, he’d also done it to see Isabelle.
Not just see her—he’d done it to please her.And judging from her reaction, he’d done that.The problem was, having done that, he wanted to keep doing it.And the problem withthatwas the fact that he had no occasion to do so.She was not his to please.
He finished the ale in front of him and signaled for a refill.
The door opened, but there was no chorus.This happened from time to time as not everyone who came in was a regular patron.They likely soon would be, however, so it was not surprising when someone immediately welcomed the newcomer.Newcomers.
Val glanced up and saw two young gentlemen.They were both rather thin, and they both sported far too much facial hair.Val assumed they’d had the pox, and their beards covered the scars.
“Would you care to sit with us?”Hugh invited.
“No, thank you,” one answered.“We’re for the billiards room.Er, do you have a billiards room?We heard you might.”
Val narrowed his eyes at the shorter of the two who’d spoken.There was something about that voice…
“We do, in fact,” Jack answered.“I’d be happy to show you.”He stood and went to the bar.“Doyle, a pair of ales for these fine gentlemen.”
“Already poured.”Doyle slid them across the bar with a smile.“Welcome to the Wicked Duke, lads.”
