The Day of the Duchess (Scandal & Scoundrel 3)

He was through with schemes. He was ready to have his wife returned. He was ready to win her in earnest. And that required being alone with her, dammit. He needed time and space and honesty to make her believe him. To make her believe in him. In them.

These women were simply in the way. There was no doubt that, of the original quartet of unmarried females he’d summoned to convince her he was interested in another wife, Lady Lilith and Lady Felicity were best suited to him. Lilith was clever and droll, with a passion for travel, and Felicity had a brain in her head and would make any intelligent aristocrat a decent companion. But Haven did not want a decent companion. He wanted his wife. The woman he’d wanted from the moment he’d met her on that balcony a lifetime ago. And that was simply the way it was.

And yet, he could not be rid of them—not without it becoming clear that the entire contrivance had been just that, an unsavory ruse that would anger half of London’s aristocracy and incur his wife’s wrath in the balance when she realized the intentions behind it, or lack thereof, as he had no intention of giving her the divorce she so publicly desired.

A divorce she would soon see she did not want, if only he could prove to her that their past had nothing to do with their future.

And so, the only thing he could do when he received Seraphina’s note about his companions for the morning ride was to reply, insisting that she act as chaperone.

He hadn’t for a moment thought she would agree. Indeed, he’d expected to have to fetch her—an eventuality that had his heart racing with anticipatory pleasure—which was likely why she did not argue with his insistence.

When she exited the manor house at five minutes to eleven, clad in a beautiful aubergine riding habit, hat perched jauntily on her head and—Lord save him—riding crop in hand, he lost his breath at the portrait she made, strong and powerful, as though the night before had not happened, or, rather, as though the night before had imbued her with even more purpose.

He could see the determination in her beautiful blue gaze, and he instantly realized that purpose; she wanted him matched. And soon.

He resisted the urge to laugh at the fruitless plan.

And then the laugh was gone, because her trio of companions arrived, despite their not being invited. Of course. Seraphina came armed to the teeth, with her private battalion of warrior women. Minus one, because Sophie, the Marchioness of Eversley, was increasing and, therefore, did not ride.

Thank goodness for small favors.

He refused to show his frustration, instead turning his back on the band of sisters, moving to help first Lady Lilith and Lady Felicity into their saddles. Neither seemed to require his assistance, both clearly excellent horsewomen, and it occurred to him that he might have one day enjoyed a ride with them.

Instead, he dreaded what was to come.

After assisting his guests, he turned to help his wife, who had—of course—already found her seat. He did not miss the fact that she’d chosen one of his most prized mares—a mount he’d had saddled specifically for her.

He looked up to her, fingers itching to touch her, to slide beneath the hem of her habit and find the soft skin above her riding boots. “Your American guard dog does not join you today?”

She raised a brow and cut him a look. “Mr. Calhoun has returned to London for good,” she said. “I can only assume he did so at your insistence.”

Surprise flared, followed by quick relief that his wife’s protector had disappeared. “As a matter of fact, I had nothing to do with it, though God knows I am grateful for it.”

“Damn coward,” Sesily interjected, and everyone turned to face her. “What? He is.”

Haven ignored his mad sister-in-law and headed for his horse, taking his seat. “We are headed to the eastern folly.”

“Isn’t that what people call your marriage, Sera?” one of her sisters said dryly, snickers following the question.

Sera replied dryly, “Not to worry, my ladies—Haven will almost certainly prefer a marriage to you than he did to me, and I imagine he shall be quite the husband.”

Malcolm’s teeth clenched at the words that came so easily when last night he had laid himself bare for her and she had come apart in his arms. In frustration, he spurred his horse forward, the group following behind, far enough away for him to avoid hearing them. He’d take the women out for their ride, return them, and then find a way to get the girls gone.

After a half an hour of riding, he slowed at the great stone folly on the far eastern edge of the estate—a medieval tower that had been built several generations earlier. Dismounting, he moved to help the ladies down from their respective horses. Not Sera, however. Sera dismounted on her own, moving quickly away from the group, pulling her sisters with her as though they followed on strings.

Leaving him alone with Lady Lilith and Lady Felicity, both with handsome color high on their cheeks, the result of the ride. It occurred that they might be considered pretty if he cared to notice, which he didn’t. He was too busy watching his wife.

Nevertheless, he was not a monster, nor was he interested in navigating the gauntlet of his sisters-in-law, and so he guided the remaining suitesses to the entrance of the folly, indicating they should enter. When they did, he pointed to the winding stone staircase that led up the tower. “There is a remarkable view of the entire estate at the top if you do not mind the climb.”

Lady Lilith was already headed up the steps, and Lady Felicity followed quickly, Haven trailing behind. When they reached the top of the tower, coming out into the sunlight, both headed immediately for the stone parapets to lean out and survey the land that stretched in miles in every direction.

Haven took to the far edge of the tower, looking over the side to find Sera and her sisters below, deep in conversation. He stood, watching them, wishing he could hear their words as his companions narrated the view, largely to each other.

“Cor, this is beautiful,” Lady Felicity said after a long sigh.

