One Summer of Surrender Read online

  One Summer of Surrender

  (Seasons Book 3)

  By

  USA Today Bestseller

  Jess Michaels

  One Summer Of Surrender

  Seasons Book 3

  Copyright © Jesse Petersen, 2016

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  www.AuthorJessMichaels.com

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  Dedication

  For all of you who wanted Stenfax's story. I hope you fall even more in love with him (and Elise).

  And for Michael, as we embark on our newest adventure.

  Prologue

  Summer 1808

  Lucien Danford, eleventh Earl of Stenfax, pounded his fist against the door of the London home of one of his best friends. The world was spinning as he awaited a response and he leaned against the barrier as he tried not to cast up his accounts. When the door opened, he staggered through and nearly deposited himself on the foyer floor.

  “Where’s Folly?” he barked, flinching at the horrified expression of his friend’s butler. “And where’s my brother? I know they’re both here.”

  The older man swallowed as he caught Stenfax’s elbow and kept him from hitting the marble floor. “Mr. Danford and Lord Folworth are in the billiard room, my lord.”

  Stenfax shrugged off his supportive arm and began to stagger away. “I’ll find my own way. Thank you, Ritman.”

  “Richards, sir,” the butler sighed, though he didn’t follow.

  As Stenfax swayed his way down the hall, the door to the billiard room opened and both his brother, Grayson Danford, and their best friend, the Marquess of Folworth, stepped out. They stared at him, eyes wide with surprise at his state. He knew what they saw. Ruin. Loss. Pain.

  “Jesus, Lucien,” Gray said, lunging for him as he lost his footing.

  He fell squarely into Gray’s arms and leaned there for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried not to cry. Or vomit. Or both.

  “He’s bloody drunk,” Folly said, grabbing Stenfax’s arm. Together the men led him into the billiard room. “Get him inside, I’ll call for coffee.”

  They placed him on a settee and then Folly rushed out. Stenfax stared up into his brother’s face, which was lined with concern.

  “She wrote me a letter,” he said, an answer to the question Gray had not yet asked.

  “Who?” Gray asked softly.

  “Elise. Elise wrote me a letter ending our engagement,” he said, and the pain of those words hit him with full power. He could hardly catch his breath as he watched his brother’s face twist in horror.

  “No,” Gray murmured. “No! That cannot be possible.”

  “But it is,” Stenfax said, his voice shaking. “She did it.”

  “Did you quarrel?” Gray asked, still confused.

  “No. On the contrary…” Stenfax swallowed as he thought of a night less than a week ago. Then it had been pure pleasure between them. Now it was pure, unadulterated agony. “We were closer than ever.”

  “Then why?” Gray pressed. “I don’t understand. You’re to marry in less than a month.”

  “Not anymore. She’s marrying Kirkford. Her letter said she preferred a rich duke to a penniless earl.”

  Now the horror faded from Gray’s face and it hardened with anger. “She said that?”

  Stenfax nodded slowly. “In black and white, written in her own hand. So I went to her house and they wouldn’t let me in. They said she wasn’t home. She wouldn’t even fucking see me.”

  Gray bent his head. “Oh God, Lucien. No wonder you’re drunk.”

  Stenfax reached into his jacket pocket and drew out the letter. He handed it over, not caring that Gray would see the water streaks where angry tears, tears of disbelief, had fallen as he read over and over again the words of the woman he loved.

  Gray took the letter and stood up. “Look, let me explain to Folly. Lay here a moment, will you? Just take a few deep breaths, I’ll be back and we’ll…we’ll get through this together.”

  Stenfax said nothing as his brother pushed to his feet and left the room. Gray’s words hung in the air.

  Get through this.

  There was no getting through this. Stenfax had loved Elise for five years. Hell, probably longer than that. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been in his life, his younger sister’s best friend, trailing after him and his friends and his brother, tormenting him and tantalizing him.

  He loved her. And she had told him she loved him. She’d shown him she loved him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to think once again of a night not so long ago when he’d been allowed the liberties only a husband should have.

  But he hadn’t felt wrong about it. After all, he would be a husband in a few short weeks. But now that night was poisoned. Because everything Elise had ever said or done or claimed to feel turned out to be a lie.

  He got to his feet and paced the room, his stomach roiling. He didn’t want to be sick on Folly’s very nice rug, so he exited the room through the terrace doors. The warm summer air hit him in the face and he shut his eyes as he moved to the edge of the parapet.

  The terrace was high above the stone walkway to the garden below. So far down that if a man fell, he would likely die. Stenfax stared at the dizzying distance as the pain in his heart swelled and grew and took over every part of him. Drink hadn’t helped. It only made it worse. In that moment, he knew nothing could make it better.

  He placed both hands on the stone edge of the terrace and pushed up, pulling himself onto his hands and knees on the ledge. He rose to his full height as he widened his legs to stay steady.

  He could jump. He could jump from here and there would be no more pain. No more empty future. No more anything at all.

