Page 36 of The Duke Meets His Match

“Sorry, my lady. Let me see to you upstairs.”

As soon as Chloe’s bedchamber door closed, Alice asked, “What happened last night at Vauxhall Gardens? I overheard Lady Huntingdon say the duke had to leave early.” It had been Alice’s evening off, and Chloe hadn’t been able to explain.

“He did. But not for the reason I told everyone.”

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

“I was.”

Alice shot a brown upward. “And Lord Sefton?”

“Was watching Madame Saqui’s performance with the rest of the group.”

Her maid shot her a speculative look. “You had a secret rendezvous with the duke last night, didn’t you?”

Chloe shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that last night. I helped him then, but I saw him again this afternoon.”

Alice looked at her knowingly, then nodded. Thankfully, her maid never judged her. “I never thought Lord Sefton was a good match for you. You are too intelligent and strong-willed for him.”

“Neither is the Duke of Cameron. He had a seizure of sorts when the fireworks went off. I believe it took him back to the war and the horrors of cannon fire.”

Alice was silent for several seconds. “I’ve heard of soldiers returning from battle with illnesses of the mind. My cousin’s husband suffered ill effects after Waterloo.”

“What happened to him?”

“He went to an asylum. Everyone thought him mad. Last I heard he hung himself.”

Oh God. Chloe tired to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. Could that happen to Michael? How bad was his condition? She’d witnessed two events—both deeply unsettling. What if there were many others, even more debilitating? His servants had said he’d go for days without leaving the house. What if he was a danger to himself?

She refused to believe it.

“Our own cook’s husband also experienced something similar since the war. Not long ago, he woke up screaming from nightmares. Shook the servants’ quarters and scared me something fierce,” Alice said.

A question formed on Chloe’s lips when a knock sounded on the door. Alice opened it to find the butler in the doorway. “There is a gentleman caller here to see you, miss,” he said.

For a heart-stopping moment, Chloe thought Michael had followed her home. Did he feel honor bound to do the right thing after all? Her mind spun as she clutched the bedpost for support. Good grief, was he here to speak with Huntingdon?

“Who is it?” she said in a raw voice.

The butler watched her, a peculiar expression on his normally impassive face. Chloe resisted the urge to reach up and smooth her hair. She’d been careful to fix her hair in the hackney ride home, but without a looking glass who knew how successful she’d been?

“Lord Sefton. I put him in the drawing room.”

Chloe managed a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Her relief was short-lived and her heart began pounding anew in her chest. Henry was here? A feeling of dread swept over her. She hadn’t thought of him since she’d left Vauxhall Gardens last evening. She certainly hadn’t thought of him when she went to the duke’s home this afternoon.

She didn’t want to see him. Not now. Not after the exquisite afternoon she’d spent in Michael’s arms. She had to turn him down, but how? She couldn’t tell him the truth. She’d have to explain how she felt about him, that she thought fondly of him, but as a friend.

She took a deep breath. Best get the unpleasant business over with. “Please inform Lord Sefton I’ll be there shortly.”

Chloe waited until the butler closed the door before addressing Alice. “Quick. Help me change my clothes and repair my hair.”

Half an hour later, Chloe opened the drawing room door. Henry was looking out the window at the gardens below. Arms folded across his back, he looked handsome…and young. At the rustling of her skirts, he turned. His lips curled in a brilliant smile as he approached and took her hand. In her haste, she’d forgotten her gloves and he brushed his lips across her knuckles. He must have given his own gloves to the butler, and his fingers were smooth and cool, so different from the calloused, powerful hands of another.

“Chloe, you look lovely as always. Thank you for seeing me. I was told you’d returned from your afternoon visit to the orphanage.”

“Yes,” she lied. “There is a sick child I’ve grown very attached to. I look forward to visiting Emily as much as she anticipates my visits.”