The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(60)

“I am so sorry!” Lady Lilith cried from her place at the end of the field.

“Nonsense! ’Twas an excellent shot! Look how close you got it!”

“She hit a woman, Seline,” Sophie pointed out.

“Oh, it’s not like she didn’t deserve it. I wish we could hit every woman who behaves so abominably. Lady Lilith, is it possible your services are for rent?”

Haven choked—Sera looked to him. “Are you laughing?”

He shook his head and coughed. Too obviously. He was laughing.

Sera reached for the hobbled woman, doubled over in obvious pain and embarrassment. “Oh, my,” she said, unable to keep the surprised laughter from the words as she made to help. “Mrs. Mayhew, are you quite—”

The woman snapped to her feet. “Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “You’re the scandal here. We should have known you’d bring it down upon all of us. You should have stayed in America and left your poor husband to his future. With a decent woman. One with grace and honor and fidelity.”

Silence fell as the last word came, a sharp and angry attack, and Sera could not resist the impulse to look to Malcolm, wondering if he, too, felt the shame she did. Hating what she had brought down upon them all. Her sisters, the girls, and him—him most of all.

Except it was not shame she saw in his eyes, nor even a hint of the laughter that had been there before. It was rage. It was protection. It was loyalty.

For her.

And, before she could steel herself from it, before she could keep herself from feeling it, pleasure and pride and something much much more terrifying threaded through Sera. Something with an echo of memory she had sworn not to resurrect.

The memory of the Malcolm she’d loved.

But before he could give his fury voice, Miss Mary spoke, her own ire given free rein. “I should like it noted that you ruined this, Mother,” she said, raising her voice and one long finger to her mother’s nose. “I was willing to play your silly game and come here and vie for this man’s title because I’ve always done what you and Father think I should. But these women are different and they are interesting and they are brave and so I think I should be as well. I’m not marrying the duke—though I cannot imagine I was in the running, as I cannot imagine why a man such as he would tie himself to a mother-in-law such as you. I am going home. To marry Gerald.”

Sera’s eyes went wide. “Gerald?”

“Who’s Gerald?” This from Felicity Faircloth.

“Felicity! We don’t interject into others’ personal business!” The Marchioness of Bumble found her maternal voice.

“I’ve never understood that rule, you know,” Lady Lilith said to her friend. “I mean, this personal business is very public, isn’t it?”

Mary ignored the other girls, instead turning to Sera. “I am sorry. I should never have come here. I’ve a love at home. Gerald. He’s wonderful.”

Sera could not contain her smile. This girl had such a voice. It was remarkable. “I imagine he is if he’s won you.”

“He’s a solicitor!” Mrs. Mayhew cried.

“So was Father before he was in Parliament!” Mary pointed out.

Mrs. Mayhew began to mottle. “But now . . . you could have a duke!”

“But I don’t want a duke.” She smiled at Malcolm then. “Apologies, Your Grace.”

Mal shook his head. “No offense taken.”

“I’m sure you won’t understand, but I don’t care that you are a duke. And I don’t care that he is a solicitor. I’d have him however he came.”

Malcolm’s gaze flickered past Mary to Sera. “Rat catcher.”

Sera stopped breathing.

Mary smiled. “You understand.”

“I do, rather,” he said, and still he watched Sera, seeming to understand how she struggled with the echo of their past. When he finally looked back to Mary, he said, “I am sorry we did not get more of a chance to talk.”

The young woman smiled. “I think you would not have liked me, anyway.”

“There, you are wrong, Miss Mayhew. I shall watch the papers for the announcement of your marriage. And in exchange for you removing your mother from my land, I shall send you and Gerald a very generous gift to celebrate your marriage.”

Dipping her head to hide her smile, Mary dropped into a little curtsy. “That seems like an excellent arrangement. With apologies, Your Grace.”

It did not escape Sera that that particular Your Grace was not directed at Haven, but at her.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” Sera said, eager to forget the scrape of truth in Mrs. Mayhew’s words. To put the whole event behind them.

“There is everything to apologize for,” Haven said, cold fury deepening his voice to a tenor that Sera knew all too well. She saw the fear spread across Mrs. Mayhew’s face. “No one speaks to my wife the way you did, Mrs. Mayhew. You will leave this house, and you will never return. Make no mistake, you are never welcome under Haven roof again.” The woman went white as a sheet as he finished. “There was a time when I would have set out to ruin you. I would have fought for vengeance. You should get into your carriage and thank God that time is passed, and that I find I rather enjoy the company of your daughter.”