Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

Cleo laughed. “Of course! Such broad shoulders! Such brooding eyes! Such a lovely home!” She laughed again. “Did Mama see Kingstag Castle before you accepted his offer, or after? I thought she would swoon with delight when the house came into view.”


Helen sighed, her glow fading. “After. You well know she would have liked him had the house been a fright. He’s a duke, Cleo, and very wealthy,” she said in perfect imitation of their mother’s voice. “What more does a girl want?”

“Mmm, and handsome, too,” Cleo added. “A mother might want a title and a fortune, but a girl wants a handsome face.”

Helen tried, and failed, to repress her grin. “Cleo, you’re wicked.”

“Of course I am,” she exclaimed. “That’s why you love to have me about. But hush—” She lowered her voice and glanced around. “I did promise to be on my best behavior this fortnight,” she whispered. “So you mustn’t let on when I’m my usual awful self, or Papa will send me packing.”

Helen’s smile disappeared. “It was dreadful that Papa said that to you,” she said in a low tone. “You are not awful.”

Cleo lifted one shoulder. “To them I am. The stench of trade, you know. I suppose someday I might give away all my money and take up embroidery or some other suitable pursuit and live out my days in respectable poverty.” She gave a theatrical sigh and collapsed backward on the chaise as if in a swoon, throwing up one arm over her head in a fit of drama. “Perhaps then I’ll be acceptable. Poor and dull, but acceptable.”

“You could never be dull,” said her sister. “I’m ever so glad you’ve come, because if you’re here, at least it won’t be dull.” She shuddered.

Cleo uncovered her face and looked at Helen curiously. “Do you think it will be? Why? You’re reunited at last with your betrothed husband, about to meet his family and become his wife.”

Helen rolled her lower lip between her teeth and plucked at the lace on her sleeve. “I don’t know him that well, Cleo,” she confessed. “I’ve only seen him a few times this year. And last year … well, he didn’t distinguish himself from my other suitors in any real way. It seems odd, doesn’t it, that I’m to marry him in two weeks’ time and I barely know his name.”

“Gareth Anthony Michael Cavendish,” said Cleo. “How could you not know his name, when Mama’s been practicing saying it every day? ‘Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Wessex,’” she mimicked her mother, just as well as Helen had done. “‘Wessex of Kingstag Castle.’ ‘My son-in-law, the duke.’ ‘My daughter, the Duchess of Wessex.’”

Helen laughed again. “Stop! Perhaps I do know his name, but otherwise….” She shook her head. “The wedding just seems so near, all of a sudden.”

This time Cleo looked more closely at her sister. It had been clear to her that Helen was nervous their entire journey, but she’d thought it was only bridal nerves. Helen wasn’t usually a nervous sort, though. “Don’t you want to marry him?”

Her sister’s face turned bright pink. “Of course. Who would not?”

Cleo couldn’t argue with that, and yet…. “Perhaps he invited us early to get to know you better,” she suggested. “To steal away into the garden with you and kiss you senseless.” Helen’s eyes went wide. Cleo grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, don’t be like that. It’s not at all a trial to be whisked into the shrubbery for a clandestine kiss from a handsome man.”

Helen’s smile was a trifle wistful. “Isn’t it?”

“No doubt you’ll soon find out.” Cleo leaned forward, unable to resist prying a little. She didn’t see her sister very much anymore, and she missed her. She and Helen had never had secrets from each other, once upon a time, before Cleo’s marriage and subsequent widowhood had horrified her parents and made visits to the family home uncomfortable. “Don’t you want him to?”

Before Helen could answer, there was a tap on the door, closely followed by the entrance of their mother. “Oh, girls,” she whispered in ecstasy. “Isn’t this the loveliest house? Isn’t His Grace the handsomest gentleman? Oh, Helen, my darling, you are a very, very lucky girl!” She bustled over to kiss Helen’s forehead. Watching her sister, Cleo thought there was a flicker of panic in Helen’s eyes before she smiled at their mother.

“Thank you, Mama. I thought you were resting.”

Millicent Grey waved a hand. “Pooh! As if I could sleep away my first hours at Kingstag Castle. It’s one of the most beautiful estates in all of England! And my daughter will be mistress of it in just a few days’ time!” She swept Helen into another embrace. Cleo draped her arms over the end of the chaise and rested her chin on her arms, watching. It had been a long time since she’d seen such an outpouring of maternal affection.

“Now, are you feeling well?” Millicent placed her hand on Helen’s forehead. “Shall I send for a tonic? Luckily we’ve brought our own Rivers, I can have her prepare my special tonic at once.”