The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(30)

“It isn’t funny!” Seleste protested. “The thing attacked me!”

The thing in question hissed.

The carriage slowed, and a tap came at the roof. “My ladies? Is all well?”

“And now the coachman thinks we’ve all gone mad!”

Sera found breath enough to call out, “All is quite well, thank you!” before Seline and Sophie collapsed into laughter once more, bringing her along with them.

When it had once more receded, Sesily spoke, one hand over her eyes. “If I did not feel as though the insides of me were soon to be outside of me, I am sure I would find this whole scenario terribly diverting.”

Sera swallowed an inappropriate hiccup of laughter. Sesily’s motion sickness was not amusing. “Sesily,” she said, attempting calm collectedness. “Why did you bring a”—she smirked, unable to stop the amusement—“cat?”

“Why not? People bring animals to the country,” she said with a weak wave of the hand.

“Of all the mad—” Seleste interjected. “Animals like horses! Like hounds! Not cats!”

“Why not cats?” Sesily asked.

“Because it’s not as though you can saddle up a cat and ride out for the afternoon, or toss it a stick. They’re terribly antisocial.”

“Not Brummell.” They all blinked as the enormous white cat in question meowed and bumped his head against Sesily’s chin. “Brummell is all charm.”

“Oh, yes. That’s the very first descriptor I would use.”

Brummell narrowed his yellow eyes at Seleste and meowed in what could only be described as feline affront.

“Brummell,” Sera said.

“Quite.”

“I, for one, think he does his namesake proud,” Sophie said.

“Thank you,” Sesily said. “Seeing as the rest of you are paired off, I thought it was only right that I be allowed a handsome gentleman suitor of my own.” She paused.

“None of us are paired,” Seleste pointed out.

“Not in this precise moment, but you’re practically songbirds the rest of the time. Like squawking doves.”

“Doves coo,” Sophie pointed out.

“Whatever.” Sesily waved a hand. “Perfectly paired. Like a damn oil painting.”

“Sounds a terribly boring painting,” Seline said.

“Enough. You know what I mean.”

And Sera did know. “I am not paired like a dove.”

Sesily looked to her. “Then why are we headed to your husband?”

“Because he’s forcing me to go there.”

“Just as he forced you to return to London? As he forced you to storm Parliament and demand a divorce?”

“Sesily.” Sophie’s gentle warning went ignored.

“Just as he forced you to leave?”

Defensive, Sera narrowed her gaze on her sister. “What are you saying?”

For a moment, it seemed as though Sesily might answer the question honestly. As though she might say all the things that she must have been thinking. That they all must have been thinking. Instead, she sighed and leaned her head back against the seat. Brummell took that moment to climb down from his perch and settle on her lap. “Only that it seems you are poking a bear, Seraphina. Why else arm yourself to the teeth?”

“How have I armed myself?”

“How else does a Dangerous Daughter arm herself?” This, from Sophie. “With the rest of us.”

Like that, the humor was gone from the moment, and Sera was returned to the present. To the fact that she was not simply out for a summer’s ride. To the fact that she was headed to the country, to the place she’d once loved as much as she’d loved its master.

The place where she’d lost herself. Left herself. The place she’d fled to begin anew.

Not anew. Again.

“And a cat, it seems,” Seleste added.

Sera ignored the attempt to lighten the mood. “I owe you all so many answers.”

Sophie shook her head. “You do not owe us anything. But if you would like to tell us what you desire, we are here to help you get it.”

Except they could not give her what she desired. They could not return her to the past, or catapult her into the future.

They could not restore what she had lost, or gift her with the only thing she could imagine would heal her wounds. Or make her forget she’d ever been married.

The only person who could do that was her husband, ironically. And so she careened toward him. To find her replacement. And fetch her divorce.

She would get her freedom. She would own the Sparrow. She would sing, and live a new life. And she would move forward.

She did not deny it seemed slightly easier with her sisters at her side, because of their loyalty. And there, in the shifting, clattering carriage, filled with stifling heat and an ornery cat, she resolved to tell them the truth.

“I have not been with Caleb.” Lord knew why she began there. But it seemed an important point. “I haven’t been with anyone since . . .”

Her sisters nodded. Understanding.

They didn’t understand, of course. But she appreciated the effort.

“Well,” said Seleste. “Once you’ve received your divorce, you’ll find another and build a life. Husband, children, the whole lot.”