“The best bit of the whole house party, don’t you think?” Lilith replied, excitement in her voice.

“It was built in the 1750s,” he interjected, telling himself that if he was participating in the girls’ conversation, he was not pining like a simpering boy after his wife three stories down. “A gift from my great-grandfather to the woman he loved.”

Lilith turned. “Not your great-grandmother, I’m guessing?”

He smirked humorlessly at that. “No.”

The Dukes of Haven did not marry for love.

Not until him.

And even then, he’d mucked it up.

The ladies had returned to looking at the estate. “There’s a dower house! Did you know there was a dower house?”

“I didn’t! And look at the lake. It’s beautiful.” A pause. “Goodness, is that a statue at the center of it? How curious! Simply rising up out of the water! Is it Orion, Your Grace?” Felicity Faircloth looked to him for an answer.

Malcolm ignored the pang of disappointment that these women had discovered the statue that marked the underwater ballroom before Sera had. His gaze tracked to his wife far below, and he answered the question. “It is.”

If I vowed to always hunt you, would you take flight?

She had taken flight last night and did so still, far below, earthbound, looking as though she might do it in earnest at any moment—turn into a dove and leave him, forever.

What if she did not want him? What if he could never have her?

He hated the questions that came with the harsh memory of the night before, when she’d lingered on the past, invoking without words the child that they had lost. The history they had never been able to make.

They could make a future, though. He believed it.

They had a chance, did they not?

Please, let them have a chance.

She looked up then, as if she had heard the unspoken thought from three stories below. He met her gaze and held it, unwilling to let her go.

She looked a

way.

Lady Felicity pointed to a manor in the distance. “And what’s that over there?”

He looked up from his wife and followed her line of sight. “It’s the seat of the Dukedom of Montcliff.”

Felicity nodded. “I’ve never liked that man.”

His brows rose at her frank assessment of his reclusive neighbor. “No, not many do.”

“Not many people like you, either,” Lilith said.

The honest words startled him, and he turned to face the girls—Lilith, with a knowing smirk on her lips, and Felicity, wide-eyed in what could only be described as joyous shock. He let silence reign for a moment before dipping his head. “That, too, is true.”

“Why?” Felicity asked.

“Are you two banding together?” They looked to each other and shared a grin, and Haven decided that he liked them. “Is this the bit where I am put on trial?”

“It’s a fair question, don’t you think?” Lilith pointed out. “We should know precisely what sort of fish we are buying.”

“If we wish to have fish at all.”

Ignoring the odd metaphor, Haven spread his hands wide. “By all means, then. Ask away.”

He’d never seen such glee. Lady Lilith actually rubbed her hands together.

Felicity lifted herself up to sit on the low stone wall, in the space between the parapets, then leaned forward with her elbows on her thighs, posture to the wind, as though they’d been friends for a lifetime. “They say you’re a terrible husband.”

He lifted his chin at the shocking statement.

“Good Lord, Felicity,” Lilith said, low and full of wonder. “Your mother would perish on the spot if she heard that.”

“My mother doesn’t have to marry him,” Felicity said, not looking away from Malcolm.

“It seems we’re jumping right in,” Lilith said, dryly.

No one would ever say Felicity Faircloth was not a worthy opponent. He leaned back against the parapet and confessed, the words coming shockingly easy. “I have not been the best of husbands.”

“They say you are unfaithful.” His lips flattened into a long, thin line, but he did not scare away this young brave woman. Instead, Felicity Faircloth continued. “And that’s why Lady Eversley knocked you into a fishpond.”

“They are correct.” Lilith’s nose wrinkled, and he could not blame her. “It was once. I had just discovered that Sera . . .” He trailed off. It was not their business. “I was angry. I have never done it again.”

They were silent for a very long time, and Lilith said, “You know, I think I believe him.”

Felicity nodded. “As do I, strangely.”

Miraculous. Now if only they could convince Seraphina to do the same.

Felicity pressed on. “Shall I tell you what I like about your wife?”

He did not need to hear a list of Sera’s qualities. He knew them well. He had listed them more than once. More than a thousand times. And still, he wanted to hear them. He wanted to speak of her with another, as though invoking her here could summon her close. “I do not imagine I could stop you, my lady.”

She grinned. “That is likely true. I’m terrible at keeping quiet. It’s why my mother was so thrilled to receive your invitation. You are her last great hope.”

“I’ve no interest in being coddled,” he said. “Dukes get too much of that as it is.”

Felicity nodded. “Very well, I shall tell you. I like that Seraphina knows what she wants. And I like that she is not afraid to pursue it. Even when it is most definitely not done.”

Divorce was that. He nodded. “She’s always been that way.”

“Women are not always able to have what we want,” she said, and there was a wistful quality in her tone. “We are too often judged for pursuit.”

The words sent a chill through him. He had done that. He had punished her for pursuit. And then, finally, he had punished her for refusing to pursue him.

“Did she pursue you?” Lilith, this time.

“She did,” he said, hating the fist that caught hold of him at the words. The way it twisted in his gut.

