Seven Wicked Nights

by Courtney Milan

  Now, even with the servants departed, they clinked their teacups at one another. Evan contemplated how to proceed.

  But Diana set her saucer on the table next to her and turned to look out the window. “You know, Evan,” she said softly, “I would never say or do anything to hurt you.”

  He leaned to place his cup on a nearby table. As he shifted, a forest-colored pillow tumbled to the floor. “I know. But—”

  She waved her hand. “I know what you’re thinking. I would never spread rumors saying that I saw your precious Elaine in the morning with an unknown man, either. I wouldn’t think of it.”

  He simply met her eyes levelly. She snorted.

  “Very well. I considered it for a few moments, but no longer. If I did any such thing, you’d simply tell everyone it was you, and you would marry her instantly.”

  “You know me too well.”

  Her lips pressed together. “I do.” She reached over and took his empty cup. It was a familiar ritual to have her refill it and then add a half-spoonful of sugar. She handed it back, almost unaware of what she’d done. “But I hardly see how this matters. You’re going to marry her in any event.”

  Yes. He was. But she’d not asked a question. She hadn’t needed to do so.

  “Don’t.” She adjusted the teapot on the tray. “Please don’t.”

  “If you tell me I can do better than her, this conversation is at an end. Besides, after last night, I haven’t any choice in the matter. Even if I’d wanted one.”

  Diana lifted her head, but only to look out the window. “Don’t,” she repeated. “Please. You’re the brother I never had. I’ve missed you these last months. But how can we be friends with her around? She will never forgive me. If you marry her, I shall lose you forever.”

  He swallowed.

  “I knew you…you were interested in her. I guessed it quite some time ago. Do you remember that time, when you asked me if we mightn’t stop laughing at her?”

  He nodded jerkily. It had been a few months into Elaine’s first Season. He’d broached the matter, speaking lightly, as if it were a joke. Diana had brushed him off, and he’d never said another word.

  “That’s when I suspected. And I knew that if you stopped teasing her—if she came to know you—of course she would fall in love with you. How could she help herself? And when she did, your loyalties to her would soon outweigh your friendship with me. Evan, she hates me. How could she not?”

  She forgave me. But he couldn’t grant Elaine’s forgiveness to Diana. And when Elaine had pulled from him this morning, he’d been left wondering whether he truly had received her trust.

  “You could try being kind for a change,” he said mildly.

  Diana gave him a sad smile. “After all that I’ve said? If I retract the claws, all of London society will devour me. It is either kill or be killed. If you’re not the wolf, you’re the rabbit.”

  “There are no wolves. There are no rabbits. We’re all just human. I think you will find that if you treat people decently, they will respond.”

  “If I were starting anew? Perhaps. But I can’t escape myself, Evan.”

  He knew what that felt like. He could remember it all too well—the sick feeling in his stomach, the certainty that no matter what he wanted, he was forced to continue on. If he stopped being an ass, people would laugh at him. If he changed, they would turn on him. He’d run away, but she’d not had that option.

  Diana’s eyes glistened. “I can’t stand myself,” she said, choking. “If people did not fear me so, how could anyone tolerate me?”

  He knew that feeling, too. But that kind of regard was as false as a thin crust of snow, hiding a bottomless crevasse.

  “It’s quite simple,” Evan said. “You’ll have to choose between accepting yourself and having others accept you.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh.”

  Once, long ago, they’d vowed never to let each other be hurt. What they’d done with that pledge had been ugly. But the promise itself…

  “There is one thing you should know.”

  “No need to even speak it. If I hurt your Elaine, you’ll have nothing further to do with me.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

  She raised her head, and for the first time, she met his eyes. She looked weary and ragged.

  “You were my first true friend,” he said. “I have always known that you would never purposefully wish me harm. You’re the sister I never had, and if you think I will turn my back on you, you gravely mistake me. Friends do not let go of other friends. Even if matters become difficult. Even if the road becomes rocky. Even if it seems as if there is no other choice.”

  She sniffled. “And what if you marry a woman who must certainly be my mortal enemy?”

  “Even then.” He stood and pillows scattered about him. “But I think you’ll find that most people can be remarkably forgiving.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and sad. “Even you?”

  He crossed to her and knelt beside her. “Especially me,” he said. And when she leaned against him, he hugged her, hard.

  Chapter Eleven

  UNTIL ELAINE WALKED INTO THE BALLROOM THAT NIGHT, she had not realized how much of herself she had locked away. She had always stood on the side of such rooms, dressed in colors that drew no attention.

  Tonight, for the very first time, she wore a ball gown of red satin. It hugged her waist and then flared out over a multitude of petticoats. The neckline skimmed the top of her corset, flirtatious without quite crossing over into the realm of provocation. The cut was simple—so simple, it had been fitted together in a matter of hours. The hem was still pinned in place, rather than sewn.

  It was simple, and yet when she’d looked at herself in the mirror beforehand, she’d been unable to look away. This was who she could be. For years, she’d had one purpose at gatherings like this: to make everyone look away from her.

