The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(41)

I picked pockets and sold goods to an infamous brothel owner so that I could help pay for my medicine.

Then there was her most recent transgression. I also lost my virginity and spent an earth-shattering afternoon in the Duke of Cameron’s bed.

She wasn’t certain which would be more shocking.

“I’ve thought of a perfect distraction for the duke and have invited Lady Willowby to join us again Friday evening. My tactic worked when we all attended Vauxhall Gardens.”

Chloe’s heart sank. Lady Willowby would come? She would have to watch the attractive lady flirt with Michael. How could she get through the evening?

Amelia was watching her closely. “You don’t seem excited, Chloe. In fact, you look rather…melancholy.” Chloe squirmed beneath Amelia’s gaze. As the artist, Amelia was by far the most perceptive.

“I know what it is,” Eliza said.

Chloe looked at Eliza in surprise.

Eliza gave her a look of sympathy mingled with worry. “Chloe’s been having nightmares again.”

Nightmares? Chloe stared wordlessly at her sisters, her heart pounding. “How do you know?”

Eliza patted her hand. “I’ve heard you at night.”

“I thought it had been years,” Amelia said. “Perhaps a physician can help.”

Summoning the physician was the last thing Chloe wanted. He’d order a tincture of laudanum, and Chloe hated the lethargic effects of the drug.

“No. A physician isn’t necessary. I’ve been sleeping better. I also have a good feeling that after your gathering, things will improve.”

“Are you certain?” Eliza asked.

“Without a doubt. Please don’t worry.”

Everything would be settled Friday evening. She’d patiently explain to Henry that they weren’t well suited. He’d understand and would turn his efforts elsewhere. As for Michael, she’d be careful to never be alone with him again, and this madness between them would end once and for all.

All would be well. It had to be.





Chapter Sixteen


Chloe made her way to the kitchens, where she spotted the cook, Mary, taking a tray of scones out of the oven and setting them on a rack to cool.

“Good afternoon,” Chloe said.

Mary straightened at the sight of Chloe standing in the doorway. “Is there anything you need, Miss Chloe?” Although Mary was only a few years older than Chloe, the crow's-feet around her eyes and her graying hair made her appear a decade older.

“May I have a word in private?” Chloe asked.

A moment of unease flashed across Mary’s face and she wiped her hands on her apron. “If this is about last night’s meal, I apologize about the goose. I know it’s a greasy bird, but—”

“The meal was delicious. I want to ask your husband a few questions.”

“My husband?”

“Yes, about the war.” Chloe recalled Alice telling her that the cook’s husband had difficulties after the war, and the information had drawn her to the kitchens today.

Mary’s face fell. “I don’t know. Ben hasn’t been himself since his return.”

“I understand your hesitation, but I have an…an acquaintance. He’s suffered since his return from war as well. I was hoping Ben could help.”

After Chloe had seen Michael at the orphanage, she had been determined to cease thinking of him. Yet here she was asking if there were other soldiers who suffered similar symptoms and if the duke could be helped. The thought that there was someone out there who could possibly aid Michael was a draw she couldn’t resist.

Mary took a deep breath, then nodded. “Wait here, miss.”

Minutes later, Ben entered the room. A tall, thin man with blond hair and bushy sideburns, he had difficulty meeting Chloe’s gaze.

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Chloe said.

Ben shuffled his feet on the floor. “My wife said you had an acquaintance who suffers from war sickness.”

“I do. He has nightmares. Difficulty sleeping. But the most troublesome are the episodes or fits that come on unexpectedly. Anything can trigger them. Loud noises such as fireworks. The sight of Napoleon’s carriage at a museum.”

Ben lifted his head and met her eyes. There was a deep-seated anguish in the brown depths of his gaze.

Chloe struggled to stay calm and not raise her voice. “Is there anything that can help? Anyone? A particular army physician who has had success treating these symptoms?”

Mary scoffed. “The army doctors wanted to cut and bleed him. They are useless.”

“Not all soldiers experience symptoms upon their return. The physicians believe only weak soldiers are so afflicted,” Ben spoke up.

The weak ones? Of all the names she’d called the Duke of Cameron since she’d met him, weak was not one of them. He’d been an officer in charge of countless lives, and she’d heard stories of his capable command during the chaos of war.

For the first time, she understood why he hadn’t sought aid from the army. If they thought him weak and inferior and wanted to bleed him, why would he?

Chloe was enraged. Bloodletting wouldn’t help. It wasn’t a physical illness but one of the mind.

“It wasn’t until we talked with other soldiers that the symptoms eased,” Mary said.