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

by Sarah MacLean

“Sera, Angel . . . I cannot . . .” He paused, breathed deep as she gentled, licking over him, tasting him. Thrumming with passion. “Love, I’ve waited too long. I want to be with you when it happens.” The words, honest and beautiful, stayed her, and she released him, raking her gaze over his strong, lean, beauty—drinking him in, willing herself to remember every inch of him. “I want to be with you, as well,” she whispered, coming up to her knees and kissing him long and deep. “I want every inch of you on every inch of me. Without hesitation. Without fear. Without sorrow.” “Yes.” He caught her to him, cupping her breasts, playing at the hard tips until she sighed and rocked against him, making him groan. “God, yes. Whatever you want.” Those words, again. So different from what he’d offered her long ago. So different from what she’d asked for. “I want you.” His hands came up, cradling her face, holding her still so he could watch her. “You have me.” So plain. So honest. So late.

“I want you mine. I want you forever. And, dammit, I have you. I’ve had you all along. I should never have hesitated. I should have given you everything. The title, the marriage, all of it. I wanted to. I want to, still. I want to go back and begin again.”

There was no beginning anew. They could not erase the past, and they could not change the future. They could not have the promise that had teased them. But she could close the door on it. And give them both a chance at something new. She could have the Sparrow, and the freedom that came with it. And he could have a family—one that loved him as much as he deserved. Tears pricked behind her eyes, and she had no choice but to tuck her face into his chest and hide from him. As ever, she hid from him. Because he had always been able to see her.

“Don’t love me, Mal. There is no future for us.”

“It was never real, Lady Felicity,” he said. “You were a ruse.” She nodded. “I know. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that you and the duchess were for each other and no one else.” “Anyone but the duchess could see it, I think you mean.” He could not keep the frustration from his tone. “I think she sees it, too, you know,” she said. “But far be it from me to get involved.” “You’re standing in my bedchamber holding my wife’s sister’s cat, so I think you are rather involved already,” he pointed out. She nodded, a smile playing over her lips. “That may well be true.” “As a matter of fact, I cannot think of a less appropriate location for you than in my bedchamber holding my wife’s sister’s cat.” The smile broadened. “Are you planning to debauch me in some way?” “I am not.” “Well then I think I am perfectly safe. Also, the cat seems to dislike you.” Mal looked to the white animal, who appeared perfectly content in Felicity Faircloth’s arms. “I thought we’d reached a détente, honestly.” The cat yowled. “Oh, yes, it seems so.” She paused. “The point is, I think my person is quite safe with you.” “There was a time when I would have been disappointed with that assessment.” Felicity smirked. “I imagine you were younger then. And less besotted with your wife, which puts a considerable damper on a man’s dangerousness.” “Definitely younger, likely not at all less besotted with my wife.” “That seems to be a problem for you.” “Considering I regularly lose her, I would have to ag...

“She wants you to seduce me.” She blinked. “Well, I don’t wish to.” “Which works out well, as I have no intention of being seduced by anyone but my wife.” Just as soon as he stopped being infuriated by her. Felicity nodded. “That sounds eminently reasonable. Though, if I may . . .?” He nodded. “Please.” “It seems your wife remains uninterested in being your wife, Your Grace.”

“Is it simply that you refuse to be honest with us? Or because you refuse to be honest with yourself?” There were things that only sisters could say. Ways only sisters could make a woman rage. “I’ve never not been honest with you.” “What utter swill,” Sophie scoffed. “You left us. Without a word. What was honest in that? You lost yourself, Sera. You were in mourning for the man you loved and the child you lost. And you threw everything away. Including us. And I was inclined to be understanding. But now—it’s time for you to see that you do yourself a disservice. Lord knows I’ve never had much love for Haven, but the man adores you, and he is willing to give you anything you wish. Anything you require. Though right now I cannot imagine why.” Sera sat back on her seat. “Oof. That was a bit harsh,” Seline said quietly. “Well, perhaps she needed to hear it,” Sophie snapped. “I didn’t, as a matter of fact. Because it isn’t true.” Sophie raised a brow as Sera went on. “I asked him for one thing. A divorce. My freedom. His as well, I might add, and he hasn’t given me that.” “Perhaps he won’t give it to you because you have some kind of bizarre fantasy of what freedom is.” Sera narrowed her gaze on her sister. “And I suppose you know?” “I do, as a matter of fact,” Sophie said as the carriage stopped. She smoothed her skirts and her hair as a liveried footman approached to open the door. She looked to Sera before she took his hand and stepped down from the block. Turning back, she s...