Page 16 of The Duke of Cups (The Highwaymen #3)

“That’s normal, mon chaton,” said Seraphine, reaching across the table again to touch her hand.

“What’s normal?”

“Falling for the first one,” said Seraphine.

“No matter what he’s like. No matter how little you really do care for him.

It’s intimate, and it’s new, and it’s quite common.

But don’t worry, it won’t last. You will not be so badly in love with him forever.

Trust me, he does not deserve your love, and I think you know that. ”

Hyacinth drank more wine, feeling wrung out. “I suppose he doesn’t.”

“Men never do, though,” said Seraphine with a shrug. “Here we are, bestowing ourselves upon them, and there is not a single man who is worthy of any woman at all. We are much better than they are, mon chaton . Never forget that.”

“Who was your first? Did you love him?”

“My husband, obviously,” said Seraphine, rolling her eyes. “I did, for a time. Quite, yes.”

“But it didn’t last?”

“He was never the least bit interested in me. Consummated our marriage out of duty and promptly went back to his mistress at the time, you know? When I expressed a wish for us to spend more time together, it was he who suggested I should seek my own lover. ‘Try not to get yourself with someone else’s child,’ was all he said about it.

” Seraphine made a face, as if this still hurt her.

“Not even a little bit jealous. Not even a little bit possessive. Not even…” She laughed, and it was bitter-tinged.

“It is a blow when you are in love with someone who barely cares you exist.”

“I imagine it is,” said Hyacinth softly.

“I don’t know what to think about Dunrose claiming to be jealous,” said Seraphine.

“That does not bode entirely well, I’m afraid.

Jealous men don’t tend to feel as if they have less of a claim on a woman once they’ve bedded them, you see.

That tends to solidify a claim. On the other hand, I don’t know if Dunrose has ever been interested in claiming a woman at all. So—”

The doors to the dining room opened, abruptly.

Seraphine called out, annoyed, “I have expressly asked for privacy!”

“Oh, apologies, my angel,” said Champeraigne as he entered, for it was he who had opened the doors.

He had a cane that he was leaning on, and his hair was graying at his temples, thinning at the crown of his head.

He moved into the room and sat down at the table next to Hyacinth.

“Hello, Seraphine’s kitten. What are you doing here? ”

“She was wearing out her welcome a bit with the Collinses,” said Seraphine. “I thought it was no real problem if she were here. She eats very little, so she is not much expense.”

Champeraigne shrugged. “Is the marquis here?”

“Yes, but he’s shut up and in one of his moods.” Seraphine sighed. “I didn’t know you were due back. How was Scotland?”

“I can’t understand the brogue,” he said. “I needed a translation much of the time. It’s as if they speak another damnable language, you know that?”

She shrugged. “How you suffer.”

“Why are we speaking of Dunrose?” said Champeraigne.

“Why were you in Scotland?” countered Seraphine. “You tell me something about your life, and I shall tell you something about mine.”

Champeraigne laughed, picking up Seraphine’s wine glass and drinking from it. “Well, all right, but you’re not going to like it.”

She regarded him. “All the more reason to tell me.”

“I was thinking about marrying the daughter of a Scottish laird,” he said. “I went to meet her, and there was nothing wrong with her, and I am still thinking about it, I suppose. But I don’t think she liked me, which bothers me more than I might say.”

“You want a wife?” said Seraphine, blinking at him. “Now?”

“Told you that you wouldn’t like it,” said Champeraigne. “You are married, my angel, and you also are quite free with yourself. You seem to expect more fidelity on my part than I expect on yours.”

Seraphine snorted. “I expect nothing, of course, monsieur le comte . You make no secret of your own displeasures with my lovers, after all. Might you not afford me some sympathy?”

“Why do you want to get married?” spoke up Hyacinth.

Champeraigne looked Hyacinth over, his gaze assessing. “Hmm.”

“No, you don’t!” said Seraphine, horrified. “Stop that. ”

“Well, you’ve been trying to marry her off for years now,” said Champeraigne. “I need a wife, and she needs a husband—”

“She’s a child. You are over thirty years her senior. Definitely not,” said Seraphine. “What do you need a wife for? I thought it was money, but she doesn’t have any.”

“I need to get into the Wallace party, of course, and no single men are ever invited.”

“What’s that?” said Hyacinth.

“Oh, do they even have that anymore?” said Seraphine. “I thought it was discontinued.”

“No, just more secretive than ever, more exclusive than ever,” said Champeraigne. He turned to Hyacinth. “It’s a secret society, essentially, and the party is the initiation. I need in, because it will be useful for networking with very wealthy men, whose money I need to relieve them of.”

“And you have to be married?” said Hyacinth.

“Amongst other things,” said Champeraigne.

“I have been working diligently on the other elements for several months now. I had begun to convince myself I would not need matrimony, but it’s becoming clear that it won’t work else.

I should be married, and I’d prefer to marry someone like your kitten here.

She already knows quite a bit about me, so I wouldn’t have to lie to her, and she’s quite clever, isn’t she?

Skilled at selling pretty lies to the ton ? ”

“No,” said Seraphine, shaking her head. “I shall not allow it. I wish this poor little one to have a good marriage. She needs someone to look after her.”

“I’ll look after her,” said Champeraigne.

“If I can get into the Wallace party, I can guarantee the money we’ll have will be more than we’ve had in some time.

It could change everything for us.” He eyed Hyacinth.

“You needn’t worry, kitten. I shan’t touch you.

I doubt very much Seraphine would abide that. ” He turned back to Seraphine.

“No,” said Seraphine again.

Champeraigne just laughed.

“No more of that,” said Seraphine. “I shan’t stand for that kind of talk. ”

After dinner, Hyacinth paid a servant to take a letter to Dunrose in town, to tell him that Champeraigne was back, and that Champeraigne wanted to marry her.

She didn’t know what sort of response she would expect back.

For now, Seraphine was protecting Hyacinth from the comte’s scheme, but that might not last.

The comte was good at convincing Seraphine to do his bidding, after all, so it might be that she would come round, and Hyacinth felt she could not marry that man.

She stayed up, waiting for the response to come back from Dunrose, half-hoping he’d just appear at her house and whisk her off on horseback.

Maybe he’d agreed to marry her himself, even though she wasn’t sure if she wished to marry him or not.

She was in love with him, she thought, but she agreed when Seraphine said that Dunrose did not deserve her love.

But the servant brought her letter back.

The Duke of Dunrose had left London to go and visit his friend the Duke of Arthford at Bluebelle Grange.

She couldn’t understand.

The ball was in four days. They were meant to meet there.

Why had Dunrose left for the country?

He could not go there and be back in time.

So, had he simply abandoned her?

She grimaced. Got what he wanted from her, she supposed. Now, he was gone.

“Shall I take the letter to Bluebelle Grange instead?” said the servant. “I don’t mind the ride.”

Oh, why not? Maybe it would irk him to think of her with Champeraigne, since he hated him. She’d like to do him some kind of damage, she supposed.