The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(59)

Haven was immediately suspicious. “What does she win?”

Sera lifted one shoulder and dropped it.

“No,” he said, and suddenly it felt as though they were alone in the gardens. “No shrugging. What does she win?”

“Well, if the sisters win, the one who gets closest to the kitty gets to return to London,” Sera said.

“Won’t she be lonely? Best send the whole lot home with her.” She scowled, and he added, “And what of the suitesses winning?”

“A private excursion.”

“With whom?”

“With you, of course.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Mayhew spoke for all the mothers and, by the look on his face, for Haven as well.

Sera thought she would get more pleasure from his shock. She lowered her voice. “You wish a wife, Your Grace. This is how you get one.”

He watched her for a long moment, and then said, “You’re wearing lavender.”

The change of topic threw her. “I am.” The words came out more like a question, as though she did not have eyes in her head and a grasp of the color spectrum.

“Yesterday was amethyst. The day before, a grey like heather in winter.”

She went cold. “I like purple.”

He shook his head, his eyes dark with secrets. She knew it, because hers held the same. “No, I don’t think so.”

She didn’t want to discuss it. Not then. Not as they stood there with what seemed like half the women in London watching.

She didn’t want to discuss it. Ever. And she hated him for pointing out her clothing. Purples and greys. The colors of mourning.

Malcolm said no more, turning to face the girls at the other end of the field, and Sera had the distinct impression that this was what men looked like marching into battle. “Then I think I should stay at this end, and make sure you are impartial.”

She forced a smile. “Afraid I’ll rig the contest to keep my sisters?”

He lowered his voice. “Afraid you’ll rig the contest to get rid of me.”

She stilled. That was the point, was it not?

She’d been too lax with the girls and with him. He had to find a wife. One of these women was going to take her place. And Sera would restore her own freedom. She would get her tavern and her future and walk away from this place and this man and all the memories they wrought. She looked to him. “Haven,” she said. “You must see—”

He cut her off, turning away. “Mrs. Mayhew. I see something must be irksome if you have come out into the sun.”

“As a matter of fact it is,” said the irritated woman. “Your Grace! I must object! These—” She waved a hand at Sera’s sisters. “Women—I suppose one must call them—they are terrible influences. You’ve been positively invisible for nearly a fortnight and—frankly—this is all seeming like a terrible waste of time.”

“Mother.” Mary was in the mix now, calling from her place with the other unmarried women.

“I suppose I should take my shot,” Lady Lilith said.

She hefted the ball high as Mrs. Mayhew pushed on. “My husband is quite powerful and Mary is quite in demand. We’ve passed up numerous invitations to other parties with other eligible men who—you’ll have to admit—are far more eligible considering your circumstances.”

Sera had to admit, Mrs. Mayhew was an excellent mother. She knew what bull she wished for her daughter and was not willing to stand by when she might seize it by the horns.

It was difficult not to see echoes of her own mother in the woman.

And, in those echoes, hints of what would either be a great success or an unmitigated failure.

“Mrs. Mayhew,” said Haven, “I think perhaps—”

“Mother, please!” Mary was marching across the field.

Mrs. Mayhew was having none of it. “I should think it would not be out of line for you to find time to walk with my daughter, so you might know her beyond her enormous dowry!”

The woman was impressive. And Sera would be lying if she said she did not enjoy Haven looking so hunted.

“Are you out of your mind?” Quiet Mary was quiet no more. Indeed, it seemed the apple did not fall far from the impressive tree.

Haven was in a bind. And, instinctively, he attempted to reverse any embarrassment that the elder Mayhew might have caused the younger. “I assure you, Miss Mayhew, your dowry is of no consequence.”

Mary paid Haven little attention. “Mother! You cannot simply rage at a duke and hope it ends in the marriage you want for me!”

“Not just a marriage I wish for you, darling, a marriage you wish for yourself!”

The other mothers had stopped both fanning themselves and pretending not to watch. All three of the aristocratic ladies were watching with wide eyes and open mouths. Caleb, for his part, was feeding a piece of roast goose to one of the dogs.

“Oi! Out of the way!” called Sesily. “Lilith is throwing!”

“Tossing!” Seline interjected.

“Ladies, may I suggest we remove this conversation to inside?” Sera asked, attempting for calm. “Or at least away from the assembled audience?”

Sera heard Sophie’s “Oh, no,” in concert with Seline’s “Look out!” and turned just in time to see the ball careening toward them. She leapt out of its path, but Mrs. Mayhew was not so lucky. The ball crashed into her foot and ricocheted toward the kitty as she cried out in pain and nearly toppled over on top of Haven.