The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(42)

She cleared her throat and looked to Admiration, immediately regretting her sharp tone and the way it hinted at her unwelcome thoughts. “And you are?”

The girl did not flinch. “Felicity Faircloth.”

Sera blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Admiration smiled. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“A bit.”

The smile became a smirk. “Does it help if I tell you I’m Lady Felicity Faircloth?”

Sera gave a little chuckle. Admiration was her favorite. “It does not.”

“What a pity,” Felicity said, showcasing absolutely no disappointment. “And if I told you my father was Marquess of Bumble?”

Sera tilted her head. “There’s a Marquess of Bumble?”

“Indeed there is. Old and venerable.”

“Well, since Haven brought you here, I’m unsurprised by that.”

Felicity looked to Sesily. “That’s a lovely cat.”

Brummell howled and Sesily preened. “Thank you.”

“Is it feral?”

Sesily blinked. “No.”

“Pity. I had hoped it might take care of my mother’s dogs.” The three dachshunds were beneath a nearby hedge and, in order, digging a large hole, relieving itself, and ingesting a twig. Felicity followed Sera’s gaze. “They’re horrible.”

“Then I assume you don’t come with dogs?”

“Good God. No. Only my mother.”

“But you do come with her.”

Felicity winked. “She’s so desperate for me to be a duchess, that might be negotiable.”

Sera laughed. This girl had absolutely secured first place, and she wasn’t yet within the walls of Highley. Sera would have her divorce in no time. She ignored the way the thought settled, slightly off, instead thinking of the Sparrow, and her future.

Divorce meant freedom.

If Haven liked Lady Felicity Faircloth, or any of the ladies, honestly, freedom was hers.

That thought settled slightly better.

She looked to Haven, who was watching her carefully. “Duke. Come meet Lady Felicity Faircloth.”

As he did, the final coach arrived, stopping just past the assembled group, and Sera turned to the rest of the assembly, arms wide, attempting to move them to the entrance to the manor house, out of the path of the conveyance. “My lord and ladies, and Mrs. and Miss Mayhew, welcome. Let’s get you all settled, and we shall plan for a lingering lunch during which we may all get to know each other better. There shall be games and, of course, decent drink.” She had Lord Brunswick’s attention then.

The words set the group in motion, one of the women saying in a loud whisper, “It’s a bit of cheek to pack three coaches, don’t you think?”

The question, meant to undermine others, put Sera on edge, serving as a keen reminder that she loathed these people and this life, and that she could not wait to be rid of it, and the man who tethered her to it.

She wouldn’t have the backbiting. This gaggle of climbing, scheming titlemongers could bite in full view, or be civil. Seraphina remained mistress of the house and owner of the title, and so she would set the rules.

“As a matter of fact, I think the extra carriage shows a marked preparedness that is admirable in one who will run such a far-reaching household.” She looked to Malcolm. “Don’t you, Your Grace?”

He did not hesitate to lie, which was surprising, considering the fact that minutes earlier, he’d expressed the exact opposite feelings about the mass of coaches trundling up the drive. “Indeed.” Mrs. Mayhew’s cheeks went red as the duke looked to the young women. “And which of you is so thorough?”

The girls, for their part, looked to each other with a mix of curiosity and regret on their various faces. Finally, Lady Lilith spoke. “It seems none of us pass this particular test, Your Graces.”

And as if to prove the woman’s point, the door to the ninth carriage burst open, ricocheting off the coach and bouncing back to nearly slam shut before it was caught and controlled, and one large, long, buckskin-covered leg came to the ground.

“Oh, dear.”

“What does that mean?” Malcolm’s question came harsh and quick.

Sera did not have time to elaborate when a dark head popped up above the carriage door, followed by wide shoulders in a perfectly tailored navy blue coat.

Those assembled seemed to hold their breath at the appearance of this brash intruder.

What was he doing here?

“Ding-dong,” said Sesily, at which point Sera was fairly certain she heard Haven growl.

This was not the plan.

Something had gone wrong.

“That had better not be—” Haven left the sentence unfinished when the man turned, revealing a face battered and bruised with what Sera could only imagine was wicked skill. Caleb Calhoun smiled, revealing his teeth, somehow still unscathed, and closing the door with a single, smooth movement. He approached as though this was all perfectly normal.

She was already moving toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you.” Removing his tall hat, he said, “I say, this place is busier than Faneuil Hall fish market at half past five.”

The women assembled gave a little gasp at the words.

Well, most of the women assembled.