Chapter Four
The night had been a disaster.
Chloe entered the servants’ entrance of Huntingdon’s town house and slipped up the stairs into her bedchamber. Her trusted maid, Alice, was sitting on the edge of the four-poster waiting for her.
Alice jumped to her feet as soon as Chloe shut the door. “Thank heavens! What took you so long?”
“I was delayed. Did anyone suspect I left the house?”
“Not a soul. Your sister and Lord Huntingdon believe you went to bed early with a headache.” Alice placed a nightgown on the bed and set to work unfastening the buttons on the back of Chloe’s dress. “What did the duke say?”
Chloe took a breath. “He believes I’m a fraud. He warned me to stay away from Henry.”
Alice’s fingers stilled on the buttons. “Lord!”
Alice was near Chloe’s age. She had been born and raised in the rookeries, and Chloe had met her when she and her sisters had no choice but to stay in St. Giles after their father’s abandonment. Only Chloe knew that Alice had worked in the Seven Sins brothel, not as a prostitute, but as a kitchen maid. No matter how open-minded Eliza was regarding aiding the servants, Chloe didn’t think she would agree to keep Alice on if she knew the full truth.
Her maid brushed a stray lock of brown hair from her cap. “Did he say anything else?”
Chloe shook her head. She’d never confess the duke had done more than speak with her. His unexpected kiss had unsettled her more than she liked to admit, and she needed time alone to think.
“What will you do?” Alice helped Chloe step out of the dress and then began to untie her stays.
Once her corset was removed, Chloe took a deep breath and slipped into her nightgown. “Nothing. I don’t think the duke will say anything. Cameron wouldn’t want to upset Henry so soon after the death of his father.”
“Even if the duke tells Lord Sefton that you picked pockets, you should feel no guilt. You chose to survive. There is no fault in that. You are a good woman, Chloe Somerton. If it wasn’t for your kindness and compassion, I’d be rotting in a St. Giles’s alley by now.”
Tears stung Chloe’s eyes, and she embraced Alice. “Thank you, Alice.”
“Now. None of that. Get into bed,” Alice said as she pulled back the covers to tuck Chloe in for the night. She extinguished the lamp, then opened the door. “Sweet dreams, Miss Chloe.”
In the dark solitude of her room, Chloe thought about her maid’s words.
Kind. Compassionate. Good.
She felt a nauseating despair. She wasn’t so sure Alice was right. After all, Jonathan Miller’s tainted blood ran through her veins.
Soon her thoughts turned to the duke, and she tossed and turned in bed as vivid memories of the battle-hardened man returned in a rush. She’d visited Cameron’s mansion because she had been hoping to reason with him, to admit to her past misdeeds, and assure him that she hadn’t participated in any illegal activities in years. She’d embarked on a new life long ago. She had no intention of hurting Henry or reverting to her old ways. But the duke refused to believe her.
In his mind, she was a criminal—no better than her own father.
Maybe he’s right.
Her stomach tilted. All she wanted was what countless debutantes at Almack’s desired and what her own sisters had obtained. A title. Wealth. A wedding band.
Security.
But fate had dealt her a different hand of cards. Her sins were different from her sisters’. Worse. It didn’t matter how much they had needed funds in the past. It didn’t matter that they’d been desperate because of her—because she’d been sick. She had taken her crimes a step…or several steps…further than Eliza and Amelia.
Her heart fluttered behind her breast. Instead of reasoning with the duke, she was now in a precarious position. And then he’d kissed her.
Never in her wildest dreams had she thought the press of his hard lips against hers would make her heart leap. The unexpected sizzling heat was as dangerous as it was unwanted. For a brief moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist, just the arousing caress of his kiss. Tingles had rushed through her and swept over her skin. Only a faint voice of reason kept her from clinging to his broad shoulders and pressing against his hard body.
What had come over her?
He was dangerous. Not only did she feel a sweeping pull low in her stomach when he touched her, but he knew part of her deepest secrets. And he’d threatened to reveal them.
Bloody hell. Sleep would be elusive tonight.
…
The following morning, Chloe was still tired as she descended the grand staircase. Images of constables chasing her through the city streets had haunted her dreams. The nightmare wasn’t unusual but—for the first time—it had changed last night. The constable’s face took on the darkly handsome image of the Duke of Cameron. She’d woken, heart pounding, a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. It had taken several minutes for the vision to fade and reality to return.
She yawned as her foot landed on the last step. Her nose twitched as the smell of coffee wafted to her. Thank the Lord.
She hurried to the breakfast room to find Eliza sitting at the table, a steaming plate of eggs before her, sipping a cup of coffee. Chloe glanced at a long sideboard holding chafing dishes of eggs, bacon, and rolls. Her stomach growled.
“Good grief, Chloe. You have dark circles beneath your eyes and you look like you haven’t slept in days.” Eliza set her cup on her saucer and stared at her sister.
“Good morning to you, too,” Chloe said.
“Are you well? Has your headache subsided?” Eliza’s brow furrowed in concern.
Most of the annoyance fled from Chloe at her sister’s look of concern. Chloe’s stomach dropped, and she knew Eliza worried she was ill.
Chloe smoothed her hair. “I’m fine. I just had trouble sleeping.”
“Again? Perhaps you should have Alice bring you a cup of warm milk tonight before you retire.”
“I’ll be sure to ask her.” Chloe doubted drinking warm milk would have helped her last night.
