Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

Cleo threw up one hand. “Helen needed to know her future husband cared for her. She needed to know she would be happy with him. It doesn’t matter what sort of house he has if she’s miserable!”


“This is the match of the season!” said her father furiously. “A brilliant marriage! You tempted your sister away from following her duty, prompting her into some hysterical fit. I knew it was a mistake to let you come.”

She shook her head. “Why is it Helen’s duty to replenish your fortune, Papa? Why wasn’t it your duty to make economies or learn investments or do anything at all to support your family? Instead you’ve been content to live off your daughters, taking the money I earned in my hateful little shop and now selling Helen in marriage, regardless of her feelings in the matter.”

Sir William’s face was purple. “You are dead to me now.”

Cleo just lifted one shoulder sadly. “I know. I’ve been dead to you for years. But now I think you shall be dead to me as well, if you cannot forgive Helen for what she’s done. Being happy is more important than being a duchess.” She turned to go.

“Cleo!” Her mother’s anxious voice stopped her. “You—you will still try to find her, won’t you? To make sure she’s not hurt, and—” Millicent cast an anxious glance at her husband. Cleo’s heart started to soften toward her mother. Perhaps one parent would be made to see reason; surely her mother still cared about more than Helen’s status. “—and perhaps,” Millicent went on hesitantly, “perhaps she might reconsider….”

“Yes, Mama,” she said, and left the room, closing the door on her parents. Her heart thudded, both with disbelief that she had finally been so blunt with them and with surprisingly little regret. She had borne it because she believed that, deep down, they loved her and Helen; she had told herself they were simply unable to conquer their disappointment in her marriage to Matthew. A shopkeeper was a distinct step down, and she had excused them that. But finally she accepted that it was excessive pride, indifferent affection, and arrogance. They wanted their daughters to marry well so they might live more comfortably and trade on their daughters’ connections. Her actions, like Helen’s today, mattered to them only as a reflection on their own state.

And if Helen had finally taken charge of her own life and happiness, there was nothing at all to stop Cleo from doing the same. She didn’t know where Wessex’s rooms were, but she found the butler and told him she must speak to the duke urgently. He directed her to the study at the back of the house, overlooking the gardens.

At the door she took a deep breath and knocked. Just the sound of his muffled voice made her pulse jump. She let herself in, glancing quickly around to be certain there was no one else in the room.

He was alone, standing in front of the window with his hands clasped behind his back. Just the sight of him made her dizzy with yearning and hope. She unfolded Helen’s note. “I have something to tell you, Your Grace. It is about my sister.”

His attention was fixed on her. “Oh?”

“Yes.” She checked that the door was securely closed. “My sister left me a note, which I only discovered a few minutes ago. May I share it with you?” He inclined his head, and she wet her lips, then read Helen’s note. “Dearest Cleo: By the time you read this, I shall be gone from Kingstag Castle. I am writing to you because you are the only one who will understand why: James and I are eloping. We hope to make Gretna Green by the end of the week.”

Her voice faltered. She swallowed, and read on. “I am very sorry to do such a thing to His Grace. He honored me greatly with his offer of marriage, and I did accept him honestly. But I feel it would be an even greater disservice to him if I were to go through with a marriage I no longer want, and could not be happy in, while I loved another man. Comfort him, Cleo, and tell him I am sorry. Your loving sister, Helen.”

For a long moment there was silence. Cleo folded the note, unsure what to do next.

He crossed the room to her. “May I see it?” She gave it to him, trembling a little as his fingers brushed hers. Wessex unfolded the note and read it before letting it fall to the ground. “So I’ve been jilted.”

“I believe you have been.” Her heart beat so hard it hurt. He wasn’t going to marry Helen, sang the wicked voice inside her head. Some remnant of duty obliged her to add, “My parents are distraught that Helen would do such a thing.”

“Yes, I imagine they are,” he murmured. “Are you?”

“Well—I wish my sister had confided in someone before disappearing in the night and giving us a great fright….”