Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

“Isn’t it my duty as a host?” Gareth kissed her cheek even as he covertly scanned the tent. He saw Cleo Barrows first, sending his heart leaping. She was speaking to another lady … whom he recognized a moment later as his betrothed bride. Not a promising beginning.

“I merely remembered that you told me you would be busy until the ball,” his mother murmured, linking her arm through his. “I’m very pleased to see you were drawn out earlier.” They strolled among the guests, pausing now and then to speak to someone. If Jack had assembled a gentlemen’s retreat in the stables, it seemed his mother had created one under the awnings for the ladies. Round tables held pitchers of lemonade, plates of cakes and biscuits, and pots of tea, constantly refreshed by servants. The seating included small settees and benches, although Sophronia was sitting in a large upholstered chair, like a monarch on a throne, slicing a cheese with her sharp little knife.

“Finally come to see the girl, Wessex?” The old lady fixed her gleaming gaze upon him. “You’ve hardly spoken to your bride.”

“Sophronia,” said the duchess. “Really!”

“I came to see you,” Gareth said before his mother could go on. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, which she presented with the regal detachment of a queen. “How are you, old dear?”

“Bored,” Sophronia replied. “Everyone here is too polite. There’s no trouble. No scandal.”

“Do we really want that?” he asked mildly. It only encouraged Sophronia when people gasped and swooned at her outbursts.

“It’s dull,” announced the old lady, pointing her dirk at him. “What good is a house party if everyone’s going to behave? I got my hopes raised when you invited that scamp, Jack Willoughby, but he’s barely shown his face around here! And even worse, he’s been a horrible distraction to Henrietta, and I have to let some parlor maid help me. I’m astonished to see her here today.” She glanced over at Henrietta, who was holding a plate of cakes and listening with obviously strained patience to a very earnest-looking young woman. “She still hasn’t brought my cake, though. I wager she’d bring it quickly enough if Willoughby wandered in.”

“I will speak to Henrietta,” began the duchess quickly, but Sophronia waved her off.

“Oh, let her have some fun. I’m sure they’re up to something scandalous. I’d pay a shilling to watch them torment each other, but they keep disappearing and Henrietta refuses to tell me what they get up to, the vexing creature,” she finished sourly, as if Jack and Henrietta had purposely schemed to deprive her of entertainment. “If she’s going to desert me, she might as well tell me how naughty he can be.”

“I’m not certain I can help,” Gareth said. He doubted Jack would be flushed out of the stables by anything less than a duel.

“I daresay you can’t,” she grumbled. “Too upstanding by half. And your bride—Miss Grey! I never met such a polite, proper girl in my life. At least the party includes a few interesting people. Have you met Angela?”

Gareth glanced at his mother, who looked nonplussed. “I don’t recall anyone by that name,” she murmured.

“Oh! I invited her. The daughter of a very distant relation—not your side of the family, Alice. Very intriguing girl. She must have slipped off somewhere, but you’ll meet her eventually.” There was a hint of relish in the old lady’s voice that made Gareth wonder what trouble this distant relation Angela might unleash.

“But Sophronia,” said the duchess delicately. “The house is very full. I’m afraid we haven’t any rooms to spare. If you had informed me earlier you wished to invite someone—”

“Don’t worry about that,” interrupted Sophronia. “Angela is staying with me. I need someone to talk to, now that Henrietta’s set her cap for Willoughby.” She scowled. “And if he doesn’t recognize her for the prize she is, I shall take my dirk to him. He won’t make a fool of my companion, no matter how charming his smile!” She stabbed her knife into the cheese for emphasis.

Gareth bit his cheek to keep from roaring with laughter at the image of Sophronia pursuing Jack with her dagger drawn. It was almost as entertaining as the thought of Jack falling for Henrietta, who was everything Jack was not: organized, responsible, and punctual.

He excused himself and made his way toward Helen, determinedly keeping his gaze fixed on her. She looked far livelier today, laughing and talking with obvious pleasure. She was truly lovely; her eyes glowed and there was a very handsome blush on her cheeks. She fluttered her hands about, as though portraying birds, and Gareth made the mistake of letting his eyes follow one graceful hand as she fluttered it over to rest on her sister’s arm. Her sister, sitting very close to James Blair on the bench.