The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(12)

Chloe was the youngest, and thus, her memories weren’t entirely tarnished by her father’s foray into painting forgeries. Vague memories of him reading her bedtime stories lingered in her mind. They’d been close…and perhaps too similar.

The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the ailing tree.

Footsteps sounded outside the hall, and the butler entered the breakfast room for the second time that morning. “There is a delivery for you, Miss Chloe.”

Chloe set down her cup. “For me?”

“Yes, miss.”

Both sisters pushed back their chairs and followed the butler into the vestibule, where an enormous arrangement of hothouse lilies in a glittering crystal vase rested on a pedestal table.

Chloe gasped. “Oh my! Have you ever seen such lovely blooms?”

“Read the card,” Eliza prodded.

Chloe reached for the embossed vellum. For a heart-stopping moment, she wondered if the blooms were sent by the duke.

Don’t be ridiculous. There was nothing romantic about the Duke of Cameron. He had offended and insulted her, and then he had kissed her—not to seduce her or court her, but to prove his dominance and control, to prove that he would win in their battle of wills no matter the tactic chosen. If only she hadn’t felt a ripple of desire when he’d pressed his lips to hers.

She broke the seal, let the sheet of crisp paper unfold, and read out loud:

Dear Miss Somerton.

The beauty of these flowers is nothing compared to your own.

Yours truly,

Lord Sefton.

Eliza clasped her hands to her chest in delight. “How utterly romantic! The garden party shall be the perfect opportunity to further encourage the young earl’s pursuit.”

Chloe’s fingers tightened on the card. Her emotions vacillated between satisfaction and uncertainty. Her plans were coming to fruition. And if all went well, Henry would propose marriage before the end of the Season. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Then why did she keep remembering a single kiss from an infuriating duke?





Chapter Five


Chloe inhaled the scent of evergreens, azaleas, and flowering shrubs in Lady Webster’s garden. She’d arrived with Eliza and Huntingdon a half hour prior and they’d mingled with the dozens of well-dressed guests.

An impressive showing had turned out for the unveiling of Lady Webster’s horticultural conservatory, a large glass-and-steel structure that loomed in the distance. A widow in her early fifties, Lady Webster was an avid horticulturist. Dressed entirely in green, she wore a turban that made her look like one of her sculpted evergreens. The conservatory doors remained closed until all had arrived, when Lady Webster would open them for her guests to tour.

It was a lovely mild afternoon with a cloudless sky. Tables in the meticulously kept gardens had been set up with an array of delicacies and refreshments for the guests to enjoy. The women wore colorful gowns of muslin or silk, and the men were dressed in trousers, jackets, and checked and striped waistcoats. Chloe had taken care with her own dress—a yellow muslin with lace at the sleeves, bodice, and hem. Alice had styled her blond curls in an elegant chignon with soft curls brushing her cheeks.

“Do you see Lord Sefton?” Eliza leaned close to whisper in Chloe’s ear.

“No.” Chloe smoothed her skirts with nervous fingers.

Eliza patted her arm. “Don’t fret. He’s due to arrive. Would you like me to mention in passing that we plan to ride in Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon? Perhaps he will make an appearance and the two of you can ride together.”

For some reason, Eliza’s comment did not sit well. “You must not appear to interfere. All is going well on its own.”

Eliza blinked. “You’re right, of course.”

Chloe immediately felt churlish at the flash of hurt in her sister’s eyes. “Forgive me, Eliza. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m simply anxious.”

Eliza’s brow eased, and she squeezed Chloe’s hand. “I promise not to act like an overbearing matchmaking mother.”

Scanning the crowd, Chloe searched for Lord Sefton. Her gaze focused on the tallest men present. Henry was average in height, but the duke was tall and muscular and would be easier to find. She didn’t see either man.

If Cameron did appear with Henry in tow, would he attempt to bribe her again? Or try another tactic?

Annoyance rose within Chloe. She knew she was too prideful by nature—a bad trait she’d inherited from her father, along with his stubbornness and temper. If the duke wanted a challenge, she would give him a battle.

Huntingdon approached to join Eliza and Chloe. Her brother-in-law was a handsome man, but it was the look of adoration in his eyes when he gazed upon Eliza that had immediately endeared him to Chloe.

“Lord Ruskin is here. He’s a generous patron of the Royal Academy, and I need to speak with him,” Huntingdon said.

Eliza arched an eyebrow as she looked at a group of men conversing beside a well-sculpted hedgerow. “I take it he wants your opinion on another piece of artwork he’s purchased. Is it his third painting this month?”

“His fourth. I hope he’ll loan the Raphael to the museum. Please excuse me.”

Chloe had learned that art collectors frequently asked for Huntingdon’s opinion. “Good luck,” she said as Huntingdon walked away.