Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

He took a deep breath. What was the matter with him? It must have been the lightning. Once he met the lady in proper, dignified circumstances, he would revert to his usual sane, rational self. Surely a longer acquaintance would confirm what he truly believed, that Helen Grey was the best possible choice for his duchess. She would be an excellent hostess, a kind mother, and a good role model for his sisters. She would look beautiful on his arm. He would have her dowry property, which he had long coveted. Just thinking through the logical, sane reasons why he wanted this match had a calming effect. He had made the right choice, and his odd fascination with her sister was merely a passing flight of fancy.

The door opened behind him and James Blair came in. The storm had blown away, and Blair’s expression was once more calm and equable. He would be at dinner tonight as well, as he often was at family dinners or when there was an unescorted lady present. Gareth had even excused him from most of his duties for the next fortnight; Blair had spent a great deal of time around the Greys this spring, and he could help smooth any awkward moments that might arrive as the families mingled. “Ah, there you are. I was beginning to fear you’d left me to face the ladies all by myself.”

“Sir William would be there.”

“I had hoped for more,” said Gareth dryly.

“And here I am.” Blair made a grimace. “In desperate need of a drink, I’m afraid.”

“Yes.” Gareth seized on the word. Now that his cousin mentioned it, a drink sounded like just the thing. “A brilliant idea.” He went to the cabinet in the corner and poured two measures of brandy, glad of something to do.

“I’ve decided to grant your wish regarding Mrs. Barrows,” said Blair then, with no warning at all.

The brandy bottle seemed to lurch in his hand, spilling liquor on the silver tray beneath the glass. “What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his back to his cousin as he hastily mopped up the liquid.

“That I act as her escort this fortnight.”

“Ah yes.” Gareth had forgotten that request. It had seemed a natural one to make a week ago, when all he knew was that Helen Grey’s older widowed sister would be part of the party. Blair had already agreed to do that; why did he have to bring it up now? “I thought we’d settled that a week ago.”

“I was uncertain.” Blair accepted a glass of brandy. “But after meeting her today, I believe I may enjoy her company a great deal.”

Gareth was struck motionless. “Why?” was all he managed to ask. Had Blair also met her in the garden? Hadn’t he been cowed by the threat of lightning? For some reason, Gareth was wildly irked that his cousin might have seen her with raindrops glistening on her skin. Damn it, maybe they’d better go in to dinner at once, so he could take another long look at her and cure his irrational interest right away.

Blair seemed not to notice his tension. “I suspect she is the source of some tension in the family. There was something about the way she pressed her lips together when she stepped out of the carriage.”

He pictured her mouth and took a gulp of his drink. “She’s a widow with her own home. Perhaps there’s something in her own life, and not her family’s, that gave her pause.”

“No doubt. She married a shopkeeper when she was only seventeen, and she still owns and runs the shop.”

A shopkeeper’s wife. Gareth either hadn’t paid attention to that part of James’s report on the Grey family or hadn’t cared enough to remember. “Where is the shop?” he asked, instantly chagrined that he had done so. Why did that matter?

“In Melchester, near Grey’s property. A rather large draper’s shop.”

A draper’s shop. He pictured her running her fingers over bolts of brilliant silks, gauzy laces, satin ribbons. He tossed back the last of his brandy. Why did she run the shop? Ladies did no such thing; his mother would have fainted away at the thought of managing a shop. “How independent. What do you suspect, Blair?” He tried to get back to the main topic, which was … oh yes. Mrs. Barrows’s secrets. The way she pressed her lips together. “Is this shop a dark family secret?”

Blair shook his head. “No, although you won’t hear a word about it from Sir William. The man has a supremely inflated sense of himself, and I doubt he approves.”

“No, I expect not.” Gareth’s one overriding impression of his soon-to-be in-laws was pride. Sir William clung to it, and Lady Grey couldn’t hide her delight in having a connection to Wessex. He rather doubted a merchant in the family had been as agreeable to the Greys. “Why did she marry a shopkeeper?” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Apparently she loved him.” Blair’s faint grin returned. “I told you: impulsive, bold, and passionate. She’s a woman who isn’t afraid to pursue what she wants.”

Oh, Lord. He raised his glass and realized it was already empty. “Do you think that might be causing this tension you noticed?” he asked, grasping at Blair’s earlier comment.

“I’m not certain.” Blair spoke slowly. “Didn’t you remark it? I wasn’t aware of it earlier, in London, but it was almost palpable when they arrived.”