Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

But deciding what he wanted was only part of the difficulty. He knew what he would have to do, somehow. It would be unpleasant, no doubt, and he didn’t quite know how to go about it, but this was a risk that was definitely worth the reward.

“Cleo.” He took a step toward her. She turned her face away, biting her lip, but otherwise she didn’t move. He took another step and reached for her hand. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It does to me.” He edged a step closer. She smelled of roses, soft and beautiful. “I didn’t believe in love, let alone love at first sight. I am torn in two, caught between what I want and what I’ve promised. Tell me what you want, darling, and I will move heaven and earth to do it.”

“I want my sister to be happy.”

“Only your sister?”

A shudder went through her. “No,” she whispered despondently. “But how can this end well for everyone?”

His fingers tightened on hers. “I promise it will.”

“How can you promise that?” She shook her head. She pulled her hand loose and finally turned to face him. There was no sparkle in her dark eyes now, no teasing curve to her lips. It was all he could do to keep from touching her. He wanted to hold her close and swear that everything would fall in place. Her unhappiness gutted him. “My parents—my sister—what will they think if you cry off? How could I cause such humiliation for my own wicked desires? Do you know what people will say about me, if you desert Helen for me? I can’t, Your Grace.”

“And what will your sister think of me if I marry her strictly out of duty?”

For a long moment she said nothing. “I hope you won’t—I hope you’ll be happy with her, and she with you. But I won’t interfere in my sister’s marriage.” She turned and hurried away, her footsteps muffled in the fog.

Gareth watched until she disappeared around the trees before cursing under his breath. He had to think; he had to find a solution to please everyone. He had learned to be a duke at age sixteen, responsible for solving his problems and everyone else’s. This was no different … merely his entire future happiness was at stake.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Blair, who came trudging across the lawn with a pistol case in hand. His cousin stopped short when he saw Gareth. “Wessex.”

“Blair.” Gareth stared at the case. “You look like a man on his way to a duel.”

“The duel was at dawn.” Blair looked troubled. “Bruton and Newnham.”

“They’re cousins,” said Gareth in shock. “And the best of friends—or so I thought. What did they duel over?”

“Rosanne Lacy. Newnham was courting her, but judging from what I just witnessed, Bruton will be marrying her.”

“What you just witnessed,” he repeated.

“Miss Lacy flying across the field, barely dressed and sobbing as if her heart would break.” Blair’s face twisted. “She flung herself into Bruton’s arms and I could see it in Newnham’s face. He loved her and yet knew he’d lost her. It takes a strong man to watch the woman you love marry another man.”

He heard again Cleo’s anguished voice, asking what her sister would think if he jilted Helen for her. Cleo loved him, but she couldn’t betray her sister.

On the other hand, the notoriously aloof Earl of Bruton had somehow fallen in love with the girl his cousin was courting, and he’d found a way to marry her. Gareth ignored the matter of the duel and focused on the result, which was that Bruton was marrying the right woman for him.

Somehow Gareth had to do the same.

“I trust no one was hurt,” he said. When Blair shook his head, Gareth added, “Excellent. Then it seems everything has worked out for the best.”

His cousin jerked up his head and gave him a strange look. “You really think so?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. I must remember to wish Bruton happy. He certainly deserves it.”

“I expect he and Miss Lacy will be very happy,” said Blair slowly.

“Yes.” Gareth grinned. “I expect so, too.”





Chapter Nine





CLEO TOOK THE LONG WAY back to the house before shutting herself in her room for the rest of the day. The conversation with Wessex whirled round and round her brain until her head ached. Every accusation her father had hurled at her seemed to be proven: she was wicked and reckless and dangerous to her family. Not only had she fallen in love with her sister’s fiancé, she had only by the very thinnest of threads held herself back from kissing him. She never should have walked out into the mist with him. She never should have bowled with him. She never should have come to Kingstag at all. She ate dinner in her room and sent for her trunk to begin packing, so she could leave as soon as the wedding was over.