Page 20 of The Duke Meets His Match

Waiting until the shopkeeper was occupied with the demanding daughter and her desperate mother, Chloe made her move. She walked to the table, picked up a pink ribbon lying next to the pin, and ran it through her fingers as if considering buying it. The daughter spotted other hats, and she began to argue with her mother about the color of the artificial flowers she preferred.

What would it be like to worry about bonnets and ornamentation rather than where they were going to get the next month’s rent?

Chloe’s hand hovered over the opal pin. A strand of curly fair hair was entwined with it. Her heart thundered in her chest as her fingers grasped the pin and slipped it into her skirt pocket.

She headed straight for the door and, reaching up, held the little bell so that it wouldn’t jingle as she slipped outside. She made it into the alley before she let out a breath.

Success!

It had started raining, but she decided not to head back to the print shop just yet. The apothecary was only two doors down. But Mr. Allenson wouldn’t want an opal pin. She kept walking until she ended up in front of a plain brick building that housed one of the renowned houses of ill repute in the city—the Seven Sins brothel. Only one person would give her the money in exchange for the stolen pin. The proprietress, Madame Satine, was always willing to—

“Stop! Thief!”

Sheer black fright swept through her. Heart pounding, she began sprinting through the streets. She dared a glimpse over her shoulder to spot a constable in full pursuit. Rain gathered in between the cobblestones, turning them slick and treacherous. A cat darted across her path, and she slipped and fell to one knee. She cried out in pain as her thin stocking tore and she cut her knee, but then she sprang up and continued running. If she were caught, she would be dragged before a magistrate and sent to Newgate. Her sisters would be beside themselves.

Footsteps sounded closer. A man’s heavy breathing.

She looked again. And cried out in terror.

The Duke of Cameron was behind her.

“Got you!” he cried out, as he grasped her shoulder and whirled her to face him. His muscular frame towered above her, his face fierce, and satisfaction flashed in his black eyes. “Now you are mine. Body and soul.”

His black eyes licked over her like a candle flame. Her fear vanished beneath his heated gaze and her skin grew hot. She tossed a damp curl across her shoulder and met his stare. “Never!”

“Challenge accepted. I warn you that I intend to make love to you.”

His dark, compelling looks took her breath away. The tip of her tongue traced her lips in a provocative gesture. A thrill of satisfaction coursed through her when his pupils dilated and his fingers tightened on her shoulder. “It will be an epic battle,” she challenged.

“It’s good, then, that I’m a fierce fighter.”

He pulled her into his arms and captured her mouth with demanding mastery. Her lips clung to his and opened softly under the seductive pressure of his passionate kiss. His hands greedily explored her waist, her hips. She moaned, pressing her soft curves against the hard planes of his magnificent body.

He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “I hereby seize the prize.”

Chloe woke in a sweat. Her breathing was ragged and her heart thundered in her chest. What had started as a nightmare of being chased through the streets by a constable with a stolen pin in her pocket had turned into an erotic experience. She couldn’t believe how real it had seemed. Even now she could feel the strength of his arms, taste his kiss. She already thought of the duke more often than she’d like when she was awake.

Now, he’d invaded her dreams.

Chapter Eight

The hackney stopped before a red brick building with black shutters. Chloe peered out the window. A black sign with white letters read: Whitleson’s Home For Orphaned Girls. The orphanage was located in a part of the city that had once been affluent but now was run-down. In the distance a church bell tolled. Ever-present smoke from the London factories marred the sky. Stepping from the hackney, she made her way up the front steps and entered the building.

A heavyset woman with brown curls fading to gray came forward to greet Chloe. Mrs. Porter was one of the teachers and caretakers of the younger girls at the orphanage. “It’s good to see you back, Miss Somerton. I’m sure Emily will be pleased.”

“Emily is a sweet child. I’ve grown attached to her in my last few visits. How is her health?” Chloe asked.

A shadow crossed Mrs. Porter’s face. “Not well, I’m afraid. She remains listless and has little appetite. No one can explain the lethargy or the weakness in her limbs.”

Chloe’s chest tightened. “What does the physician say?”

“Dr. Evans visits every Wednesday, miss. He believes Emily is of a weak disposition and he warned that she may never grow to be as strong or healthy as the other girls.”

Chloe couldn’t accept such a diagnosis. Emily was too young, too lovely a child. “Perhaps another physician, then—”

Mrs. Porter wrung her hands. “I must wait until Mr. Whitleson returns. Now that his wife has passed away, he makes all the decisions regarding the staff and the finances for the orphanage.”

Chloe had never met Mr. Whitleson. Since her return to town from Huntingdon’s country estate, he’d been away. His wife had founded the orphanage. He took over afterward, but relied on Mrs. Porter and the other staff to provide the day-to-day care of the children. Still, he controlled the finances of the orphanage, and as such, she needed to speak with him regarding the services of the orphanage doctor.