Page 59 of The Duke Meets His Match

Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew they were treading on dangerous ground. The risks were high. Discovery. Scandal. Ruin. But her inhibitions dissipated beneath the onslaught of his kiss…his touch…this aching need.

“Yes,” she murmured against his skin. “Please don’t stop.”

His deep growl reverberated inside her.

The door slammed against the wall.

Michael pushed her behind him, shielding her with his frame. She was slower to come to her senses and realize someone else was in the room.

Dear God.

She peeked around Michael’s broad shoulders to see Henry standing in the doorway. Henry, with his fair complexion—paler than she’d ever seen him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Henry’s wide eyes focused on them. “Christ!”

Chloe’s heart thundered. “I’m so sorry…I wanted to tell you—”

“What? That you’ve been having an affair with the duke?” A sudden thin chill hung on the edge of his words.

“Henry,” Michael said, his voice low but carrying a distinct warning.

“It isn’t what it seems,” Chloe blurted out.

Henry laughed, a high-pitched cackle that caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms. “What else could it be?”

How could she explain? She wasn’t having an affair with the duke. Rather, she’d fallen in love with Michael. Madly in love.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Michael raised a hand. “We shall talk about this later, Henry. Right now, we need to leave before anyone else finds us.”

Henry didn’t seem to hear. His gaze was focused on her. “You behave the harlot for the duke.”

Her stomach tilted. Her legs felt weak, and she would have fallen if her back wasn’t pressed against the wall for support.

“That’s enough,” Michael said tersely, his voice cold and clipped, and she saw a flash of the military commander in the harsh set of his jaw and the menacing look in his eyes. “Let’s go, Henry.”

“No, why should I? Perhaps I should call for Lady Huntingdon and enlighten her as to her sister’s wanton behavior.”

Michael’s jaw tensed. “Listen to me, Henry. Chloe and I are to be married.”

Astonishment crossed Henry’s features. “Married?”

“I didn’t want you to learn of it this way. I am truly story for not telling you sooner, but yes, we have decided to wed,” Michael said.

Henry’s shock yielded quickly to fury, and he glared at Chloe. “This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? You’d be a duchess, far better than a countess as my wife.”

“No!” she cried out. “I never meant to hurt you. I planned on telling you in the gardens tonight and explaining everything.”

Henry’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “I don’t believe you or any of this.” His lips thinned with anger. “Need I remind you, Your Grace, of the past?” He reached inside his waistcoat and withdrew a piece of parchment. From a distance, it appeared stained with dark ink.

“You gave this to me when you returned from Waterloo, and I carry it with me everywhere I go. You recognize it, don’t you?”

A strange look crossed Michael’s face. His mouth opened and closed, but he seemed to struggle to form a response.

“You must recognize the bloodstain. It was because of you,” Henry said tersely, “that my father lies in a cold grave.”

With pulse-pounding awareness, Chloe realized that the parchment was a letter—the letter Lord Sefton had carried on his person when he was killed saving Michael’s life. The stain wasn’t ink but dried blood.