The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(31)

They didn’t know. This was the secret she kept. The one she’d fled and would never forget.

“When I left, the day I left . . .” she trailed off. Tried again. “I cannot have another child.”

The silence in the coach was deafening, and Sera hated it. Hated that her sisters, who never seemed to be at a loss for words, could not seem to find them.

She looked up, refusing to cower. Sophie’s eyes glistened. Seleste’s mouth was ajar, her shock clear. Even Seline, the least emotional of them all, seemed horrified by the confession. Sera nodded. “Now you know. My future—it’s not a family.” Still, silence reigned. Sera looked to Sesily, wanting the confrontation that only a sister could give. “Come now, Ses. Not even you can find something to say?”

Sesily met her gaze without hesitation. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Six words, and somehow no one had ever said them. Sera had never even thought them. And now, there they were, like a perfect, welcome wound, stealing her breath. She pressed her lips together, regaining her composure. “No one does.”

Sesily nodded. “God knows that’s true. But you didn’t. And I think you ought to know it.”

Without a reply, Sera looked out the window, surprised, somehow, to see the chimneys of Highley peeking over the horizon. “We are nearly there.”

Her heart began to pound.

The last time she’d been in a carriage approaching Highley, she’d barely noticed the house, the way it rose up in stunning, stately magnificence, speaking to the venerability of the dukedom to which it belonged. It was massive—a sprawling estate house with grounds that spread over hundreds of acres of lush green countryside.

It was designed to impress. To intimidate. To separate the haves and the have-nots. She’d at once loathed it and loved it, because it was this place that had sired her husband, as though he’d sprung not from man, but from manor.

When she’d tempted Malcolm to smiles here, she’d felt more powerful than at any other time in her life.

She touched her fingers to the window, leaning toward it, imagining she could catch the sweet smell of the earth beyond. Imagining she could catch the past. The future it had promised.

She shook her head.

That future wasn’t possible. But that did not mean that a new one wasn’t.

A new one, where she was free. Where she cared for herself. Where she succeeded on her own merit and not the whim of her aristocratic husband. No matter how different he seemed. And he did seem different, though she could not put her finger on how.

She supposed she was different as well.

Different enough to know she must stay the course.

The carriage slowed to turn up the miles-long drive, swaying mightily on the less traveled ground, and Sera returned her attention to her sisters, each watching her, an assemblage of soldiers in corsets and petticoats. Awaiting their orders.

She looked from one to the next, each proud and prepared. She could not help her smile. “He’s going to be livid when we all pile out.”

“Good,” Sophie said, and Sera marveled at her strong, proud youngest sister. At the way she’d grown and blossomed. “I have rarely made the Duke of Haven’s life pleasant, and I don’t intend to begin now. He’s a massive debt to pay.”

The house came into view, and she instantly noticed him, standing alone at the top of the steps leading to the main entrance. She stiffened, and Sophie peered out the window. “Good Lord. Is he waiting for you?”

“No doubt he was afraid I would not heed his summons.”

“He’s proper horrid,” Seline said.

“There’s still time for us to turn the coach around,” Seleste offered.

For a moment, Sera considered it.

“Do you think he’s been there all morning?” Sophie asked.

“Possibly,” Sesily groaned. “No doubt he’s made some deal with the devil for endless stamina.”

Seraphina might have thought to thank heaven for her loyal sisters, each more willing to skewer Haven than the last. But she was instead transfixed by the man.

It looked as though it was somehow reasonable that he’d been standing on his steps all morning, still and strong—perfectly turned out in pristine coat and trousers, boots polished to looking-glass shine—as though he would happily remain there until nightfall. Longer, if need be. Sera hated how calm he looked, as though it were perfectly normal for a duke to linger at the entrance to his estate, awaiting his guests.

Not guests.

His wife.

The mistress of the house.

There had been a time when he had waited there for a different reason. Because he could not bear another minute without her.

She couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that came at the thought.

The carriage came into the rounded drive, and his gaze found hers through the small, mottled window. She resisted the instinct to look away. As it pulled to a stop, he came forward and Sera’s brow furrowed. What was his game? Where was the requisite liveried footman to scurry in and open the door with an aristocratic flourish? The Haven she’d known would never have dreamed doing a servant’s work.

Not true. He’d performed this exact task once before.

Her brows went up in question, and he raised an insolent brow, as if to say, You dare question me?

She changed her mind. This man was not so different from the Haven she had known. She could not wait to see his response when the door opened and he was faced with all five of the Soiled S’s. No. He’d never called them that. He’d always called them the other name. The worse one. The Dangerous Daughters.