Read Online Wicked Nights With a Lover by Sophie Jordan - Free Book Online

then?”
    “Tonight?”
    “Did you not receive my letter?” Cleo shook her head. The light streaming through the mullioned glass struck her dark hair, making it appear blue in places. “Jack gave me your address. I sent it two days ago. I thought that’s why you were coming today.”
    Marguerite swallowed. She’d moved from the boardinghouse yesterday. Ever since her horrid nightmare, she’d been eager to leave the boardinghouse behind. Every time she glanced at the corner of the rented room, she expected to see the dark cloaked figure of Death again.
    Aside from that, Roger insisted on putting her up at a hotel until they departed. His sisters resided with him in Town, so it was hardly appropriate to stay with him, but he was eager to begin his role of benefactor.
    “What’s tonight?” she repeated.
    “Jack is throwing a little soiree for us.” Cleo’s smile looked tight and brittle on her lips, as if the words hurt to speak.
    “Oh, call it for what it is,” Grier bit out, brushing the crumbs from her skirts as she finished her biscuit.
    “I’m certain we can find you something to wear,” Cleo offered, the hope rife in her voice.
    “Did you not hear her?” Grier asked. “She’s leaving for Spain. I don’t think she wishes to snare a husband tonight. Not as we are meant to.”
    Husband. The word knifed through Marguerite, settling like a noose around her neck. It was as if Madame Foster was beside her now, whispering in her ear, you will marry.
    “Snare a husband?” she managed to get out past dry lips.
    “Jack has invited a few gentlemen to meet us this evening. It’s to be a special gathering.”
    “Special.” Grier snorted. “An auction more like it, so that these bluebloods may assess us as potential wives. It’s why he’s gathered us. He wants to wed us to some blue-blooded dandies, so he can call himself one of them.” She sighed. “But the prospect of marrying well, security … never having to worry about the roof over my head …” She gave a single hard nod. “I’d be a fool to pass up such an opportunity.”
    Marguerite stood on shaking legs, her head spinning. “I must go.”
    “You just got here.”
    “I’m sorry. This isn’t what I thought … what I expected.”
    “Marguerite,” Cleo settled her gaze on her. “You can’t mean to leave so soon. We haven’t even begun to acquaint ourselves.”
    “She’s white as a ghost.”
    “I’m so sorry. I can’t stay … I’ll be back—”
    “When? You’re leaving for Spain,” Grier reminded her.
    She was correct, of course. Marguerite took a calming breath. She was leaving for Spain. She was not getting married. Not getting married. No need to dart from the room like a panicked hare at the mere mention of a husband. No need to react so irrationally. Still, the word hung there, too much, too close … too dangerous.
    “I will call on you when I return.” Hopefully, her father will have deserted all mad notions of marrying her off by then and satisfied himself with the more obliging Grier and Cleo. She nodded doggedly, backing out of the room. “I must go. Take care. Both of you.”
    She left them, intent on leaving before coming face-to-face with her father, before she had to hear his mad, selfish scheme from his own lips.
    Free of the room, her heart calmed. Once she was free of Jack Hadley’s house, she was certain her pulse would return to normal.
    Sliding a shaking hand down her face, she started down the corridor. She hadn’t taken very many steps before she sensed she was not alone. A floorboard creaked, and the hair at her nape tingled.
    A memory flashed through her mind—the cloaked figure in her dream. A chill chased down her spine. Her heart hammered anew.
    She turned around swiftly, intent on putting her fears to rest, certain she would find nothing more than an approaching servant.
    A dark, blurred shape swept toward her like a great rolling tide. In less than a second, she was twisted around into arms