She picked up a plate and started filling it with poached eggs and bacon from the sideboard, then joined her sister at the table and spread her napkin on her lap. “Where’s Huntingdon?”
“He had an appointment. A new artist has a showing,” Eliza said.
Huntingdon was a renowned art critic. He’d also been fooled by their father, Jonathan Miller, the talented forger, years ago. But fate had been kind to the three sisters, and instead of seeking revenge against their father, Lord Huntingdon had fallen madly in love with Eliza and married her.
A liveried footman entered the breakfast room with a pot of coffee, and Chloe nearly wept with joy. “Thank you,” she said as the servant poured her cup.
Chloe picked up her fork just as the butler came forth carrying a silver salver. “These just arrived for you, my lady.”
Eliza took two letters and broke a red seal on the first one. “Why, it’s from Huntingdon’s aunt, Lady Holand, in Scotland. She must be in her mideighties. She needs a companion and wonders if I know a suitable young lady.”
Chloe sipped her coffee. “Doesn’t she live in the wilds of Scotland? That may be difficult.”
“Yes, but I will make inquiries for her.”
Eliza reached for the second letter and her face lit. “It’s from Amelia. She and Lord Vale plan to return from Hampshire next week.”
Chloe’s mood turned buoyant, and she smiled. “I know it has only been a month, but I miss her terribly.” Their middle sister, Amelia, had recently married the Earl of Vale and they’d been away at their Hampshire country home.
Amelia, unlike Eliza and Chloe, inherited their father’s ability to paint forgeries. When one of her forgeries suddenly became available at a viscount’s estate sale, the sisters had been in a panic. But it had attracted the attention of Lord Vale, who had been enamored of Amelia and had hired her to paint his portrait rather than turn her in to the authorities.
The identity of the sisters’ criminal father had been revealed to society, but two weddings to wealthy and influential earls had turned what would otherwise be outrageous scandals into romantic fairy tales.
But Chloe’s own secrets had remained undisclosed.
Until now.
Not for the first time, she wondered how much the Duke of Cameron knew.
Eliza set the letters aside and looked at Chloe. “Are you certain you are well? You seem anxious.”
“Forgive me. I’m just tired.”
Eliza brightened. “Perhaps Lady Webster’s garden party this afternoon will lift your spirits. She is revealing her new horticultural conservatory, and it should be a sight to see. You haven’t forgotten about it, have you? Young Lord Sefton will be in attendance.”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” It was another opportunity to flirt with Henry, to try to encourage his pursuit. If all went well, he’d soon officially court her.
Henry fulfilled all her requirements. Many people would disapprove of Chloe’s scheming for his title and wealth, but those people would never understand. They’d never known hunger or cold from lack of coal in the brazier. They’d never experienced a prolonged illness or an incessant cough that made their chest feel tight—as if their lungs were being held in someone else’s merciless grip.
A thought occurred to Chloe and she twisted her napkin in her lap. “Will the duke accompany Henry?”
Eliza’s brow furrowed. “I suppose. I’m told His Grace has taken Henry under his wing. Why?”
Chloe shrugged a shoulder. “Just curious.”
“Well, I’m impressed by the young Lord Sefton. Now that Amelia is married, my sole focus will be on finding you a good match,” Eliza said.
Eliza had always been earnest about matchmaking for her sisters. She’d been the one to look after them when their father had left. It was Eliza who had devised a new identity as a widow and opened the Peacock Print Shop, an establishment that sold paintings, prints, and bric-a-brac items. If it were not for Eliza’s sacrifice they would still be in St. Giles.
Chloe had never minded Eliza’s enthusiasm. But Chloe also knew what both Eliza and Amelia whispered about her every time she mentioned an eligible bachelor. She’s searching for a father figure after Father’s abandonment.
Chloe was the youngest, and thus, her memories weren’t entirely tarnished by her father’s foray into painting forgeries. Vague memories of him reading her bedtime stories lingered in her mind. They’d been close…and perhaps too similar.
The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the ailing tree.
Footsteps sounded outside the hall, and the butler entered the breakfast room for the second time that morning. “There is a delivery for you, Miss Chloe.”
Chloe set down her cup. “For me?”
“Yes, miss.”
Both sisters pushed back their chairs and followed the butler into the vestibule, where an enormous arrangement of hothouse lilies in a glittering crystal vase rested on a pedestal table.
Chloe gasped. “Oh my! Have you ever seen such lovely blooms?”
“Read the card,” Eliza prodded.
Chloe reached for the embossed vellum. For a heart-stopping moment, she wondered if the blooms were sent by the duke.
Don’t be ridiculous. There was nothing romantic about the Duke of Cameron. He had offended and insulted her, and then he had kissed her—not to seduce her or court her, but to prove his dominance and control, to prove that he would win in their battle of wills no matter the tactic chosen. If only she hadn’t felt a ripple of desire when he’d pressed his lips to hers.
She broke the seal, let the sheet of crisp paper unfold, and read out loud:
Dear Miss Somerton.
The beauty of these flowers is nothing compared to your own.
Yours truly,
Lord Sefton.
Eliza clasped her hands to her chest in delight. “How utterly romantic! The garden party shall be the perfect opportunity to further encourage the young earl’s pursuit.”
Chloe’s fingers tightened on the card. Her emotions vacillated between satisfaction and uncertainty. Her plans were coming to fruition. And if all went well, Henry would propose marriage before the end of the Season. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Then why did she keep remembering a single kiss from an infuriating duke?