Page 28 of The Duke Meets His Match

“Tell me the truth,” he demanded.

“I am. You didn’t harm me in any way. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

He let out a long breath. “I need to leave.”

“It’s all right. It’s only me. No one else is here,” she said.

“You don’t understand. I need to leave this place. Now.” His tone was harsh.

She knew men disliked displaying weakness of any kind—especially a former army officer like the Duke of Cameron. “I’ll help you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No one must see.”

“No one will. I promise. I’ll tell Henry and the others you had to leave.” She took his arm, but he remained unmoving.

“You can trust me. Come.”

Several seconds passed and she thought he’d ignore her, but then he nodded. Together they began to make their way along the graveled path toward the pavilion.

She glanced at his profile. “If anyone is watching, it will appear as if you are taking me on a stroll through the gardens.”

He didn’t argue, and she sensed he was still coming out of his episode. What had he witnessed in battle to make him react so violently to the fireworks? Fellow soldiers wounded or dying? Or was he seeing the faces of the enemy soldiers he’d killed? Pity squeezed her heart.

By the pavilion, a thick crowd remained, all talking about Madame Saqui’s fascinating show. Many were drunk on the potent Vauxhall punch. No one paid them any notice. Chloe led Michael to where several boats waited. Thankfully, the docks were empty. All the revelers were still enjoying the gardens. She spotted the ferryman who had rowed them across the Thames, the soldier with the wooden leg.

“His Grace is unwell and needs to get back to his carriage quickly,” she instructed.

The ferryman took one look at the duke, then exchanged a knowing glance with her. Blessedly he understood. “Aye, miss.”

Michael halted beside the boat and turned to her.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” she said.

He raised her arm, but rather than kiss the top of her hand, he turned it over to place a warm kiss in the center of her palm. Her body responded instantly—warming and tingling all over. Her breath came short and fast. When he lifted his head, she saw a need so great in the dark depths of his eyes that she sucked in a breath.

“Thank you,” he murmured, then turned and stepped into the boat.

Chloe waited until the craft took off down the Thames before her pounding heart settled to a normal beat. She closed her fingers, as if she could capture and hold his kiss in her palm. They’d shared an experience tonight that had brought them closer. It wasn’t just physical, but a deeper connection that she would find hard to forget.

She couldn’t help but wonder if he experienced the trauma of the war often. It wasn’t as if fireworks were a daily form of entertainment in London. But still, what if he’d been alone? Who would have helped him? She ached with an inner pain at the thought of such a strong, powerful man alone and tormented.

Her thoughts were interrupted when an amorous couple wandered onto the docks, seeking a ferryman to take them across the Thames to their waiting carriage.

Chloe returned to the gardens and wove through the boisterous crowd. As soon as she stepped into the supper box, Lady Willowby was upon her. “Where’s His Grace?”

Chloe looked the woman straight in the eye. “I saw him on the way to the entrance. He said he had to leave.”

“Leave?” The widow’s lips puckered with annoyance.

“He mentioned meeting a former soldier he hadn’t seen in years.” It was the best lie Chloe could concoct on short notice.

Henry waved a hand. “It’s understandable. The duke is a war hero, after all. But I say we should enjoy our remaining time in the gardens together.” He plucked a glass of arrack punch from a server’s tray and offered it to Lady Willowby.

Lady Willowby took the glass, then eyed Henry with renewed interest. A coy smile curled the corners of her painted lips. “A splendid idea, Lord Sefton.”

Eliza took Chloe’s arm and pulled her aside to whisper in her ear. “Lady Willowby has been in a sour mood ever since the duke disappeared. I suspect she is unaccustomed to being ignored, and she will be out for her next prey. Watch Lord Sefton, my dear. Now that the duke is gone, I fear she will attempt to charm your earl.”

Chloe’s throat seemed to close up. The notion of Henry with Lady Willowby should bother her, but her thoughts were not where they should be. Rather, she couldn’t stop thinking of the troubled duke who would undoubtedly suffer alone for the rest of the evening.