Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

She tilted her head and smiled cheerfully. Beautiful woman, sublimely so. But she was married to Magnus Temple, and in so far as his physical tastes went, he’d never been partial to blonds. At the moment he couldn’t conceive of taking any woman besides Portia to bed. If he were to have that choice again. If there were any hope of repairing the break between them. Which there was not.

“I thought I’d walk out with Magnus later. To Up Aubry for a pint.” He glanced out the window where there was now not a sign of a rain cloud. “If the weather holds as it looks to be doing. Improves the health, a good brisk walk.”

“Oh, dear.” She folded her hands on the table. “I’m afraid Mr. Temple is not likely to be back from West Aubry in time for that.”

He selected a piece of shortbread before he responded. “I didn’t know he meant to go.”

“He had parish business to attend to.”

“Nevertheless, he should return in ample time.”

“It’s quite a long ride to West Aubry and back.”

“By the road, yes. But he’ll have walked. With the weather like this, he shan’t be delayed for anything but his business.”

“Oh but he did not walk. He rode.”

“Why would he ride?” By the road under these conditions, West Aubry was at least two hours distant.

“He would have had to walk through your private lands.”

“Yes. And?”

“Enclosed lands. I’ve told him not to presume upon your good graces when that walk takes him within sight of your house.”

He frowned. “He’s always done so. Walked past Wordless—”

“Oh, I cannot approve.”

“Of what? Magnus taking the shortest route to West Aubry?”

“There are a great many things of which one cannot approve.” Her tone of voice gave him an unpleasant shock, for he’d begun to believe he would escape an uncomfortable conversation about him and Portia.

She gave him another ravishing smile. “Forgive me, but your estate, my lord, is Northword Hill. Not Wordless. It’s not respectful of anyone to call it that. I’ve told Mr. Temple he mustn’t. Portia, too, though she hardly listens to a word I say.”

“Why, when I don’t mind?” He put down his half-eaten shortbread. “Call the place what you will, Northword Hill, Wordless, or that ‘moldering pile of stones,’ your husband has always had leave to walk through the property. Even when my father was alive.”

She smiled as if she knew a secret and did not intend to share.

“I’ve no issues with him or anyone from the Grange continuing to do so.”

“It’s a matter of what’s proper, my lord.” She got that lost look again, and it did tug at his heart. He resisted the urge to comfort her. “A man of Mr. Temple’s position and station in life, who has dedicated himself to the work of God, cannot be seen by his parishioners to act in any way that is improper.” She dabbed at her mouth. How did Portia endure this without going stark raving mad? “That holds true for all his family. All we Temples must be above reproach. His wife and his sister included.”

He ate his shortbread without tasting any of it while he marshaled his thoughts and temper. Surely, he thought, she did not mean to be so officiously and stupidly nice about Magnus doing what he had always done, and with his blessing. And surely it was only his guilty conscience that made him think she was working her way toward a condemnation of him being out in the rain with Portia. In the stable block with their clothes undone or tossed up, neither of which facts she could possibly know.

“I think, Mrs. Temple, that your distinction is too fine.”

She plucked another chevron of shortbread from the tray and ate it slowly. “When we fail to observe the niceties we court the danger of failing in our larger responsibilities. To God, to ourselves and to others.” He could practically hear Magnus speaking through her words. “Does not the Bible tell us to respect our elders and those who are in a position superior to us? As those who are our superiors must be mindful of what is best for those beneath them in rank and consequence.”

“I’ll grant the inhabitants of Doyle’s Grange an easement to cross the estate lands.” He shrugged. “I’ll write to my solicitor and have it done.”

“Until then…”

He was so desperate to put off the looming unpleasantness that he changed the subject with an utter lack of tact or finesse. “I’ve known Magnus and Portia since I was a boy. We have always been on the best of terms. I should hope you believe there’s little I would not do for either of them.”

She leaned forward. “Magnus and I are so very grateful for all that you have done for us. He would never ask you for anything on his own, you understand. He is too fine a man for that.”

He nodded.

To his astonishment, her eyes filled with tears. “He will not ask you, so I shall.”

“Please.” He could not help thinking that he’d been maneuvered to a point where he’d agree to almost anything to keep from seeing her dissolve into tears.

“He’s worked so long and hard, and for his own beloved sister to thwart him like this.” She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

“This marriage of hers.”