“Knowing I ruined your boots does help matters along.”
“I see you are as charming as ever,” he said dryly, lifting the animal in his arms. “And with significantly more cats.”
The cat protested with a mighty yowl.
So much for the feline gods.
Sesily reached for the animal. “Only a monster would punish a cat for an unavoidable owner infraction.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he said, “I’m not punishing the damn cat. If you take him from me, I shall find you a handkerchief.”
“No. No one is taking the cat. The cat is going back into his basket until Sesily has a room.” Sera stepped down from the carriage, basket in hand, heading directly for them. “And a bath.”
With that, the other women seemed to fade away, dwarfed and diminished by Seraphina, tall and beautiful, blue eyes clear and calm even as he knew she must be thinking about all the same things he thought about in this place. She looked utter perfection, even with the perspiration that coated the bridge of her nose and the wide expanse of skin above the bodice of her dress.
Not that he was noticing the skin there. The slope of her breasts.
He was simply noticing that the carriage must have been warm, what with the way her flushed skin rose and fell. Straining against the heather-grey fabric of the frock. It was nearly too tight for her. Perhaps she should take it off.
For her own comfort.
He cleared his throat.
“Your Grace.”
Haven swallowed sharply, his gaze immediately snapping to hers. She appeared to be waiting for him to act. Had she said something? He opened his mouth, willing words to come. What came was, “Er.”
Which was not a word at all.
One perfect black brow rose.
He cleared his throat again, but refused to speak and thus make an additional fool of himself. Silence could not be criticized.
The youngest Talbot sister, Sophie, snickered from her place several feet away. She’d always been considered the quiet one. That was, until three years ago, when she’d planted him ass-deep in a fishpond and ruined his best boots. After that, she’d found a bastard of a husband and her own voice, which she did not hesitate to use in the moment. “Perhaps the cat has got his tongue?”
One side of Sera’s mouth twitched. “A woman can dream.”
His brows snapped together. “What do you want?”
Her red lips curved. “The cat, Haven.” She extended the open basket to him. “I want the cat.”
Of course she did. She’d said as much.
Miraculously, the animal accepted its imprisonment without argument, after which Haven extracted his handkerchief and offered it to Sesily, who took it without hesitation. It was only then, when silence fell in the span of a heartbeat or two, that Haven realized that his best laid plans had gone entirely to waste.
Sera seemed to notice it as well. “Where are they?”
He feigned ignorance. “Who?”
Her brow furrowed. “The girls, Haven. Where are my replacements?”
As though she could ever be replaced.
He ignored the thought. “It’s a good thing they aren’t here, considering we’re going to have to find four additional bedchambers for today’s unexpected guests. How long are they staying?”
“Where is your brotherly love, Duke?” the one married to Earl Clare asked.
He ignored the question. “How long, Seraphina?”
She smiled, all serenity, and patted his cheek. “There are thirty bedchambers in this monstrosity of a house,” she scoffed. “I think you’ll be able to find space for family.”
“Monstrosity?”
“No one requires a home this large.” The words were full of distraction as she looked to a massive old tree, heavy with summer. A single crow sat on a low-hanging branch, and it seemed Sera was watching the black bird.
“There was a time when you liked it,” he said.
She looked back to him then and said, softly, “No longer.”
Of course she didn’t. He was an ass for making her come here. For making her remember all they’d lost.
She continued, unaware of the riot of his thoughts. “Are you saying you haven’t the room?”
“Of course we’ve the room.” He turned and began to climb the stairs, suddenly keenly aware that the last time Sera had been here, she’d left him. And he’d deserved it. He resisted the urge to turn back and take hold of her. To prevent a repeat of the events of the past.
“Where are they?” Sera repeated her question. She followed him into the main entryway, flanked by her sisters—each wilder and stronger than the next—and his plans for the evening were suddenly outrageous. Misguided. Impossible. “Why did you summon me here with such insistence?”
What if he told her the truth?
“Are they even here?”
What if he told her he’d expected her to come alone?
“Haven?”
What if he told her he had planned to win her back?
“And why aren’t there any staff about?” He turned to face her, prepared to tell her the truth, but when he met her wide eyes, he saw that she already knew the truth. “Where is the staff?”
“I gave them the afternoon off,” he said, injecting the words with enough ducal force to inhibit any further questions.
He failed to remember that the Talbot sisters had never been intimidated by ducal force. Five pairs of knowing eyes bored into him, seeming to lay him bare.
“Why?” Lady Sesily said, handkerchief still at her lips.
Malcolm ignored the question and looked away to the crow on the tree, now no longer alone. There were still black birds there, seeming to watch him in return. He straightened his shoulders, channeled his ducal line, and, focused, returned his attention to Seraphina.
Mistake.
His wife’s gaze was narrow and knowing. “Where are the girls?” It was her tone that brooked no refusal in the end, however, all duchess, ironically.
“They arrive in three days.” The house was prepared, every bed made, every meal planned.
She nodded, and he could see the question in her eyes, the one she held back. Why are we alone?
He wondered for a moment what she might say if he responded honestly. If he told her the truth that they all seemed to suspect already. If he said, Because I wanted you alone. Because I wanted to undo it all.
It seemed a ridiculous plan now.
And so, instead, he found his reply in the moment, a fabrication that, once spoken aloud, thankfully seemed legitimate. “Our agreement was that you would play hostess and matchmaker, no? With that in mind, should you not be here in advance? To do whatever it is hostesses and matchmakers do?”
Malcolm was proud of the dismissive tone he somehow mustered, a tone that seemed to grate upon his sisters-in-law even as his wife remained unmoved.
“This is madness, Haven, you understand that, do you not?” Sesily said.
“Having her here will only set the other girls on edge,” the Marchioness of Eversley spoke.