Meet the unforgettable men of London’s most notorious tavern, The Wicked Duke, in ONE NIGHT OF TEMPTATION by Darcy Burke. Seductively handsome, with charm and wit to spare, one night with these rakes and rogues will never be enough…
Faced with a marriage she can’t abide, Lady Penelope Wakefield takes drastic measures to preserve her freedom. Her brilliant plan is foolproof until a sexy but imperious rector “rescues” her.
Rector Hugh Tarleton has no patience for the Society philanthropists who seek to bestow their pity—and not much else—on his oppressed flock in one of London’s worst neighborhoods. When the daughter of a marquess is kidnapped and brought to the rookery, he vows to protect her, but the temptation to surrender to their mutual desire will certainly ruin them both.
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She shot a glance in his direction. “Who is the right person? For you.”
He ignored the desire pooling in his belly. The possibility he’d imagined a moment ago took root. He was incredibly drawn to her, and with each passing moment, the connection between them grew stronger. Did she feel that too? “I would like a wife who, above all, wants to help others, particularly those who are unable to help themselves. She should be intelligent, warmhearted, and, if it’s not too much to ask, in possession of a fine wit.”
“Why would that be too much to ask?”
He shrugged. “I am often told I should laugh more. A wife with a sense of humor would undoubtedly help with that.”
“Who tells you that?” she asked.
“Tom—my curate. My housekeeper. My sisters.”
“Not your brothers?”
“They wouldn’t dare. They laugh less than I do.” He smirked, especially as he tried to think of Gabriel, his eldest brother, so much as chuckling.
“I’m trying to think back, and I don’t recall you laughing today. Maybe a chuckle, but nothing more.”
“I did laugh.” He cocked his head to the side. “You, however, genuinely laughed when we discussed Maisie and Joseph.” The memory of that warm sound teased a smile to his lips.
Her eyes glowed with something that might have been merriment. “It was your sarcasm.”
“Sarcasm was the primary form of humor in my house growing up.”
“Mine didn’t have any humor, sarcastic or otherwise.” She looked toward the window, then shot him a quick look. “That wasn’t sarcasm, by the way, but I can see where you might think it was.”
No, he didn’t think that. She’d drawn a troublesome picture of her family.
He moved the conversation back to where they’d been. “I told you about the wife I’m looking for. What are your requirements for a husband?”
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