  Tonight she wanted them to look at her. She stood on the edge of the polished wood floor, feeling like a ship clinging to the shore. Out there, amongst the crowd, there were waves and storms and monsters. Here at the edges there was safety. Her first step toward the middle of the room was the hardest. The second came more easily. With the third, people had begun to look at her and whisper behind upraised fans.

  Lady Elaine Warren didn’t wear red. She didn’t walk into the center of the room. She hid away everything about herself.

  Not any longer. For once, those whispers did not make her falter. They made her lift her chin and take longer strides. The fourth step was the easiest yet, and on the fifth…

  On the fifth, she saw Evan. He was standing against a wall, dressed in dark brown. His golden, curling hair was tamed, but when he turned toward her, something just a little wild entered his expression. His gaze dropped, and perhaps—she could not keep herself from grinning—so did his jaw. Just a little. By the time his eyes met hers, his smile matched hers, broad and unstoppable. He started toward her.

  She could not run. Not with these slippers on her feet. If she ran, the flowers would fall from her hair, and the straight-pins holding her hem in place would come undone. But her steps grew faster. She made no effort to hide her destination. They met in the center of the crowd. He reached his hands out to her, and she took them. He pulled her close—and then, with everyone watching, he kissed her. Hard.

  There might have been tongue involved. Eventually, he pulled away from her.

  “Evan,” she said, “I’m so sorry—this morning, I—”

  He set his fingers across her lips. “What did I tell you?”

  “You said when danger threatened, you were looking for someone who would hold to you and not let go. And I—”

  He glanced wryly down, where his hand still held hers. “You’re letting go, are you?”

  “No, but this morning, I—”

  “Elaine,” he repeated, “are you letting go?”

  “No,” she whispered. “No. I
love you.”

  His smile broadened and he leaned down to her. “Over the years, everyone stumbles. That’s why I’ll be here for you—and you’ll be there for me. I don’t expect perfection. I want you, and you’re a thousand times better.”

  Her heart was pounding. She was looking up into his eyes. The room was quiet with an expectant hush—

  Wait, the room was quiet? For the first time since his hands had joined with hers, she glanced around her. The crowd around them had indeed gone silent—and had drawn in quite close. Everyone was looking at them. Everyone.

  And why wouldn’t they?

  Evan’s smile simply broadened. “I love you,” he said, just loud enough to send a murmur rippling through the awaiting crowd. And then he tucked her hand behind his elbow and gestured to the crowd. “Clear the way,” he said, his voice commanding. “If I don’t find Lord Stockhurst and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage in the next five minutes, we’ll have a scandal on our hands. And none of you want that.”

  Evan wasn’t the only one smiling, now. All around them, people were grinning. And then, one by one, the members of the crowd began to clap.

  ACROSS THE BALLROOM, DIANA HELD HER HEAD HIGH, willing herself not to tear up.

  No matter what Evan said, she didn’t believe that they could remain friends—not if she continued on as before. Strange; she’d never felt nervous before in a crowd. But right now, she could sense her own vulnerability. For the first time, she was the rabbit. And lo, here were these many wolves.

  She caught sight of Miss Maria Wollton along the side of the room. Miss Wollton had pots of money, but it had all come from trade. When she spoke, she displayed a well-informed, intelligent mind. And so last month, Diana had called her a presumptuous little bluestocking. The appellation had stuck. It had been so easy to push the girl to a corner of the room.

  Diana crossed the room to her and dipped a little curtsey. “Miss Wollton.”

  “Lady Cosgrove,” the younger woman returned warily.

  “That…” Why should this be so hard? “That shade of peach is quite lovely on you,” Diana said, all in a rush. “It truly brings out the blue in your eyes.”

  Miss Wollton frowned in confusion. To her left, Diana could see the crowd gathering about Evan and Elaine, offering their congratulations. Soon, she would join in. She would have a great many things she would need to say to the two of them.

  But for now… Diana drew a deep breath and did the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

  “Miss Wollton,” she said, “I owe you an apology.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later.

  THE CHAMPAGNE HAD BEEN POURED in generous toasts. A dizzying multitude of friends and family had gathered around and offered the young couple congratulations. Elaine’s mother had scarcely been able to contain her happiness throughout the wedding breakfast, and so Elaine had barely managed to escape her parents’ home. A carriage decked with every spring flower had taken her away—all the way to Evan’s house, all of two streets’ distance.

  Despite the beat of nervousness in her belly, she’d been introduced to his staff and he’d taken her on a leisurely tour of his home—their home now, to fill with an entire life together. He’d shown her to her chambers.

  “The bed,” he said, quite seriously, “is the finest that money can buy. I had it made new for you, you know. I hope you…sleep comfortably.” A wicked smile danced on his face, and he glanced out the window at the afternoon sky.

  Evening was still a depressing number of hours away.

  Perhaps marriage did make you of one mind, because when she sighed, he winked at her.

  “I was thinking that after our arduous day, we might consider retiring early.”

