The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(110)

Indeed, it was Mal who required Sera’s strength when, minutes later—the healthy cries of their second son filling the room and Mal’s heart—she delivered their third daughter.

Hours later, as the sun set in the distance, turning the room a rich, golden hue, Mal entered the Ducal rooms to find his wife abed, looking every bit an angel, hair down about her shoulders, surrounded by their children.

She held one of the twins, the second asleep at her side, both blissfully unaware of the thorough inspections they received from their older siblings. Sera’s gaze found him, blue and full of love, a smile playing over her lips before she said, restrained amusement in her tone, “We are considering our options.”

He approached, feeling as though his heart might burst from his chest at the picture they made, these children, this woman. His loves.

Amelia was on her hands and knees, considering the baby on the bed. “I prefer this one.”

Oliver shook his head, all seriousness. “I don’t. Sisters can be very troublesome.”

“That much is true,” Sera agreed, speaking from vast experience. “But they can also be terribly loyal.”

“And excellent in battle,” Mal added, winking at his wife.

“Nevertheless,” Oliver said, “I would prefer to keep the boy.”

Mal’s brows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”

Sera grinned. “It seems they only had one name selected, and so we must choose which to keep.”

He matched his wife’s grin. “Does the name help with the decision?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

He looked to his older children. “What is it?”

“Chicken,” Amelia said, simply.

Mal laughed loud and long, before taking his place at the head of the bed, on the other side of his youngest daughter. “Well, I think we’ll be keeping them both if you don’t mind.”

Oliver sighed. “If we must.”

Mal leaned over to kiss his wife, soft and lingering. “You are magnificent.”

“I am, rather, aren’t I?” she said, happily.

He chuckled and leaned down to place a kiss on the forehead of the boy in her arms, and another on little girl asleep on the bed.

“And me!” Amelia cried, launching herself into his embrace. He cuddled her against his chest and kissed her forehead, too, as Oliver scurried into the cradle of Sera’s free arm.

The family lingered until the last of the golden sun had dissolved into red and purple streaks and faded to black, revealing stars and a sliver of moon in the night sky beyond. Mal carried his children to their respective chambers, settling the babies in the next room—the rooms once reserved for the Duchess of Haven had been turned into a nursery, as neither Sera nor Mal had any desire to sleep apart.

Once the children had been cared for, Mal returned to find his wife at the open window in their bedchamber, a nightingale singing in the darkness beyond. From behind, he pressed a kiss on the soft skin peeking above her night rail, wrapping his arms about her.

She leaned into the caress, giving herself up to it for long, lingering minutes. “You are going to catch cold in this window, wife.”

“Do you see?” She pointed. “He’s here.”

He followed her direction. “Orion. Poor chap, always chasing.”

“I think you mean poor girl, never caught.” Sera turned to him then, tilting her face to his, sliding her hand up to pull him down for a kiss, deep and slow, filled with love. When they parted, she added, “She ought to take matters into her own hands. He’d never know what hit him.”

“Nonsense.” He lifted her high in his arms and carried her back to bed. “If she chased him, he’d do everything he could to get himself caught. And well.”

She smiled at that, tucking herself against him. “And what happens after she catches him?”

He kissed her gently, marveling at this life they shared. “Happy ever after, of course.”

She smiled, eyes closed, sleep coming fast. “Finally. Well deserved.” k12





Author’s Note


Haven and Sera’s story has haunted me for longer than I can say—since long before they had names and took center stage in The Rogue Not Taken as the catalyst for Sophie and King’s love story. The Day of the Duchess is a story of finding hope from sorrow—from a marriage that might never work and a loss that might never be overcome—and when I sat down to write it, I had no idea that it would become the story of so many women I’ve known, women who have amazed me with their strength and their ability to face an uncertain future. I could not have predicted that, over the course of writing this book, I would be so inspired by so many—friends, family, readers, strangers—all made of beauty and steel. Sera is for all of you.

While it may seem as though Sera and Haven’s divorce was too easily obtained, the events in the story are a surprisingly close reflection of divorce proceedings in the House of Lords during the early 1800s. Until 1857, women were largely excluded from petitioning for divorce, as wives had no legal personage. What’s more, wives were not allowed to testify on their own behalf in Parliament, which made divorce on the grounds of anything but female adultery tricky. In the late 1700s, however, a shift came in the way Parliament and society viewed marriage—as less a requirement for property and more a possibility for happiness—and divorce petitions rose significantly . . . along with spousal collusion. Essentially, men and women trapped in unhappy marriages worked together to achieve their common goal—usually with an unsuspecting bystander being dragged into the ruse as a witness to a wife’s adultery. A quick (albeit expensive) Parliamentary vote resulted in the dissolution of the marriage, and everyone was free to head off and marry their lovers. I was shocked by how easily a rich and powerful couple might obtain a divorce—and fascinated by the idea that husbands and wives might work together to get it done. For a rich, riveting history of divorce in England, I recommend Lawrence Stone’s Road to Divorce, which was a constant companion while I wrote—much to my own husband’s trepidation. The extensive Parliamentary collections at the British Library were also essential to this part of the story.