“They say she caught you unawares. Hoodwinked Haven and all that.”

These women lacked fear, and Haven could not help but admire that. “That is what they say.”

“But it couldn’t have been for the title,” Felicity pointed out. “Else why flee? Why not stay and flaunt it?”

How often had he asked himself the same question?

“For all that pursuit, she does not seem to like you very much any longer, Your Grace,” Lilith added.

“No, she does not,” he said. That much was clear to everyone.

“I like that about her,” Felicity said quietly. “I like that when it became clear you did not want her, she did not stay.”

Except he had wanted her.

He still wanted her.

Not that he had ever told her as much. Instead, he’d shamed her for her passion. For standing on her own. For reaching for what she wanted. He’d kept it from her. From them both.

“I like that she knows herself. That she believes in herself. That she did not allow herself to be less than what she deserved,” Felicity added. “I should like to be more like her than not.”

“Then perhaps you ought not marry the Duke of Haven,” Lilith said, all dryness. “History would suggest he is not the most accommodating of men when it comes to helping his wife reach her goals.”

The words were not meant for him at all. And still they stung like nettles. “Mmm,” Felicity said, thoughtfully. “I think that might be the case.”

Christ. Why did it take two unmarried women to teach him what he should have seen years ago?

“And that’s before the other problem,” Lilith continued, returning Mal to the moment.

“What other problem?” he asked, the question more forceful than he planned.

The women continued, as though he was not there. As though they were still discussing the estate. Or the weather. And not his personal flaws. “Oh, certainly, that bit is clear as crystal.”

“What bit?” he demanded.

Lilith turned to him, considering him for a long moment. “As this entire scenario is uncommon in the extreme, Your Grace, I wonder if you might find yourself willing to answer a rather—inappropriate—question?”

He could not help the shock that played across his face. “More inappropriate than the rest of this conversation?”

Both ladies laughed, and Lilith smiled. “Likely not, as a matter of fact.” He waited for her to find the proper words. “Do you wish a new wife?”

And there it was, his exit from this debacle. “I do not, as a matter of fact.”

She nodded and looked to Felicity. “Well, that’s that, then.”

“Indeed.” Felicity hopped down from her seat on the parapet. “Thank you very much, Your Grace. This is a lovely folly. The best I’ve seen.”

“And estate,” Lilith leapt to add, politely. “That statue of Orion in the lake is particularly beautiful.”

Confusion flared, and not a small bit of hope. Were all women everywhere so unsettling? Or was it specific to the women with whom he came into contact?

“Are you leaving?” he asked, fairly agog.

“We are,” Felicity said, dipping a quick curtsy. “I’m sure you understand.”

“I don’t, as a matter of fact,” he pointed out. “I’ve never in my life met women so willing to speak such truth.”

Lilith smirked. “Perhaps you should meet more women. We are not so very uncommon.”

“Certainly not here. There are five other women on this estate who also seem to have no trouble speaking truth to you, Your Grace,” Felicity said. “And that’s not counting Miss Mary Mayhew, who spoke such truth it ended in her going off to find Gerald.”

Lilith smiled. “I wonder what sort of man Gerald is?”

And like that, he was dismissed, the two leaving in happy conversation, skirts brushing softly against the stone fl

oor as they made their way for the stairs. “Wait,” he called, the entire afternoon seeming to slip away from him.

They turned back. “No need to worry, Your Grace,” Lilith said. “We shall see ourselves off. You stay here and do whatever it is men do when they are not required to play the willing suitor.”

“You did not tell me the other problem.” They turned back, curious twin smiles on their vastly different faces. He clarified. “The one that is clear as crystal.”

“Ah,” Lilith said.

“Hmm,” Felicity added.

“Ladies.” The word came out more threatening than he intended. “I imagine it’s something like the fact that I’m a terrible husband?”

“You know, I’m not sure you would be a terrible husband at all,” Lilith said thoughtfully.

“Oh, no. He shan’t be,” Felicity rushed to reply. “I mean, not as soon as he discovers how much he loves her.”

He could have been ashamed. He could have been defensive. But instead, Felicity’s words, filled with truth, made him relieved. Finally, he thought. Finally someone saw it. Someone who believed it. Two someones. Two someones, who listened when he said, “I know how much I love her. I’ve known it for years.”

They looked at each other, then to him, their judgment plain. They thought him an imbecile. “You should tell her, then.”

Frustration flared. Did they honestly believe he did not wish to do just that? Did they believe it was so simple?

A flash of color came behind them, a deep, rich aubergine.

Sera.

Dammit, he would do it right now if he thought it would change things.

He stilled. Would it change things?

His heart began to pound as she came through the doorway, interest in her eyes and curiosity on her face. “This is a lovely folly,” she said.

He would do it now. Here, in this place that his ancestor had built for a woman loved beyond reason. He would do it in front of these women, and finish this idiot scheme. Had he not told himself this morning that he was through with schemes?

Awareness and pleasure and excitement and desire pulled the words from him, as though he was a too-eager schoolboy. “I shall do it now.”