  “What an excellent idea,” she returned, doing her best to keep her face straight and serious.

  He stepped outside and gave the orders. The majority of the servants disappeared as silently as they’d come, heading to their own revels below.

  Mary scarcely had time to divest Elaine of her formal white gown and replace it with an inappropriately virginal wrapper before a tap sounded at her door.

  “His Lordship is eager,” Mary said.

  “Mmm,” Elaine replied.

  “And how could he be? After all, just last night, you were—”

  “Mary, don’t you think you’ll need to pack? You have three weeks’ leave coming to you during our honeymoon. I should want to get started, were I you.”

  Mary smiled and withdrew.

  His Lordship wasn’t the only eager one.

  But when he entered, he did not fall on her and ravish her immediately. Alas. He stood in the doorway, the light of afternoon painting his gold hair in hues of orange. He’d shed his formal coat and waistcoat; the tails of his shirt were untucked.

  “Well, Lady Westfeld,” he said finally. “Are your accommodations to your liking?”

  “Why so formal?”

  He took a step toward her. “Formal? I’m just savoring the sound of your name.” Another step. “Lady Westfeld.” Another step, and he slid a finger under her chin. “Lady Westfeld of mine,” he whispered.

  “You’ll just have to be my Evan,” she said in response.

  “With pleasure.”

  And then, step by step, he drew her into the center of the room for a kiss—and another one—and another one after that. She took hold of his arms, and she didn’t let go.

  About Courtney

  Unlocked is a companion novel in the Turner series. The other books in the series are Unveiled, Unclaimed, and Unraveled. You can also get the entire series as a box set.

  Courtney’s latest series, The Brothers Sinister, includes The Governess Affair, a prequel novella, The Duchess War, The Heiress Effect, The Countess Conspiracy, The Suffragette Scandal, and Talk Sweetly to Me. I hope you enjoy them all!

  If you’d like to find out when Courtney’s next book comes out, please sign up for her mailing list at www.courtneymilan.com.

  Other Books by Courtney

  The Worth Saga

  Coming late 2014

  click here to find out more

  The Brothers Sinister Series

  The Governess Affair

  The Duchess War

  A Kiss for Midwinter

  The Heiress Effect

  The Countess Conspiracy

  The Suffragette Scandal

  Talk Sweetly to Me

  The Turner Series

  Unveiled

  Unlocked

  Unclaimed

  Unraveled

  Not in any series

  What Happened at Midnight

  The Lady Always Wins

  The Carhart Series

  This Wicked Gift

  Proof by Seduction

  Trial by Desire

  Chapter One

  IT WAS GOING TO BE A TERRIFIC STORM.

  Gareth Cavendish, Duke of Wessex, surveyed the rapidly darkening sky as he stood on the steps of his country estate. Gray-violet clouds boiled up in angry billows and every few seconds thunder rumbled, as if the storm were clearing its throat, preparing to roar. But so far not a drop had fallen.

  “I do hope they’re near,” he murmured, scanning the pristine landscape of his property. “The clouds may burst at any moment.”

  The man behind him shifted his weight. “Sir William is a very punctual man.”

  “Yes.” Gareth narrowed his gaze upon a far-off puff of dust, just visible beyond the stately oaks that lined the road leading to Kingstag Castle. A servant had been sent out to watch for the visitors’ arrival, but it was still over a mile from the main gates to the house. A moment later, a traveling chaise-and-four emerged around the last turn. “There. Just as you said, Blair. Very punctual.”

  His secretary murmured a vague reply.

  The carriage bowled smartly down the drive, drawing nearer. He stood a little straighter. It wasn’t every day a man welcomed his bride-to-be to his home. Miss Helen Grey, younger daughter of Sir
William Grey and the toast of the Season, would be the Duchess of Wessex by the end of the month. Gareth was very pleased with the match. Her father’s best property marched with one of his smaller estates, and according to the marriage settlements, that land would be his one day, as Grey had no sons. It was a good match as well, for the Greys were an old and respected family, even if they had fallen on rather hard times of late. And the young lady herself was ideal: a serene, gracious manner, a lovely face and form, and a beautiful voice. Helen Grey would make the perfect Duchess of Wessex.

  Gareth glanced again at the sky. He hoped the storm broke soon and blew over quickly. Guests were to begin arriving the next day, and he shuddered to imagine the chaos if everyone was kept indoors for the next week.

  “Let us hope there are no lightning strikes, hmm?” He half-turned to flash a faint smile at his secretary, who nodded, stony-faced. Gareth took another look at the man who was not merely his secretary. James Blair was his distant cousin from a poorer branch of the family and superbly competent. He relied on him like he relied on his right arm. Normally they worked together in perfect tandem, Blair anticipating his thoughts and Gareth relying on his cousin’s uncommonly good judgment in all matters. No one was more closely acquainted with his business concerns or personal matters, nor a better friend. He trusted the man completely.

  But now his secretary looked as though a funeral train were approaching instead of a bridal party. “All right, Blair?” he asked curiously.