Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

“My sisters and mother prefer not to rise until the sun is high in the sky.”


“I’m sure they have good reason, particularly today,” she said lightly. “It would be very hard to rise early when there are guests and entertainments every evening.”

He smiled. “They are creatures of candlelight, even when there are no guests.”

“As long as they are all the same, I see no cause for worry. If Bridget were to favor the morning while the others did not….” She shook her head and sighed as the duke chuckled. “It’s lovely to see sisters so close.”

“Barely three years separate them. My father was away for much of my childhood as a diplomat.” Wessex slanted her a look. “My mother was quite joyous at his return.”

Cleo sighed, but with a smile. “How lovely to find a married couple in love.”

“And how sad when they are parted too soon,” he murmured.

She said nothing. It was true. The last time she had walked arm-in-arm with a man had been two years ago, before Matthew was cut down by an inflammation in his lungs. Not since then had she ever once felt the same easy companionship she seemed to have fallen into overnight with the Duke of Wessex. He was nothing like Matthew and yet … in some ways he reminded her of her husband. He had a wry way of putting things. He was even-tempered with everyone, from his ebullient sister Bridget to Cleo’s own flighty mother; even querulous Lady Sophronia never ruffled him. And he had a way of looking at her that made her feel every lonely minute of her widowhood.

“I understand you know too well how sad that is,” he said quietly. “Forgive me for mentioning—”

“No!” She squeezed his arm lightly. “I have nothing but happy memories of my husband.”

“Does that make it better or worse?” He cleared his throat. “To have loved and lost, I mean. My mother was destroyed when my father died. I was only a boy, but I became utterly convinced she would have been far happier if she hadn’t loved him.”

“I suspect she would disagree,” Cleo murmured. “Love is worth the risk.”

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I am beginning to agree with that.”

“I am as sure of that as I am sure the sun will rise in the east. I took a great risk and suffered a great loss, but I would do it all again. Real love is very much worth it.”

“A great risk,” he echoed, sounding pensive. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose there’s no reason not to tell you,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on something in the distance. She was under orders not to tell him and yet the words spilled out. “Helen knows, after all, so you would be sure to hear of it eventually. I eloped when I was seventeen. My parents have never forgiven me.”

He stopped, and she had to stop, too. Cleo realized how far she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “As bad as that?”

The concern in his voice made her flush. He wasn’t haughty and arrogant, looking down on her for keeping a shop—unlike her parents. The temptation was too much. “Oh, yes,” she said with a rueful smile. “I’m only here on sufferance.”

“Oh?” His voice was soft and warm, comforting and seductive.

“Yes,” she barreled on. “He wasn’t enormously wealthy, titled, or extremely famous; he was a merchant. And my parents have never recovered from the shame.”

“I see.” He leaned forward a little. “Why did you do it, then?”

She smiled wistfully. “Because I loved him. He made me laugh.”

The duke seemed mesmerized for a moment. His face was so still and yet rapt.

Cleo supposed she had just displayed her common nature, impulsive and reckless, and gave a little shrug. “There is so much of life that must conform to duty or polite behavior, but I don’t know how people endure it all if they aren’t happy, or at least content. My parents were horrified that I would run off like a hoyden with no care for how it reflected on my family. I suppose they only wanted better for me, but I…. I was happy. For that, I could endure any discomforts life brought.”

“Yes,” he said, as though very struck by her words. “How very wise you are.”

“Oh! Not really.” She blushed at the look he gave her, direct and probing. “Headstrong. Willful.” Those had been two of the kinder words her father used.

“What is headstrong and willful in a woman is often called decisive and bold in a man.” He took a deep breath. “I wish we had had this conversation several months ago. You have shown me a multitude of errors on my part.”