The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(37)

His scrutiny was almost a physical caress. “I needed to see that you’re all right today. It was your first time and I wasn’t gentle.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at his mention of their passionate afternoon together. He cares. “I’m fine.” Except she was far from fine. Her emotions were wreaking havoc with her heart—tugging in uncomfortable ways.

He skimmed his forefinger along her cheek. “Now you must answer my question. Why Emily?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s obvious you’ve made an emotional connection with the child. Why not any of the other girls here?”

Her chest tightened. Her immediate response was to lie, but his dark, earnest eyes probed for the truth. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I was sick as a child as well.”

He stood still. “How sick?”

“It started as a cold, but then I developed a cough. Times were difficult when we’d first opened the Peacock Print Shop. What little coal we could afford was used to heat the shop downstairs rather than our living quarters on the second floor. It was a very cold winter, and I’d often climb into bed with Eliza or Amelia to stay warm. I was just shy of thirteen years at the time. Instead of recovering as expected, my cough lingered and lingered. The physician said I had weak lungs.”

“You recovered.”

She shook her head and turned away. “No, not right away. Eliza had to scrape what little profit the print shop made that first winter to purchase cough tonic for me from the apothecary. The owner, Mr. Allenson, was not a generous soul, and the medicine I required was costly. The cough came and went for over three and a half years, and I still needed the tonic for a long while afterward. I was a financial and emotional drain on my two sisters.”

“You can’t really believe that.”

She looked up at him. “It’s true. Eliza worked tirelessly to ensure the print shop was a success. Amelia sold a forgery to help with the first month’s rent. I did nothing but cause them worry and cost them coin every time they had to visit the apothecary.”

His voice was uncompromising, yet oddly gentle. “You cannot blame yourself. You were only a child at the time and you were ill.”

“It doesn’t matter. They sacrificed because of me.”

He hesitated, searching her face. She felt naked, stripped of her defenses, as if he could see into her soul and discover all her deepest and darkest secrets. “That’s why you started stealing, isn’t it?”

When she didn’t respond, he reached out and shook her arms. “Isn’t it?”

It was impossible to escape his scrutiny. “I paid the apothecary owner, Mr. Allenson, with my stolen goods. It still wasn’t enough to cover the entire cost, but he would lower the price of the tonic when my sisters would arrive to purchase it. Eliza and Amelia never knew.”

The story was partly the truth. She did pay Mr. Allenson, but not with her stolen goods. Mr. Allenson had no use for embroidered handkerchiefs or jeweled clips. He was only interested in money, and that meant Chloe had to find someone who would pay her for the stolen trinkets. She’d found an invaluable resource in Madame Satine, the owner of the infamous Seven Sins brothel, who’d offered her the coins she needed in exchange for the items. The proprietress liked her girls, and she’d give the stolen items to them as gifts. The arrangement may have helped Chloe at the time, but it was also a secret that could ruin her and her sisters.

She could never reveal the entire truth to him or to anyone. She felt a deep-seated shame even though she’d done what was necessary to survive.

He gently squeezed her arms. “So your sisters never learned that you picked pockets?”

“No, and I want to keep it that way.”

“I shall keep your secret. But you should know your illness was not your fault, and I was wrong to call you a thief. I don’t know many who would have had the strength to do what you did to aid your sisters.”

She stood still, blank and amazed. Never had she imagined to receive admiration from the Duke of Cameron. For a moment, she wanted to confess everything, but she held her tongue.

Insanity. No matter how strong her feelings had grown for this man she must never forget he was a duke and she was the daughter of an art forger. He held the power to ruin her with a single word.

“Now tell me why you are here?” she said.

“I wanted to see with my own eyes what you do on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“You mean you wanted to know if I was telling the truth about my charitable activities.”

“I won’t deny it. But there’s another reason, too. Henry came to see me. He said he visited you and plans to speak with Huntingdon.”

Chloe felt her face pale. “I see.”

“Do you mean to let him ask for your hand?”

“You mean after what happened between us?”

A crease formed between his brows. “You regret it, then.”

“I’ve stopped living my life by regrets long ago. You needn’t worry about Henry. He is not for me, and I shall tell him myself as soon as I am able.”

A flicker of emotion crossed his features—Satisfaction? Relief?—but it was gone and the familiar mask of confidence descended. “Good. Because despite my guilt over taking your innocence, I cannot stop thinking of you. The softness of your skin, your silken heat, and your sweet gasps as you received pleasure. I want you again, Chloe, more than I’ve wanted anyone in a long, long time.”