The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(64)

The question unstuck him. He approached, sitting next to her on the stone steps, as though he were not in a dinner jacket. As though she were not in silk. “I do not.” He watched her moonlit profile. “You shall have to share.”

She looked down the glass dangling from her long, graceful fingers, then passed it to him. “Keep it.”

He drank, unable to hold back the thread of pleasure that came with the familiarity of the moment. “I did not think I would find you alone.”

She looked to him for an instant, then away, returning her attention to the dark grounds beyond. “I did not think you would come looking for me.”

“Or you would have summoned your American to protect you?”

She gave a little laugh, lacking humor. “My American is on his way to London.”

No doubt to care for his tavern. Caleb Calhoun was many things, but he was not a bad businessman. “He should stay there.”

She was silent for so long that he did not think she would reply. But she did. “He thinks I am unable to manage here.”

His brows rose. “Manage what?”

“You, I imagine.”

“Do I require managing?”

She huffed a little laugh at that. “I would never dream of trying, honestly.”

“I think you could, without much difficulty.”

She watched the darkness for a long stretch, then said, “Caleb is willing to play the lover for the divorce petition,” she added.

Later, he would hate himself for saying, “He is a good friend,” instead of saying, There won’t be a divorce.

“He is,” she replied. “He’s willing to do a great deal for my happiness.”

“He is not alone.” She looked to him then, meeting his eyes, searching for something. Finally, she looked away. “What do you want, Your Grace?”

He wanted so much, and so well that he shocked himself with his answer. “I want you not to call me Your Grace.”

She turned at that, her blue eyes grey in the darkness. “You remain a duke, do you not?”

“You never treated me as one.”

One side of her mouth rose in a little smile. “Silly Haven. Didn’t you leave me because I knew your title too well?”

He hated the words. Hated that even in this quiet, private darkness, they were cloaked in the past. But most of all, he hated the truth in them. He had left her because he’d thought she cared for his dukedom more than she cared for him.

By the time he’d discovered that it mattered not a bit why she’d landed him—only that she’d landed him at all—she’d been gone.

And with her, his future.

She finally spoke, as though she’d heard his thoughts. “I didn’t intend to trap you, you know. Not at the start.” She took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. “That is the truth, if it matters.”

He set his glass down and took up the lantern as he stood, reaching one hand down to her. “Come.”

Her reply was as wary as the look she slid his hand. “Where?”

“For a walk.”

“It’s the dead of night.”

“It’s ten o’clock.”

“It’s the country,” she retorted. “If it’s night, it’s the dead of it.”

He laughed at that. “I thought you liked the country.”

“The city has its benefits. I like to be able to see the things that might kill me in the dark,” she said with dry certainty.

He remembered this, the way it felt to banter with her. As though there’d never been a man and woman so well matched. “Is there something you fear sneaking up on us in the dark?”

“There could be anything.”

“For example?”

“Bears.”

His brow furrowed. “You spent too much time in America if you think bears are coming for you.”

“It could happen.”

He sighed. “No. It really couldn’t. Not in Essex. Name one thing that might kill you in the dark in Essex.”

“An angry fox.”

The reply came so quick, he could not help his laugh. “I think you’re safe. We haven’t had a foxhunt in several years.”

“That doesn’t mean the foxes aren’t seeking revenge for their ancestors.”

“The foxes are too fat with grouse to muster much anger. And if they do come for you, Sera, I vow to protect you.”

“Your vows have not held much promise in the past,” she said, and he heard the way she tried to avoid the end of the sentence, as though she hadn’t wanted to say it any more than he’d wanted to hear it.

Of course, he deserved to hear it. He ignored the sting of the words and faced them head-on. “Tonight, I turn over a new leaf.” He extended his hand to her again, and she considered it for a stretch before she sighed, collected her bottle, and stood, coming to her full, magnificent height.

He lowered the hand she did not take.

“I’m not wearing proper footwear.”

“I was not planning on giving you a tour of the bogs,” he said, descending the steps. “Do not worry. I shall protect you from nefarious creatures.”

“Who will protect me from you?” she asked smartly before adding, “And where are you taking me?”