Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

“You mean … the wedding?” Cleo frowned a little. “Has it simply overwhelmed you?”


“Has it!” Helen gave a disbelieving laugh. “To no end! I have no idea who half these guests are, and if I have to listen much longer to Mama talk about how perfect Kingstag is and what an honor it is to be mistress of it, I may scream. You were so clever to elope, you know. You spared yourself immense aggravation.” She stopped, looking startled, then flashed a cautious grin. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Well, I think I’m done with doing what I ought to do.”

“Oh,” said Cleo, disconcerted. “Good.”

Her sister laughed again. “It is good—or rather, it will be, thanks to you.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Cleo repeated. And she would do whatever it took, including going away and never visiting her sister and her too-tempting husband again. Wessex was not hers to lose; he was Helen’s. And Helen certainly wouldn’t lose him to Cleo.

Helen smiled. Tears still glittered in the corners of her eyes, but they no longer ran down her cheeks. “You do, don’t you? Oh, Cleo, I think I would have gone mad without you. Sometimes I feel as if you are the only one who truly understands me.” She flung her arms around Cleo, and Cleo hugged her back, heartsick. If Helen really hadn’t wanted to marry Wessex, there might have been a chance … but it was foolish to have let the thought cross her mind. Firmly she smothered it, renewing her silent vow to leave as soon as the wedding took place.

“There,” she said, patting Helen’s back. “Dry your eyes. You only have one more day before your wedding.” The words were like a blow to her heart. “It’s finally upon us,” she said, her voice only breaking a little at the end.

Helen laughed, swiping at her eyes. “Yes. So it is—and I am ready for it at last,” she said. Her doubts seemed to have been allayed, which meant they couldn’t have been very serious doubts. Cleo told herself that was a good sign. “Thank you for coming. You’ve done me a world of good.”

Helen mustn’t know that her conscience was only just holding back the longing she felt. Helen didn’t know her sister was thinking impure thoughts about her future husband. Cleo gave a shaky smile. “I’m delighted to be of help, any help I can be.”

“Believe me,” said Helen earnestly, “you’ve been more help than you know.”





GARETH REALIZED TWO TRUTHS THAT DAY.

First, he couldn’t marry Helen Grey. Not only did he not love her—and suspect she did not love him—but the mere mention of Cleo made him forget the very existence of his betrothed bride. Just a glimpse of her snared his attention, and the very sound of her voice made him deaf to anything and anyone else around him. Everything she did persuaded him she would be perfect as his duchess—not a biddable ornament but a true partner. Gareth had little choice but to admit he was utterly lost.

But second, Cleo would never do anything to hurt her sister, even if she did want him as badly as he wanted her. What could he say to that? Gareth had sisters, too. He would never want to hurt them. Still, it would hurt Helen far worse to end up married to the wrong man, and he knew he must speak to her. Somehow—without mentioning Cleo—he would persuade her to break it off. It would be a great surprise to all the guests, but he was sure his family would support him, particularly when he revealed his true affection to them.

But there his plans were thwarted. For the rest of that day, Helen seemed to have gone into hiding. He finally located Sir William and inquired, only to be told Helen was busy with her mother, having her dress fitted. Mention of the wedding gown only made Gareth more anxious to see her, but she wasn’t at dinner. Neither was Cleo. He went to bed determined to see both of them the next day.

He hadn’t counted on his own mother and sisters, who surprised him with a private family breakfast the next morning in the duchess’s sitting room. “After today you will belong with your wife,” his mother told him with a smile as they lingered over coffee, “but we wanted you to ourselves one last time.”

“I refuse to give you all up,” he replied. “Surely you’re not planning to leave after tomorrow?”

Serena laughed. “Of course not! But you won’t want us about anymore, when you have Miss Grey.”

Gareth had to bite his tongue to keep from correcting her. “I shall always want you about. Who else will protect me from Sophronia? She was threatening Jack with her dirk the other day.”

Bridget hooted. “Perhaps Mrs. Barrows will! She’s not frightened of Sophronia.”

An excellent idea, thought Gareth, sipping his coffee to hide his reaction to her name. He quite liked the idea of Cleo defending him.

“Come, girls.” The duchess rose from her chair. “Your brother has a great deal to do before the wedding tomorrow. We must leave him in peace.” They protested a little, but bade him farewell with much laughing and teasing.