The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel #3)(79)

He shook his head at the sister-in-law who was armed. “You realize that throwing rocks is unsafe.”

Seline tossed her current stone up in the air and caught it. “Not for me,” she said. “I’ve a good arm.”

He shook his head. “You’re mad.”

“No, I’m loyal. Which is a thing you have never been.”

An instinctual denial caught in his throat as the Countess Clare called from her place, “And amen to that! Hit him in the head this time!”

For a moment, he wondered if Seline might actually do it. He spread his hands wide. “You’re all mad. And I’m going after your sister.”

“Not yet, you’re not.” Seleste came to stand next to her armed sister. “It seems to me that you’ve made her quite unhappy. Unhappy enough that she does not wish to see you.”

“He told her he loved her!” Sesily announced from her place far above, her tone the same one might use if one were discussing finding a rat in a drain somewhere on the estate.

All the other women grimaced. “You deserve another rock for that,” Seline pointed out. “And four more for the young women you’ve been dancing about while you tried to woo our sister back.”

“It’s no trouble, Duke!” Lady Lilith called down.

“Of course it is trouble! You’re only for market for so long!” Sesily said. “And now the two of you have been passed over by Haven.”

“Which isn’t exactly the worst thing in the world,” Seleste pointed out. “As he’s dreadful.”

“And about to get a rock to the head,” Seline added.

Malcolm gritted his teeth. “I love your sister,” he said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said it, though God knows why not, because it’s the truth. And I’m damned if I’m going to let you harridans keep me from telling her properly.”

“Ha! You do realize this means I win, do you not?” Sesily crowed from where she leaned over the tower wall. It occurred to Mal that she might have been leaning too far over the tower wall, as a matter of fact, but he found he could not find the energy or the inclination to tell her to be careful.

“We know, Sesily.”

“Ten pounds each!” she called down. “Sophie is going to be livid.”

“There was a wager?” Felicity asked.

“Of course! There are always wagers. You should see us in season!” Sesily paused, then turned to Lilith and Felicity. “You shall see us in season, soon enough! Our betting book rivals White’s! And it’s much more interesting.”

“I’m happy that you are all finding friendship and funds while keeping me from my wife, but I’m through with this now.” He looked to Seline. “I trust you won’t knock me unconscious on my way to fetch your sister.”

“I shan’t,” Seline allowed, “because if you use the word fetch with her, Duke, she’s going to knock you unconscious herself. She doesn’t want you, no matter how much blunt Sesily’s won.” Seleste’s words were cool and unemotional, and unsettling with the way they rained truth down around them. “You ruined everything years ago, when you refused to acknowledge she existed beyond you.”

He stilled at that. “I never refused that.”

“Oh?” called Sesily from far above. “We must have missed all the times you came to luncheon and tea.”

“And the time you asked our father for her hand,” Seleste said.

“And the times you made your courtship public,” Sesily added. “And here we were, thinking you were ashamed of your toy.”

Blood roared in his ears. “She was never my toy.” But Sera’s words echoed through him. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You never have.

Christ. What had he done?

He looked to his wife’s sisters. “I only ever loved her.”

“But not all of her,” Seleste said.

“Not enough,” Seline added.

In another lifetime, Malcolm would have argued the point. He would have let his anger and frustration get the better of him. Instead, in that moment, he looked from one of her sisters to the next, and the next, and then said, firmly, “I love her. All of her. Duchess or Dove. With or without you harridans.”

Seline watched him for an uncomfortable length of time before tossing her stone to the ground. “By all means, then. Go convince her of it.”

Malcolm did not miss the meaning in the words, the clear disbelief that he would succeed at convincing his wife of anything of the sort.

And still, he’d taken to the saddle, and followed her at breakneck speed, his heart racing as he realized the direction in which she headed, desperate to get to her before she discovered—

She was off her horse and headed for the little circle of trees that marked the center of the northern edge of the property, and he was shouting her name on the wind, driving his own mount forward as she faced him, her shoulders stiffening, her spine straightening. She stilled, waiting for him, the summer breeze taking her skirts in long, languid movement even as she remained frozen in the lush green grass.

His horse thundered toward her, and she did not move, remaining in perfect pause, as though a thousand pounds of horseflesh weren’t bearing down upon her. Fear crashed through him as he pulled hard on the reins, the horse stopping mere feet from her as though she’d stayed it with mere force of will.