The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(56)

Lady Emily blushed prettily and dipped her head, uncomfortable with the praise. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It is a good throw, rather, isn’t it?”

“No one likes a lady with confidence, Emily,” her mother called out from where the older women were assembled beneath several large shades nearby, fanning themselves and watching the game with frustrating focus. “You shall never win the duke’s attentions if he thinks you prideful.”

Emily’s face fell. “Yes, Mother.”

“If we ever see the duke, you mean,” Mrs. Mayhew said before barking, “Shoulders back, Mary. He could arrive at any time.”

Sera did not think Malcolm would come anywhere near lawn bowls, but she avoided saying so, turning her back to the mothers with a bright smile for Lady Emily. “I thought it was a terrific throw.”

“Toss,” Seline said again, following the groans that ensued with, “I agree. Also, don’t ever listen to your mother, Emily. Decent men like a woman who knows her value.” She paused, then said, “Though I’ll grant that we’ve seen no evidence that Haven is a decent man.”

Sera sighed. “He’s a decent man.”

“I should demand proof of it before I agree to marry him, girls,” Sophie said from her place near a stack of blue bowls.

Her sisters were dangerous, indeed. If they did not stop with their snide comments, Haven might well be without a betrothed in the end, which would render this entire exercise moot and leave Sera without a divorce.

She would be damned if she was spending weeks at Highley, with its memories around every corner, for a moot exercise. “He is a decent man,” she said, sending warning glares at her sisters. “You shall just have to take my word for it.”

“Not to be contrary, my lady,” Lady Lilith piped in, “but did you not leave him?”

“Lilith!” Countess Shropshire barked. “That’s quite enough.”

“You’re the one who said I should do my best to understand the man,” Lilith pointed out.

“Not like this!” her mother protested. “Be more subtle!”

Lilith grinned in Sera’s direction. “Subtlety has never been my strong suit.”

“Not to worry, Lady Lilith, Duchess isn’t very subtle herself.” Caleb had arrived, looking freshly rested and freshly washed. He raised a brow in Sera’s direction. “After all, she nearly brought down Parliament several weeks ago.”

Sera cut him a look and did her best to change the subject. “Mr. Calhoun! How kind of you to join us. I do know how you enjoy outdoor games.”

“I prefer things where there’s a bit more of a threat of danger.”

“You haven’t played lawn bowls with the Soiled S’s,” Sophie said cheerfully.

“Fair enough.” He looked to the field. “An excellent toss.” He winked at Lady Emily, who immediately blushed.

“Emily!” Countess Brunswick barked again, and her red-faced daughter moved to join her team.

“Stop it,” Sera said, approaching her friend. “You’ll chase them all away.”

Caleb’s masculine pride was palpable. “If you think that girl wants to run from me, you’re losing your understanding of young women in your old age.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I’m barely nine and twenty.”

“Practically one foot in the grave,” he replied.

She huffed her irritation. “How is my tavern?”

He raised a brow. “My tavern is fine. Repaired. The entertainment is passable.” He’d been heading to London nightly to oversee the business of the pub, to ensure the entertainers were safe and the liquor well stocked.

She nodded. “But?”

He tilted his head. “But without the Sparrow, it’s a watering hole.”

A pang of regret threaded through her. She missed the place, the smell of freshly worked wood and liquor, the smoke of the candles and tobacco, and the sound of the music—the best in London, she was certain.

But mostly, she missed herself there. The way she lost herself to the music and became herself. The Sparrow. Free.

“How’s your divorce?”

“If he’d spend time with the girls, it would help.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want the girls.”

“They’re his selections.”

“Maybe he only selected them because he didn’t think you were an option.”

She scowled. “I’ll be back as soon as he picks a wife.”

Caleb grunted, and she did not like the meaning imbued in the sound. “What?”

He rocked back on his heels, fingers in the waist of his trousers. “Nothing. Only that I’m not certain you’re coming back at all if you can’t stand up to your duke.”

She narrowed her gaze with an angry whisper. “What does that mean?”

“You think I don’t know what happens whenever you are alone?” her friend said, all quiet casualness, as though they discussed the weather.

“I think you don’t know a thing about it, as a matter of fact.”

“Sparrow, that duke has had you since the moment you met. And you’ve had him. And neither years apart nor a divorce will change the way he looks at you. Or the way you don’t look at him.”