The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(58)

He wasn’t surprised Henry had suspected, and he was thankful he’d never inquired. A man didn’t go around talking about his problems or his weaknesses. And in his case, his weaknesses were many. War heroes didn’t have nightmares. British officers didn’t wake up at night in a cold sweat, panting, hanging their heads over the side of the bed, casting up their stomach’s contents.

“I’ve noticed the signs. You torment yourself. You can’t sleep. You eat little and you drink too much. I’ve seen you leave a room when the topic of war arises, and I’ve seen you sweat and panic when you see something as harmless as Napoleon’s carriage.”

Michael’s fingers tightened on his coffee cup, and Henry nodded. “That night at Vauxhall Gardens when you left abruptly, something else happened to you, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” Michael’s voice was hoarse, uneven. He didn’t want to go into the details. He hated talking about his fits, hated admitting to the weakness. “Chloe helped me that night. She saw me home so that no one would notice that I wasn’t well.”

Henry nodded. “I suspected as much. And last night proved all my suspicions true.”

Michael felt ill at the reminder. “I want you to know that I didn’t consciously try to harm you.”

“I know.”

“I’m dealing with my condition.”

“Other than last night, which I take responsibility for provoking you, I believe you. I have noticed a change in you as of late. You seem improved, relaxed, happy. If Chloe Somerton has helped you, then for that reason, I owe her my gratitude.”

“Your gratitude?”

Henry held his gaze. “Yes.”

Michael’s thoughts turned to when Chloe had arrived in his study and helped him through a trying time. She’d offered him comfort and understanding. Let go of your past. Guilt will only cripple you. Miraculously, he had started to release the guilt. He’d found solace speaking about the worst day of his life, in the smooth strokes of her hands, in the sweetness of her giving body.

She’d helped him more than anyone in his life.

“When I learned of your relationship, my pride was wounded,” Henry said.

Michael’s gaze snapped to his. “We never intended to hurt you.”

Henry lowered his cup. “My pride, but not my heart.”

Relief coursed through Michael. He didn’t want Henry to love Chloe. He didn’t want any man to love her.

“I also came today to give you my blessing.”

Michael stilled, his emotions vacillating between surprise and admiration. “That’s no longer necessary. There will be no wedding.”

“You changed your mind. Why?”

“It’s not so easy.”

“But it is. From what I surmised, she already agreed. Why change your mind?”

Michael ran a hand down his face. He’d gone berserk when Henry had waved the bloody letter in his face. Every muscle in his body had tightened, and pressure in his chest had squeezed unbearably until animal instinct had taken over and he’d lunged for Henry. His actions had irrevocable consequences.

Good God. He believed that he’d had a breakthrough with her in his study. He’d actually thought there was a chance his condition could improve with time and patience, and he had hope for a future. A future with her. What a fool he’d been.

“It’s complicated.”

“Why?”

Michael’s jaw tensed. “You saw for yourself. The war has left me…unbalanced.”

“Last night was an accident, and I should never have shown you my father’s letter. You cannot possibly think that you would purposely harm her.”

He hoped to God he’d never intentionally harm anyone during one of his fits, but there was the emotional harm that he’d certainly cause. “She has already known loss when her father abandoned her. I would be no different.”

“I don’t believe you would, and deep down I think you know it as well. Are you willing to just walk away?”

The thought made his jaw clench. His need for Chloe went deeper than just physical attraction. She was a part of him, she didn’t judge him or pity him, but rather, she understood. She’d foolishly thought her youthful sins made her unworthy when he found them admirable. Her past had forged her into an incredibly strong woman. A desirable woman.

The perfect woman for him.

“If there is one thing I’ve learned from this entire experience it is that love is rare and special,” Henry said. “A man does not get to choose with whom, or when, he falls in love. Only the lucky ones get to grow old sharing the same pillow with a woman they love. And it may not happen to everyone. But when it does, you must seize it like the precious thing that it is. To walk away from it is a crime.”

Henry’s words struck him in the gut. He longed to hold Chloe through the night and wake each day beside her. His tormented soul wasn’t entirely healed, he knew that, but she was the only one who had begun his path to his recovery.

He loved her. Totally and completely, he loved her. Looking back, he realized his feelings for her had begun the very first time she’d visited his home, stood up to him, and boldly told him she’d filched a man’s purse rather than bother with his handkerchief. But that was why he was walking away. For her. For her future. She deserved better than a broken man.