The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(34)

Henry clasped a hand to his chest. “I’d be honored.”

“Splendid,” Eliza said. “Now I’m afraid I must take Chloe with me for an appointment to Madame Adalene.”

Chloe stared. “Madame Adalene? The dressmakers?”

“Of course. Tell me you haven’t forgotten?” Eliza said. “We need new ball dresses for Lady Rosewood’s upcoming ball.”

It had been the last thing on Chloe’s mind.

Henry’s eyes bathed Chloe in admiration as he bowed. “I know better than to keep a lady from her modiste. Until Friday then.”

This couldn’t go on. Henry mustn’t speak with Eliza and Huntingdon. Somehow she’d have to find a way to speak with him privately and explain.

Chloe forced a smile as she looked up at him with an effort. “I shall look forward to it.”

…

“I plan on asking Lord Huntingdon for Miss Chloe’s hand in marriage.”

Michael’s gaze snapped to Henry. He had been pouring himself a glass of brandy in his library when his butler had announced Henry’s arrival. Michael set the glass down on the sideboard. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Henry wasn’t put off by his tone. Rather he smiled with genuine happiness. “I went to visit Miss Chloe later this afternoon.”

“You did?” A sudden thin chill hung on the edge of his words, but Henry appeared oblivious.

“I told her I wanted to speak with Huntingdon privately.”

Bloody hell. “What did she say?”

A wistful look crossed Henry’s face. “She was lovely as usual, in a pale yellow gown that reminded me of a field of buttercups during a lovely spring—”

“Henry,” Michael snapped. “What did she say?”

“Lady Huntingdon interrupted our conversation. We are invited to a small gathering at their home Friday evening. I hope to speak officially with Huntingdon about Chloe’s hand in marriage.”

Every nerve in Michael’s body tensed and his fists balled at his sides. Jealousy clawed at his gut like talons. She hadn’t said a word. He understood that Chloe couldn’t confess to an illicit tryst in his bed merely hours ago, but she could have told Henry she was no longer interested in his courting.

Or did she still intend to lure Henry into the marriage trap?

Hell.

One afternoon of pleasure haunted him. When had things become so damned complicated? From the beginning, his goals had been simple: to look after Henry and honor a debt to his father. Then Chloe Somerton had shown up at the museum, and his world had tilted on its axis. He’d wanted her out of Henry’s life and into his own bed. He’d misjudged her and thought she was experienced when it came to men. He never believed she’d been innocent. A nagging guilt rose within him when it came to both Henry and Chloe.

He needed to do better for Sefton’s son. But how, when he’d taken Chloe and still had a burning desire, an aching need, for another kiss?

He wanted more from her—he wanted everything.

Unthinkable.

She deserved marriage, and he could never, ever commit. He picked up the discarded brandy, threw back his head, and swallowed its contents.

Henry eyed him curiously. “Are you well?”

“Never better.”

Henry’s shoulders eased a notch. “You will agree to go to Lady Huntingdon’s gathering Friday evening, won’t you?”

Michael clenched the empty crystal as he reached for the decanter. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.”





Chapter Fourteen


The following morning, Chloe woke later than usual. Memories of her heated afternoon with the duke had invaded her dreams. She struggled to push them aside. Nothing could come of their time together, no matter how often she relived the velvet warmth of his kiss or the tantalizing caresses of his calloused hands on her skin.

The bedchamber door opened, and Alice stepped inside. After dressing, Chloe hurried to the breakfast room where she nibbled on buttered toast and sipped a cup of tea, then called for the butler to summon a carriage. Fifteen minutes later, Chloe arrived at the orphanage and hurried up the steps. She was late, and young Emily would surely be waiting. Her footsteps sounded off the worn floorboards as she rushed down the hall to the room the younger girls shared.

Mrs. Porter waylaid Chloe just outside the room. Her face was flushed, and her ample bosom heaved in her bodice. “Emily’s health is declining,” she stated abruptly.

Chloe’s nerves tensed. “Has the orphanage doctor seen the child?”

“Dr. Mason was here yesterday. She’s not improving, and he fears she will not. I should also inform you that Mr. Whitleson has returned.”

“I’d like to speak with him about Emily.”

Mrs. Porter nodded. “Follow me.”

Chloe was led into an office she’d never seen before. Mrs. Porter had always met her in the vestibule or was busy seeing to the numerous daily duties that were part of running the orphanage and caring for the children.

Mr. Whitleson, it appeared, acted in a much different capacity. Chloe scanned the bookshelves then spotted a pair of wooden chairs situated before an oak desk. Papers cluttered the surface of the desk, and Chloe suspected they had to do with the business aspects of the orphanage.