The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(40)

“I admit to not wanting to share my wife, but Amelia did miss you and Eliza terribly,” Vale said, placing a possessive arm around Amelia’s shoulders.

A stab of jealousy pierced Chloe’s chest. Would she ever have a man who loved and cherished her? A man who would move heaven and earth to be with her? Someone who accepted her for her flaws, including all her past sins?

Both her sisters had found happiness with their spouses. Chloe didn’t think she’d be as fortunate.

“Where’s Huntingdon?” Vale asked. “I’d like to catch up.”

“He’s in his study,” Chloe said.

The butler finally appeared to take Lord and Lady Vale’s belongings, and Vale disappeared down the hall to find Huntingdon.

A shriek above the stairs captured the sisters’ attention, and they looked above to see Eliza fly down the stairs. “At last! I thought you would miss my dinner party.”

Chloe’s stomach tightened at the mention of Eliza’s upcoming party. She hadn’t had a moment alone with Eliza since her sister had invited Henry to Huntingdon house yesterday. Eliza had been out of the house, making social calls or with her husband. The one time they’d been together was at the dressmakers, and Madame Adalene had stayed in the fitting room for their entire visit. As a result, Eliza had no idea of Chloe’s dilemma and that she was no longer interested in Henry.

“What dinner party?” Amelia said.

“I’m hosting a small gathering Friday evening. Our youngest sister,” Eliza said, glancing at Chloe with a mischievous smile, “has captured the interest of an earl.”

“Oooh, you must tell all.” Amelia looked to Chloe.

Chloe’s thoughts were jagged and painful, and a heaviness centered in her chest. How could she tell her sisters she no longer desired Henry because she was fast becoming obsessed with the duke instead? She should gather her courage and speak, but something held her back and the words wouldn’t come. Would Huntingdon and Vale force the duke to the altar if her sisters told their husbands the truth?

Good grief. That wouldn’t do at all. She wanted a husband, but not a forced one.

“I’ll tell you everything over tea,” Eliza said. “You must be parched. I’d be a bad hostess if I didn’t offer you refreshment after your long journey.”

Minutes later, they were all seated in the parlor. A maid wheeled in a tea tray and a plate of scones. Eliza poured the tea and handed Amelia and Chloe steaming cups.

“Now which earl has Chloe captivated?” Amelia said.

“Eliza is speaking of Lord Sefton,” Chloe said.

Eliza sat on the edge of her seat. “He’s young and quite handsome with fair hair. He’s also recently come into the title after his father was tragically killed at Waterloo.”

Amelia lowered her teacup and looked at Chloe. “I’m sorry to hear about the death of the father, but I’m happy for you, Chloe. I know you’ve always wanted to marry a titled gentleman.”

Chloe inwardly cringed at her sister’s words. She knew her sister didn’t mean for her to sound like a fortune-seeking female, but nevertheless, the statement made her feel shallow. But that’s what she’d always wanted, wasn’t it? A wealthy, titled man. A man who wanted a beautiful, dutiful wife who would seamlessly slip into the role of his countess and run his home and charm his guests.

She’d always justified her goals and believed she was different from the desperate debutantes and their calculating mamas. She didn’t care a whit about acceptance by the ton or acquiring tickets to the hallowed halls of Almack’s. Her motivations had to do with a fear of poverty, abandonment, and sickness.

“The Earl of Sefton is quite smitten,” Eliza said. “It’s a pleasure to watch him fawn over Chloe. The only obstacle has been the Duke of Cameron.”

“The duke?” Amelia looked at Eliza in confusion. “Vale has spoken of the duke. He’s a war hero, a former lieutenant colonel, who returned from battle only to discover his father and brother had been killed in an unfortunate accident. What does he have to do with Chloe’s earl?”

“The duke owes Henry’s father his life,” Chloe said softly. “The former Lord Sefton took a bullet in the chest to save him. The duke now thinks of himself as Henry’s protector of sorts, even though Henry is a grown man himself.”

“Hmm,” Amelia said. “And the duke doesn’t find you good enough for Henry? I can only assume it is because of our infamous father.” Amelia’s tone was cutting. Out of all three of the sisters, Amelia had the least regard for their father. Chloe always thought it was because Amelia was the only one to inherit his artistic ability to forge priceless works of art. It was a talent Amelia had resented for years.

Amelia’s marriage to Lord Vale had been a saving grace. Rather than forbid her from picking up a brush, her husband encouraged her artistic ambitions to paint images of the laboring poor of London, a calling that had appealed to Amelia ever since their brief time in St. Giles.

“It no longer matters. We have both married earls who are not bothered by Jonathan Miller’s crimes. Even Huntingdon, as an art critic who’d been duped by Father, no longer cares,” Eliza said.

Chloe didn’t want to admit the truth. Michael wasn’t overly concerned about their father’s corruption, either. He’d been initially more concerned about her sins. But now that she’d told him she was no longer interested in Henry, she didn’t believe Michael cared much about her past. A deeply buried part of her wanted to confess everything to her sisters, but she had kept the truth to herself for so long she couldn’t find the courage to blurt it out now. Where would she even start?