Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

Jamie.

Her belly flipped with nerves as he approached. She could not anticipate how he would react to her project. She’d purposefully kept the details from his estate manager. This was her domain, funded by her pin money. Yet, the cottages were Jamie’s, or at least belonged to the estate.

His easy smile did little to soothe her agitation. If anything, it kicked up her heartbeat. She tried not to notice how his riding breeches hugged his long legs, or how his jacket molded to his wide shoulders. She’d always known he was handsome; it was silly that the fact should steal her breath now.

The women noticed her distraction and turned toward the marquess. They greeted him with curtseys and murmured words to their children to bow.

Jamie smiled his lopsided smile into the crowd.

“My husband, the Marquess of Forster.” Did she sound breathless? She felt rather breathless.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt.” He waved a hand.

Taking him at his word, Cat straightened her shoulders and plowed on ahead. “We’ve also a barn for milking cows and goats, and pens for chickens. If you would please follow me.”

The women twittered behind her as they filed down the path.

“So handsome,”someone whispered.

“Dashing,”said another.

Cat could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she led the way toward a newly built barn. He was not going to like the surprises on the tour. She turned to face the crowd, her chin lifted to hide her nervousness. “The animals will be delivered once you are all in residence and can see to their care. To our right”—she pointed in that direction—“is the new lace factory.”

This was it, the moment Jamie would interrupt. She steeled herself and met his gaze.

But he said nothing, simply raised a brow. Lace factory? He did not need words to convey his surprise.

Marquesses did not have factories on their estates. And, if they must, they would support an iron furnace for a local mine or some other such industry. Not a lace factory.

Jamie strolled forward, his hands clasped behind his back, and poked his head into the small building.

Cat felt a tug on her skirts and looked downward. One of the young children, he couldn’t have been more than seven, stood at her side. “Ma tells me I don’t ever have to go back to the workhouse.”

“That’s right.” Cat smiled at the boy and put her hand on his head.

He beamed up at her.

“You will help your mother here, at the factory, but you will also go to school.”

“School.” He screwed up his face. “Aww.”

Again, Cat looked up at Jamie to gauge his reaction. He had disappeared within the factory. She could see the outline of his form through the windows. Ah, well, she couldn’t worry about him now. “Are you ready to see your cottages?” she called to the crowd.

“Yes!” the children cried.

“Follow me. Warner family.” Cat looked over her shoulder. “You are first here in the yellow cottage.”





JAMIE ENTERED THE COTTAGE at the back of the crowd and found his wife standing in the kitchen. She flicked her gaze to him, then over his shoulder. She was dressed right out of a fashion plate, as always. Soft wool fell in perfect lines, while lace framed her collar and cuffs. She was more of a delectable than a sturdy country miss. Jamie liked this about her. He liked it very much.

But he didn’t like the surprises that had awaited him. He supposed he could grow accustomed to the idea of a lace factory on his estate, but he should have been apprised of Cat’s plans earlier. He’d been home nearly a week, had visited the village more than once. His wife had possessed plenty of opportunities to make him aware of the extent of her project. Again she was taking matters into her own hands, making decisions without considering the effect they would have on his life and reputation.

The old irritation itched across his skin. Having a wife was harder than he’d ever anticipated. Especially a wife who did things her own way.

He relaxed a shoulder against the wall and took a deep breath. He was here to make amends with Cat, not begin a new quarrel.

The crowd was noisy and filled the cottage. A gaggle of women and children with a distinct lack of men. In fact, there wasn’t a single male over the age of twelve or so.

What else was Cat not telling him about her project? And why didn’t his estate manager know what was going on? The man had simply said that her ladyship was renovating the cottages.

Over an hour passed before Jamie could talk to his cunning wife. He spent the time inspecting the renovations. Cat had seen to everything, including refurbishing the chimneys for safety and repairing the roofs. The cottages were in near perfect condition. He had to admit, he was impressed. And he could not blame the families for their excitement. These inviting homes would be theirs in just a week’s time.

Finally, the crowd departed in a parade of carts and he cornered Cat by the fireplace. “Where are the men?”