  “Stenfax!”

  Lucien looked over his shoulder to see Gray, Folly and Folly’s new wife, Marina, standing at the terrace door. All three had horrified looks on their faces, but none more than Gray. Lucien’s younger brother had his hands lifted, pleading as he edged toward him.

  “What are you doing, Lucien?” Gray asked.

  Lucien shrugged as he looked once more at the ground so far below. “I don’t know yet,” he muttered, hearing the slur in his voice. He was so damned drunk. Would he do this sober?

  “Please don’t do this,” Gray said, his voice catching. “Come down.”

  Stenfax hesitated. “She left me in a letter. We’ve known each other since I was thirteen and she left me in a letter.”

  Gray stepped even closer. “I know. I cannot begin to imagine what she’s thinking. It was an unforgivably cruel act by a woman who is clearly not what we thought all these years. But she does not deserve the satisfaction of you doing this, Lucien. Nor does our family deserve the devastation that would be caused if you jumped from that ledge.”

  Stenfax looked over his shoulder at his brother. Gray was shaking all over and his face was so pale it looked like there was no blood left in it.

  “How can I go on without her?”

  “Please come down,” Gray whispered. “We’ll talk about it.”

  Stenfax shifted again, sliding the toe of his boot along the edg
e of the rock wall. And for the next hour they went on like that, Gray pleading, Folly pleading, Marina pleading and Stenfax uncertain, unsure.

  But as the time passed, so did the alcohol fade from his system. The pain increased as the liquor dissipated and yet he still didn’t jump.

  “Perhaps I’m not man enough to do it,” he said at last.

  “You’re man enough not to,” Gray insisted. “Because you know what it would do to our mother, to our sister. To me. Look at me, Lucien.”

  Lucien did so, mostly because his brother’s voice got so sharp and so shrill at his order. Gray’s eyes were welled with tears and he lifted a shaking hand.

  “Please don’t do this to me,” Gray whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

  Stenfax bent his head. The idea of living without Elise cut him to the core of his being. But Gray’s plea hit home. Slowly he reached out his hand and let Gray help him down from the ledge. As soon as he was down, Gray cocked his hand back and punched Lucien square in the face. The physical pain of the punch ripped through him, and for a blissful moment it replaced the other pain.

  Folly and Marina both gasped and leapt toward them, but Stenfax grabbed his brother and hugged him. Gray sobbed into his shoulder, holding on to him so tightly that Stenfax knew he would have bruises on his arms tomorrow, as well as a black eye.

  But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore.

  “Come inside,” Folly said, motioning to the billiard room. “Come inside and we can talk about this rationally.”

  Gray released him at last and allowed him to shake Folly’s hand and accept a quick hug from Marina.

  “I’ll go inside. I’ll do whatever you’d like me to do, after what I just put you through. But let me make one thing clear: I will never discuss that woman again,” he said, lifting his chin and hardening his tone and his heart.

  Marina’s lips parted. “Dearest, do you think that’s best? This is devastating to you and we’re here to help you.”

  He shook his head. “If you want to help me, then do as I just said. We will never talk of this night or that woman ever again. And in return I swear I will never do something so rash again.”

  He didn’t wait for the response, but walked back into the billiard room. They followed, their concern as obvious as their heavy stares on his back.

  But Lucien didn’t care. He had nearly died for surrendering to his emotions. And he knew now that the only way to never let that happen again would be to never let his emotions rule. Not when it came to Elise.

  Not when it came to anything.

  Chapter One

  Summer 1811

  “I’m going home,” Stenfax said, not looking at his sister Felicity, nor at Gray and his wife Rosalinde, but continuing to stare into the spinning, laughing, all-too-loud crowd.

  Felicity turned to him, her bright eyes filled with worry. God, everyone always looked at him with worry these days. It was exhausting. “Oh, please don’t go, Lucien,” she said, grabbing his hand with both of hers. “We haven’t danced an allemande yet.”

  Lucien arched a brow. “You despise the allemande, Felicity. Do try to make your little lies to keep me here more believable.”

  Felicity rolled her eyes and then stuck just the tip of her tongue out at him. “It was the first thing that came to mind, damn it. But I truly don’t want you to go. It’s been so long since we all went to a party together and really spent time with each other.”

  “Yes,” Gray said, tilting his head to catch Stenfax’s eye. “Stay. I would say the thing about the allemande, but Felicity already got caught in that lie, so give me a moment and I’ll come up with an excuse.”

  “No excuses,” Rosalinde said gently. “We only wish to enjoy your company, as Felicity says.”

  Stenfax sighed. “You are almost impossible to refuse when you band together to work against me.” He shook his head. “Almost. Look, I’m not enjoying myself, this party is far too crowded and that orchestra is quite possibly the worst one I’ve ever heard. My head is throbbing and in a moment I may start bellowing about politics and ruin the entire night. It’s best for me to just go now before the evening deteriorates into fisticuffs with some seventy-year-old who never wants change to happen in his lifetime or anyone else’s.”

