Page 48 of The Duke Meets His Match

She’d finally fallen asleep only to wake at dawn in a sweat. Heart pounding, she kicked aside her twisted sheets and sat on the edge of her bed. Despite the risks, she’d made up her mind to try to help the Duke of Cameron.

Chloe slipped out of bed, stuffed her feet in slippers, and summoned her maid. She dressed quickly in a demure blue gown with embroidered rosettes at the bodice and hem. It was Thursday, her day to visit the orphanage, but for the first time she felt a pressing need to visit another destination first. A short carriage ride later, she arrived at the Berkeley Square mansion.

Her knock was answered quickly. Surprisingly, the duke’s butler, Hodges, did not look down on her with haughty disdain when he opened the door to find her on the doorstep.

“Good day, miss,” he said as he held the door open for her.

She marveled at the butler’s change in demeanor. He was quite hospitable and treated her with respect, but when she handed him her cloak, something about his expression gave her pause. He opened his mouth, then shut it, as if unsure what to say, when the housekeeper, Mrs. Smith, walked into the vestibule, followed by an older gentleman with bushy eyebrows and a slightly protruding brow. He was carrying a black bag.

“Miss Somerton! It’s good to see you.” Mrs. Smith turned to the man by her side. “This is Dr. Graves, the duke’s physician. Doctor, this is Miss Somerton.”

Apprehension made the hair on Chloe’s nape rise. Was someone in the household ill? Was it Michael?

Dr. Graves acknowledged Chloe with a brief nod. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Somerton. Please excuse me, as I have another appointment this morning.” Hodges offered his hat and cane, and the physician departed.

“It’s good you’re here,” Mrs. Smith said.

The knot in Chloe’s stomach tightened. Something was amiss. “Is the duke well?”

Mrs. Smith lowered her voice. “He’s had another fit. We summoned Dr. Graves straightway. He left a sedative, but the duke refuses to take it.”

Chloe stepped toward the winding staircase that led to the second floor.

“He’s not in his bedchamber, miss,” the housekeeper said. “He’s in his study, and he refuses to leave and barks at anyone who tries to enter.” She wrung her hands. “He’s a good man, but he threatened to sack any member of the staff who disturbs him, and we’re fearful of him when he has these tirades. It’s almost as if he still thinks he’s fighting the war.”

Chloe wasn’t entirely certain what the housekeeper meant. How could the duke’s staff believe he thought he’d returned to war? Had he donned his uniform, loaded his pistols? Was he marching back and forth across the room?

“I’ll see to him,” Chloe said.

Hodges stepped forward, but Chloe raised a hand. “I know the way, and it’s best if I’m alone.” She hurried down the hall. She knew exactly where the study was, since it was where she first met Michael when she’d visited his home weeks ago.

She reached the door and rapped on the wood. No response. She rapped again, louder this time. When there still was no reply, she opened the door and swept inside, bracing herself for the worst.

She halted midstep.

Sweet Lord. The room was ransacked. Unrolled maps of varying sizes lay on every inch of the Oriental carpet. Books were scattered across the floor in what appeared to be a haphazard pattern. Some were open, others closed. A large globe was removed from its stand and rested on the floor in the corner. Glasses from the sideboard littered the floor as well. At first she thought the books had been carelessly tossed onto the carpet from the bookshelves, but she realized they were strategically placed on the curled edges of the maps to prevent them from rolling. The globe and the glasses were also used to keep the papers flat. The longest map was splayed across the large mahogany desk.

Michael stood behind the desk, palms flat on the surface as he studied the map like a general before a major battle. He was dressed in shirtsleeves—his cravat, jacket, and waistcoat strewn across a chair. He looked up at her intrusion, his sharp, dark eyes assessing her in a way that made her nerves flutter in her stomach.

“Your butler told me I could find you here. Please don’t blame the man for not announcing me,” she said.

His mouth twisted wryly. “Ah, it seems you have charmed my staff. Why am I not surprised?”

“They are concerned,” she replied.

His eyes flashed in a familiar display of impatience. “Are they? Can’t a man seek some peace in his own home?”

“Quiet is one thing. Hours alone and threatening to dismiss your servants when they are genuinely worried for you is another thing entirely. They summoned Dr. Graves. He left a sedative.”

“I don’t need a damned sedative,” he said in a harsh, raw voice.

“They believe you are reliving the war,” she said softly. “Has something triggered another episode?” She feared he would force her to leave, but he raised his hand and pointed to the map before him.

“See for yourself.”

Every inch of him looked hard and merciless. Gathering her courage, she approached and looked down at the map spread across the massive desk. Light and dark pencil markings were drawn across the map along with hand-written notes in small, neat print. She leaned closer and read the names of two villages south of Brussels. “What is this?”

“It shows the battle plans that day,” he said.