The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(21)
Michael was confusing her, making her desire what she shouldn’t. It was all a lie. A cruel, vicious lie to get her to avoid Henry and abandon her hopes and dreams. The duke cared nothing for her, other than to satisfy his base needs. He wanted her to fail and was doing his best to seduce her to ruin.
She’d best not forget it.
Chapter Nine
That evening, Chloe, Eliza, and Huntingdon took a boat ride across the Thames. A boatman, a war veteran with a wooden leg, rowed the small craft quickly across the river. Soon they passed through the water entrance of Vauxhall Gardens and arrived at the quayside. Lord Huntingdon jumped out and assisted the two women to dry land.
Chloe smoothed the skirts of her gown, a sapphire silk trimmed in Brussels lace that shimmered beneath the moonlight. Her fair hair was fashioned in loose curls and held back by jeweled clips that had been a gift from her sister Amelia on her birthday.
“The duke, Lord Sefton, and Lady Willowby will join us in my private supper box,” Huntingdon said.
Chloe had since learned that Lady Willowby was only two years older than she. The youngest of four unmarried daughters of a wealthy merchant, her status had been significantly elevated upon her marriage to a much older viscount. The death of her husband, six months later, had left Lady Willowby a handsome widow’s portion and a wealthy lady.
Chloe trailed behind her sister and brother-in-law as they walked to the entrance to the gardens, and Huntingdon paid the fee to enter. She should be grateful if Eliza’s manipulations were successful. Lady Willowby would occupy Michael, and Chloe could finally spend time with Henry.
She had little time to ponder the feelings of unease in her stomach as they passed through the entranceway, and she halted at the sight before her.
Hundreds of lanterns hung from trees, masts, and wooden poles to illuminate acres of meticulously landscaped gardens. The magnificent shining lights looked like twinkling stars in the distance. Sycamore, lime, and elm trees lined gravel paths and invited leisurely walks by visitors. Scattered among the trees were wooden arbors that provided shade from the sun in the day and a private spot for an amorous couple in the evening. In the distance, a Roman-styled piazza was lit by dozens of lanterns. Notably absent was the ever-present noise, the unpleasant stench of the city, and the black coal factory smoke that polluted the London air.
They walked farther into the gardens and came to a large open space with a tall multistoried rotunda. An orchestra played in a balcony while well-dressed guests and revelers danced a country reel below. Facing the orchestra, row after row of supper boxes, which could easily hold eight people, were decorated with exquisite paintings from accomplished artists William Hogarth and Francis Hayman. Visitors drank, ate, and strolled through the gardens.
Chloe’s eyes were wide as she took in the scene for the first time—all her senses heightened to the sound of the music, the glow of the lanterns, and the scent of flowering shrubs and greenery of the famous pleasure gardens.
Eliza led Chloe toward one of the supper boxes. “I see them,” Eliza said.
Chloe turned to see both Henry and Michael approach through the crowd. Henry looked dashing in a bottle-green jacket and striped waistcoat. His fair hair was combed in the à la Brutus style currently popular with the dandies of the ton.
Guests parted, and the duke came fully into view. Chloe sucked in a breath.
His muscular six-foot frame was complemented by a blue jacket of kerseymere, a striped waistcoat, and trousers that hugged his strong legs. His dark hair shone like mahogany beneath the lamplight, and his sensual dark eyes appeared mysterious and fathomless. He was all lean muscle, power, and confidence. Standing next to him, Henry looked like a boy.
Henry bowed and lifted Chloe’s gloved hand to brush a kiss across the satin. “You look lovely as always.”
Chloe’s lips curled in a welcoming smile. “The chocolates were delectable.”
Henry leaned close to whisper. “I hope to learn all your favorites.”
She experienced a heightened awareness of Michael as he stepped forward. No doubt he didn’t approve of Henry whispering anything into her ear. She turned to properly greet the infuriating duke.
Chloe swallowed. His rapier gaze raked her form-fitting sapphire gown, then captured her eyes. The only sign of his reaction was the slight flaring of his nostrils. “Miss Somerton.”
Electric tingles rushed through her at his look. He must have sensed it, for one dark eyebrow arched upward.
She became aware of a rustle of skirts and a lady watching them. “Thank you for inviting me this evening,” Lady Willowby said, gliding forward.
She was a beautiful woman with upswept red hair and green eyes. Unlike many with such flame-colored hair, Lady Willowby’s fair complexion was like fine china. Not a freckle marred her porcelain skin. Her voluptuous figure was on display in a green gown with a scandalously low bodice that matched the shade of her jade eyes. She looked up at the duke with a mixture of lust and possession.
Chloe hated her instantly.
A waiter approached with a tray of drinks. Eliza was first to pluck a glass from the tray and waited until everyone was served. “We shall order first, then walk the gardens before Madame Saqui’s performance. But first let us share a drink of Vauxhall’s famous arrack punch.” She raised her glass. “To good friends.”
Chloe sipped her drink composed of rum, lemon, sugar, and arrack. It was potent, but delicious, and warmed her blood and eased her nerves.