  Gray sighed and exchanged a glance with the women before he clapped a hand on Stenfax’s shoulder. “Very well, it seems there is no dissuading you. At least allow me to walk you out.”

  Stenfax nodded before he bussed Felicity’s cheek, then Rosalinde’s, and said his goodnights. The two men then walked through the ballroom and out into the much quieter foyer. Stenfax caught a footman’s eye and lifted his hand to send the boy scurrying for his horse. It would likely take a few moments to arrange it with his leaving so early.

  “What is it?” Gray asked when they were alone in the small space.

  Stenfax let his eyes fall closed. This was a topic he did not broach. Not with anyone. “Nothing,” he said softly.

  Gray turned to face him head on. “You are shutting down, Lucien. Locking us out. It’s like…” Stenfax looked at his brother in time to see Gray’s face twisted momentarily. “It’s like before.”

  Stenfax flinched at his younger brother’s raw expression. The pain of it forced him to think of that night three long years ago when he’d nearly ended his life. There had been ripples of that horrible experience through every moment of his existence since then. Changes that could not be denied. Hearing the faint whisper of fear in his overly protective brother’s voice was one of them.

  He placed a hand on Gray’s forearm and gently squeezed. “It’s not, I assure you.”

  There was a moment when Gray’s relief was plain, but then it was gone. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t mean to be crass, but how long has it been?”

  “Been?” Stenfax repeated, though he was utterly aware to what his brother referred.

  Gray folded his arms. “You know. Since you had a woman.”

  Stenfax looked out the open door into the darkness. He shook his head. “I don’t know. A long time.”

  That was a lie, of course. He knew exactly how long it had been since he’d last been with a woman. Over a year. And even then, the sex had been a rote act meant to release some tension. It never really worked.

  “Go find some pleasure,” Gray suggested, dragging Lucien back to the present. “Wake yourself up. Burn off some energy.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucien said with a sigh.

  “Let me know for you,” Gray insisted. “Please. I don’t want to see you shrivel into yourself ever again.”

  Stenfax heard Gray’s true worry and he clenched his fists at his sides. “Very well,” he said, more to appease his brother than for his own pleasure. “I’ll go to Vivien Manning’s.”

  Gray’s eyebrows lifted. “The Mistress Matchmaker? Actually, that’s a wonderful idea. Get a mistress, someone to see more permanently.”

  Stenfax shook his head. “No, I’m not in the market. I-I don’t think I’m in the market. It’s just that I’ve always gotten on with Vivien and she can help with someone discreet. Maybe I’ll want her for a few days or even a few weeks. Perhaps you’re right that it will help.”

  “Good.” Gray said the words, but as Stenfax looked at him he could still see his brother’s deep concern.

  He frowned. “It’s not about her,” he said, addressing at last the subject that always hung unspoken between them.

  Gray bit back a humorless laugh. “It’s always about her.”

  Stenfax’s shoulders rolled forward in defeat and he sighed. “Yes, I know.”

  “Here you are, sir!” the footman called out as he came up to the door outside with Stenfax’s mount.

  “Goodnight,” Gray said, mercifully releasing Stenfax from the requirement of addressing the subject further.

  “Goodnight,” Stenfax returned, tipping his head to his brother before he walked out and swung up on his mount. He ro
de the animal out into the street and turned him toward Vivien Manning’s, where there was always a party in full swing.

  But even as he vowed to do exactly as his brother suggested, he knew it wouldn’t help. It never did.

  The Duchess of Kirkford sat in a quiet side room in the home of the notorious Vivien Manning, her hands folded in her lap and her mind reeling. She had come here by appointment and had been led through what could only be described as an erotic bacchanalia. She had seen things she’d never even imagined before, from women performing wild dances in very little clothing to couples having sex right in the main room to the intense scrutiny of the audience.

  She shifted in her chair at the thought of it, and the tingling awareness those thoughts created. She was in over her head, it seemed.

  The door to the room opened and a woman swept through. As Elise got to her feet, she gasped. Vivien Manning was younger than she’d imagined during their brief correspondence, and far more beautiful, with a coil of blonde hair piled high on her head and a serene face.

  “Your Grace,” Miss Manning said as she extended a hand.

  Elise shook it in a fog and then stammered, “O-oh, please, call me Elise. I don’t want to think about being the Duchess of Kirkford when I’m here.”

  Vivien lifted a brow at that declaration and then motioned Elise back to her chair. She took the one opposite and suddenly blue eyes were sweeping over her, taking her in, judging her. Elise swallowed hard at the other woman’s perusal. Would she live up to whatever standard she was being compared to?

  “Elise,” Miss Manning finally said. “Then you must be certain to call me Vivien. And I’m happy for that familiarity, but there is one issue.”

  Elise’s stomach turned. “And what is that?”

  “I may call you by whatever name you ask for, my dear, but the material point still exists that you are the Duchess of Kirkford.”