The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(35)

Mr. Whitleson sat behind the desk. A gaunt man with wiry salt-and-pepper hair, he had small dark eyes. He stood as soon as the women entered the room.

Mrs. Porter made the introductions. “This is Miss Somerton. I’ve told you about her visits.”

“Ah, yes.” Mr. Whitleson came around the desk. “Please have a seat, Miss Somerton.” He motioned to one of the wooden chairs, and Chloe sat and smoothed her skirts. Mr. Whitleson sat behind his desk. Something flickered in the depths of his dark eyes as he studied her intently. The hairs on Chloe’s nape rose, but she forced herself to smile serenely and meet his gaze.

The questionable look disappeared. “May I offer you refreshment?” Mr. Whitleson asked.

“No, thank you.”

He motioned to Mrs. Porter, and the woman left the room.

Mr. Whitleson sat back in his chair. “You are related to the Earls of Huntingdon and Vale?”

“Yes, they are married to my sisters.”

He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger as he looked at her curiously. “I met Lord and Lady Huntingdon at the theater a while back. You look familiar. Perhaps you accompanied them?”

She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be certain. Drury Lane was always crowded. A frisson pierced her spine. Was it possible she’d run into him in the past? But where? At the print shop? The apothecary? Or worse…at the Seven Sins brothel when she’d met with Madame Satine?

No. That was highly unlikely. The proprietress had always been careful to meet Chloe in her private chambers away from the brothel’s paying customers. Chloe would then trade her stolen wares for coin.

Chloe forced herself to relax. She was acting paranoid. The chances were slim to none that he would recognize her even if he’d glimpsed her coming or leaving the brothel. It had been years. She was no longer wearing a shabby dress, with her hair tied in a simple bow at her nape. She was dressed in a fine gown, and Alice had styled her hair in a sleek chignon. A string of simple pearls adorned her throat. No one would suspect the sister-in-law of two powerful and well-respected nobles had picked pockets in her youth and conducted business with an infamous brothel owner.

“It’s likely you saw me at the theater,” she said. “My sister and I enjoy Drury Lane, especially the Shakespearean performances.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “The cast was performing Hamlet that night.”

She gifted him with another smile, one that had never failed to charm. “I asked to speak with you to discuss one of the young children here.”

“Ah, yes. Emily Higgins. Mrs. Porter told me you are fond of the girl.”

“I was told her health is not improving.”

“It’s true. Dr. Mason’s prognosis is not a positive one.”

Despair settled in Chloe’s stomach. “If there is anything the child needs, please let—”

“Thank you, that’s not necessary. Dr. Mason has increased the dose and frequency of her tonic. He believes it is her last chance for improvement.”

Her last chance? Chloe’s nerves tensed. It had to work. The alternative was unthinkable. She pushed back her chair and stood. “I should like to see Emily now.”

He stood. “Of course. But a word of advice, Miss Somerton. It’s best if you prepare yourself for the worst. I’ve learned from my time here that miracles rarely happen.”

…

Miracles rarely happen.

No one knew that more than Chloe. But she could still pray for one.

Chloe approached Emily’s bedside. Black hair streamed across the white pillow, and the child’s small face was pale and angelic. Emily’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled when Chloe came close.

“Emily, sweetheart, how do you feel today?” Chloe asked.

“Not so well, Miss Chloe. I can hear the other children playing outside, but the doctor says I can’t join them.”

Chloe swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “I can carry you outside if you wish. We can watch them together.”

Emily shook her head. “I think it would be worse to watch and not join them.” There was longing in her voice that nearly broke Chloe’s heart.

Chloe wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. “Then I shall sit and read to you.” She pulled up the wooden chair, settled the book on her lap, and opened to the page where she’d stopped reading on her last visit.

“I’d like that. But I don’t know if the big man would like a princess story.”

Chloe’s eyes snapped to Emily’s. “What big man?”

“The one standing behind you.”

Chloe whirled around to find Michael a few steps behind her. Her hand fluttered to her chest. Where on earth had he come from? And how could such a large man move so stealthily? “What are you doing here?”

The corner of his lips twitched. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well.”

Chloe stood and the book thumped to the floor.

“Who is he?” Emily asked behind her.

Chloe cleared her throat and turned to Emily. The child was leaning on her elbows and looking questioningly at both of them. “Emily, this is His Grace, the Duke of—”

“Michael. My name is Michael.” He stepped close to the bedside and crouched down to offer Emily his hand. “How do you do, Emily?”