Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

“I wasn’t worried about adoring her myself,” replied the duchess. “I worry about you adoring her.”


His jaw tightened. What a time to ask that question. “I have the utmost respect for her, and I trust we shall be very content with one another.”

His mother only sighed.

Irked at her and at Blair for ruffling what had promised to be a perfectly smooth welcoming, he descended the steps as the carriage reached the gravel and slowed to a more decorous speed. There was nothing to reproach in his actions. He was a sensible man who made logical decisions. He thought he’d chosen quite well, despite his mother’s sentimental disquiet and his secretary’s grim silence. If they had some objection to this marriage, he thought darkly, they had better speak soon or forever hold their peace.

But this was not the moment to brood about that. Straightening his shoulders, he prepared to welcome his future wife and her family. Miss Grey, her parents, and her elder sister would spend the next fortnight at Kingstag, preparing for the wedding at the end of that time. Behind him, the butler, housekeeper, and a few servants waited at the ready to greet their soon-to-be mistress. The house had been cleaned and polished to a bright shine over the last month to appear at its best for the wedding. He darted a quick glance at his mother, but she silently stepped up beside him, her serene smile back in place, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The sky growled again as the coach pulled to a halt. A dust-covered servant jumped down to open the door, and Sir William alighted first. The baronet fairly radiated triumph. “A very great pleasure, Your Grace,” he boomed, sweeping a bow as the servant turned to help Lady Grey down.

“The pleasure is mine, sir. Welcome.” Gareth greeted the older gentleman. “May I present my mother, the Duchess of Wessex?” His mother stepped forward and graciously greeted the baronet.

Gareth turned his attention to Lady Grey. “Welcome to Kingstag Castle, madam.” He bowed over her hand.

Her pleased eyes climbed the fa?ade of the house before she turned a beaming smile on him. “A pleasure it is to be here, sir. And for such a happy occasion!” She laughed, a little trill of delight. He smiled, then stepped forward to help his betrothed down from the carriage himself.

Helen Grey was lovely, he thought approvingly as she stepped down, her small hand nestled in his. He’d thought so from the moment he met her. Her dark hair was arranged in the latest style, her dress the picture of elegance. She looked as fresh and beautiful as the roses in his mother’s garden. The Greys must have stopped so she could change and refresh herself before arriving. “Welcome to my home, Miss Grey.” He raised her hand to his lips as he bowed.

She blushed, her cheeks a perfect soft pink. Her dark eyes glowed as she gave a little curtsey. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m delighted to arrive at last.”

Gareth smiled in satisfaction. She truly was the perfect bride. Her voice was just as lovely as he remembered, and her person even lovelier. Her manner was gentle and sweet. What more could a man ask for in a wife? He presented her to the duchess, pleased to see his mother greet her as warmly and graciously as ever. He knew she would never be rude or crass, but he wouldn’t put it past her to probe—in that delicate, almost imperceptible way she had—into Miss Grey’s feelings as well.

“How fortunate you arrived before the storm broke,” he said to Sir William. “It’s been threatening all day.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Lady Grey, fanning herself. “We were quite worried we would be caught in a downpour.”

“It looks to be a bad one,” observed Sir William, squinting at the sky.

“Indeed. Shall we proceed inside?” Gareth paused, remembering something. “But did you not say your eldest daughter would also be accompanying you?”

A moment of silence passed over the group. Sir William and Lady Grey exchanged a glance. Miss Grey wet her lips. “Yes. My sister did come. She wanted a moment to repair her appearance, I believe.”

“Ah.” Gareth nodded, and turned toward the carriage again, wishing the sister would hurry up and get down so they could step inside before the rain came and soaked them all. How long did she need to repair herself, anyway? Miss Grey managed to look as neat and elegant as any lady in town.

“I’m coming,” said a voice from the carriage. “Just a moment!” She appeared in the door of the carriage, her face hidden by a dark red bonnet. She gathered up her vibrant yellow skirt in one hand and reached out to take the hand of the footman waiting to assist her. “So sorry to keep everyone waiting,” she said a bit breathlessly as she jumped down and faced them all.

She looked like her sister, but different. Where Helen Grey’s face was tranquil and composed, this woman’s face was lively and expressive. Her eyes sparkled and danced. Her features were sharper than Helen’s and her figure was fuller, almost lush. And as she tipped up her pointed chin and looked at Gareth with openly interested brown eyes, lightning struck.