The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(40)

“You asked me to find you a second wife, Duke. Considering what a hash you made with the first, I should think you’d be grateful for tests.”

“What, like foot races? And dressage?”

“You’re not far off, as a matter of fact.” His brows rose, and she rewarded his curiosity. “Lawn bowls, certainly.”

He nearly chuckled, and Sera was nearly pleased. Nearly remembered how handsome he was. Nearly remembered how wonderful it was to be the focus of his pleasure.

Nearly.

A firm knock sounded on the door, followed instantly by Sesily’s bellow. “Sera! Haven’s harem has arrived!”

Her lips twitched, and she was quite proud of herself for the serious look she gave her husband. The duke. This would be much easier if she stopped thinking of him as her husband. He wasn’t, after all. Not really. Not since their wedding. Not since before.

Not that it would be difficult for her, either way.

She was merely thinking of the other women. Of her replacement.

She cleared her throat, and called out, “Yes! I see them!”

“Well, we should go down and give them a look, don’t you think?”

“I do, rather,” Sera replied, enjoying Malcolm’s discomfort.

“Right then!” Sesily said, cheerfully. “I’ll just tell Sophie to squeeze into whatever frock still fits round her ever-expanding midsection.”

“Oi! I’m standing right here! Wearing a frock that fits quite well, thank you very much! And you’re one to talk, covered in cat fur. You’re not bringing him, are you?”

“Of course I am. It shall be the first test of their mettle! Also, Brummell has discerning taste.”

“As the beast enjoys your company, I can’t say I believe that.” Seline had arrived in the corridor beyond. “Come along, Sera!”

“Good God, there are a lot of them. And you think the house is not feminine enough?” Haven asked.

She smiled. “Not nearly, no.”

He growled his frustration, turning for the door to his chamber. “Don’t scare them off.”

“My sisters?” she asked, all innocence. “They don’t scare easily.”

“You know precisely whom I mean. If anyone can terrify a group of debutantes, it’s you lot.”

“They don’t call us the Dangerous Daughters for nothing, Your Grace.”

He did not laugh, and she realized the retort was not funny. Not for him. Not for her, either. Not when he turned back, time stretching with impressive weight, and said, “You never came with things.”

She stilled. She hadn’t come with things. Not with a trousseau, or a maid, or anything, really. None of those things mattered when she married him. But he’d been too angry to notice. “I was different.”

She hoped he’d let the answer stand without reply.

He didn’t. “Because you came for me.”

Every time.

She could have lied, but she didn’t wish to. She didn’t want to be someone she was not ever again. “Yes.”

He nodded and crossed over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

Only then did Sera say the rest. “I came for you. Just as I left for you.”

She smoothed her skirts and went to meet the women who hoped to marry her husband.





Chapter 12



Scrumptious Scandal! Seraphina to Select Successor!



The Talbot sisters met Haven’s suitesses in the drive, along with a collection of their secondary players—four mothers, one father, and three miniature dachshunds who did not care for Brummell, who hissed with fervor from the safety of Sesily’s arms.

Beyond the collection of guests, in the frenzied backdrop of the manor house courtyard, servants from within and without already rushed about, unloading trunks and hatboxes and saddles and—was that a bathtub? Why would they require a bathtub?—as the quartet of girls was thrust forward for Seraphina’s inspection, each with seemingly less understanding of the protocol required for the situation.

Not that this particular scenario was common enough to receive attention in Mrs. Coswell’s Book of Ladies’ Manners. Indeed, Sera thought Mrs. Coswell might summarily perish if she were apprised of the goings on at Highley.

There was no reason why they could not make the best of a strange situation, however. If these four were all that stood between Seraphina and her freedom, she was certainly willing to play her part. With a wide smile and even wider arms, she said, “Good morning, ladies.” The girls froze, eyes wide, looking first to each other and then to their respective mothers, clearly not knowing how to reply. Sera let her smile reach her eyes. “I am Lady Seraphina.” She deliberately used the address she’d had prior to her marriage.

The smallest of the four, a diminutive brunette stepped forward, dressed in shell pink and with features so small and delicate that they reminded Sera of a mouse, though not altogether unpleasantly. “Do we call you Your Grace?”

It was decided. She liked this one, who had no trouble getting right to the point. “I confess, I would prefer you not. After all, we’re all here to ensure that I am not Her Grace for any more time than is absolutely necessary.”

The assembled mothers and daughters tittered. “This is highly irregular,” one of the maters harrumphed. “Where is the duke? It’s wildly inappropriate that he send you lot to greet us.”