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

Sesily gasped. “You planned to sneak off to London? How exciting!”

Sera looked to the ceiling and asked her maker for patience. She’d planned for a clandestine night or two, just to check in on the Sparrow. “It’s not exciting, Sesily. It’s business.”

“You say that like it doesn’t sound exciting as well,” Sesily replied. “Which it does. It’s not every day a woman has a—”

“Stop.” Both Caleb and Sera cut Sesily off before she could say tavern, Sera looking to the door to be certain no one was close enough to hear. Malcolm was in the foyer beyond, and he met her gaze, but the fury in his eyes likely had more to do with the clamoring gaggle of mothers objecting to the entire morning, and no doubt a great deal more. Like Sera, in general.

He hadn’t heard, which was all that mattered. If he knew what she had, he would have altogether too much power over her.

As though he did not have enough of it as her husband.

“The point is,” Caleb went on, “you must stay here.”

She blinked. “Why?”

Sesily knew when she was not required. “I shall go fetch something for the American’s eye.”

“I’ve a name, you know.”

Sesily winked. “But ‘the American’ sounds so much more ominous, don’t you think?”

“Go,” Sera said.

Sesily did and Caleb said, “That one is trouble.”

“I shall be far more trouble if you don’t tell me what is going on.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“If only men understood the rampant fear that particular quartet of words instilled in women’s hearts.” She whacked him in the arm. “Tell me.”

“Oof!” he groaned, clutching his shoulder and going pale.

“Now she’s hit him!” came a pearl-clutching gasp from the hallway beyond. “You must send her away, Your Grace. This is no place for a proper young lady!”

Sera ignored the words, overcome with concern for her friend. “Caleb. What’s happened to you?”

“It’s fine. It was a touch dislocated, but I found a decent butcher who put it back in. It’s just a bit tweaky right now.”

Her brows shot up. “Who dislocated you?”

“The Bastards.”

The Bareknuckle Bastards, the pair of brothers who ran the Covent Garden underground. Until now, they’d left Caleb and Sera alone, but it hadn’t been long since the Sparrow was up and running, and Caleb and Sera had expected their success would soon be noticed—and the Bastards wouldn’t like it. “Did something happen to the Sparrow?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed in a day or two.” She did not like the sound of that. “They wanted a trade. Money for protection. I told them I didn’t need protection from a bunch of redcoats.”

“And they set out to prove you wrong.”

He tried for another smile. “I got a few good punches in.”

She shook her head. “You’re a child.”

“We’re not paying them fear money.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Of course we’re not.”

“Excellent. Then consider this business meeting adjourned. You are staying here to get your divorce, and I shall take care of the rest.”

Frustration flared. If she hadn’t been forced to the country, she’d have been able to help in London. She’d have been able to protect the Sparrow. Ironically, she hadn’t been at the club to protect it from its enemies because she was too busy protecting it here. From a different enemy altogether.

If she lost it, she lost the only reason to have returned to Britain. All that she was fighting for. She was here for the Sparrow’s promise of freedom. For its future. And for hers. But there was no point in protecting the tavern in theory if she couldn’t protect it in practice. “Like hell. I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

She cut him a look. “Tell me. What, precisely, makes you believe you can tell me what to do?”

He sighed. “Certainly not history.”

“No,” she agreed. “Certainly not.”

“And if you do return, then what?”

“Something!” she insisted, frustration flaring. “The Sparrow isn’t anything without its namesake.”

“Bollocks,” Caleb said. “You stay here. I’ll take care of the Bastards. Hire security, make sure they see I won’t stand for them getting in our way. Don’t worry your pretty head about the bits and pieces.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I shall club you in your head if you continued to treat me as a precious dove. I’m coming back.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s mine,” she whispered. “Held in trust by you.”

“Until you get your divorce, which is why you’re here.”

“Which will mean nothing if I don’t have a tavern standing at the end of it.”

He looked to the ceiling and exhaled his frustration. “You want your nose in the business.”

She nodded. “Now, more than ever.”

“Fine. Then I shall spend days here.”

It was such a terrible idea she laughed. “No, you will not.”

“For once, we agree, wife.” Haven stepped into the room as though he owned it. Which she supposed he did. Irritating man.

“I’d thank you not to eavesdrop on my conversations,” she said.

“As we remain married, conversations you have with unmarried gentlemen are my business, pet.”

Men were insufferable. “Call me ‘pet’ again, and see what happens.”

He did not flinch. “What? You do to me what your American scoundrel had done to him?” He looked to Caleb. “Bad luck. I only wish I could have done it myself.”

“If it had been you, Duke, you’d be looking a fright, not me.”

Haven grinned at that. As though it was funny. “History would suggest otherwise, Yank.”

Sera paused. What did that mean?

It did not matter. “Haven, I must return to London.”

“No.” She imagined neither man much liked agreeing with the other.

She could not contain her groan of frustration. “Neither of you get a say in the decision.”

“We have a deal, Sera,” Haven said. “And that deal does not include sallying off to London with some American.”

“I’ll sally wherever and with whomever I like,” she retorted, suddenly incredibly irritated by everything. “You don’t own me.”

“But he does,” Caleb said.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Haven was set back on his heels as well. “I beg your pardon?”

Caleb’s gaze found hers, and she hated the meaning in it. “He does own you, Duchess. You’re his wife. He owns you, and all of your belongings. He owns your very future.”

The message was clear. To keep the Sparrow safe and hers, she had to stay here. She had to secure her divorce to secure her future.

She scowled at her friend. “You’re a damn traitor.”

“We do what we have to. Don’t worry, Duke. She’s not going back to London.” Sera swallowed back her urge to do additional damage to Caleb’s face, and he added, “And I’ll be spending some more time here, it seems. We shall all become fast friends, I’m sure.”