Strathmere's Bride by Jacqueline Navin Read Free Book Online Page A

of disquiet followed him out of the kitchens as it had the last time he had conversedwith Chloe, in the nursery. He wondered if such a reaction were unavoidable with the capricious imp that held his nieces’ sanity in her slender, sensuously expressive hands.

Chapter Five
    C hloe prowled in her chamber that night, her thoughts tumbling one another in an agitated rush.
    How could she have thought there was wisdom and pain in the duke’s cold eyes? He was completely intolerable—scolding her like a wayward child herself, questioning her competence! The blundering, self-important, conceited…bore! She had thought there was a trace of humanity behind his supreme dukeness, but she had been mistaken, clearly.
    As the anger drained out of her, exhaustion descended. Cook, having heard of her disquiet, sent up a steaming teapot and a generous supply of shortbread, which was one of Chloe’s favorites. She curled up with a novel pilfered from the dowager duchess’s stash in the library, but soon dozed with it open on her lap.
    Rebeccah’s fitful cries woke her sometime after the hour of three. Chloe came to her feet before the last vestiges of her dream had cleared her head and moved with swiftness to the child’s bedside.
    In a firm, soft voice, she said, “Hush, Rebeccah,it is Miss Chloe here now with you. Everything is fine, ma petite. Hush, now.”
    She wrapped her arms about the wailing child and pulled her in tight against her breast. Rebeccah always resisted this at first. She grabbed fistfuls of Chloe’s nightrail in her little hands, pulling and punching, but the efforts soon grew weak. Her muffled cries subsided until at last she was at rest.
    Gently, Chloe laid her back in her bed. She looked at the small face—the pert nose, the thick fan of lashes against the rose-kissed cheeks, the pouty mouth hanging agape with the unselfconscious ease of childhood slumber. She was not the easiest child with which to contend, but Chloe loved her with a fierceness that made her soul ache. Needing to touch, she smoothed a hand over the limbs that were just now losing their babyish roundness as Rebeccah passed from infancy to childhood.
    Chloe spoke in a whisper as the child’s peace deepened. “Sleep, chérie, and dream of happy lands where knights ride in gleaming armor and ladies dance among perfect roses and all the dragons are slain, asleep forever. Dream of laughter and of those who love you, ma petite. Dream of good things, and love. Dream of love.”
    Rebeccah inhaled a trembling breath, releasing it slowly as she nestled deeper under the coverlet. Chloe smiled, reflecting that it was infrequent that Rebeccah stayed put for longer than a moment or two. A time like this—just the stillness of it—was precious.
    Suddenly, Chloe became aware of the fact that she wasn’t alone. Her gaze lifted to find the duke standing in the doorway.
    He was dressed in dark trousers, still crisp somehow despite the wilting weather and the late hour. His coat was off, however, and he stood in his shirtsleeves—a deplorable breach of propriety, but Chloe barely noted it, for it mattered not at all to her. She only thought it odd because it was so out of character for him.
    His hair was disheveled, and taken with the discarded tailcoat, signified he had been restless, perhaps bedeviled by irksome thoughts about a particular employee of his who was fond of storms and refused to bend to his indomitable will…
    “You have been there for all this time?” she asked, amazed she hadn’t been aware of him before.
    He gave a brief nod. “I was awake and roaming about. I heard her cries,” he said in a rough whisper. He stepped into the room, just two steps, and inclined his head to his niece. “Will…will she be all right now?”
    “She shall sleep until morning,” Chloe reassured him.
    “Every night this happens? That is what I was told.”
    “Yes, your grace.”
    She bowed her head, not wanting to look at him as he stood gazing down