Page 92 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

Henry complied, then turned back to face the room. “Miss Florentia Lytton lured me to a secluded terrace tonight under the pretense of bearing urgent news about Annabelle. Instead, she attempted to seduce me, and when I refused her advances, she tore her own gown. She prepared to?—"

“That’s not—you cannot—” Florentia stammered as she backed toward the window.

“Cannot what?” Annabelle’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her face was pale with shock. “Florentia, what did you do?”

Henry’s gaze never left Florentia’s face. “Tell them exactly what you said to me on that terrace. Tell them how you offered to make me forget your ‘stubborn, foolish sister.’”

Florentia’s composure cracked entirely. Her voice trembled—not with guilt, but with something darker.

“You don’t understand! You never have!” Her breath hitched. “Do you think I don’t see it? I took Philip, yes, but somehow, you still stand above me. You still have them all: Grandmother, society, even him.”

She laughed then, brittle and breathless. “How do you do it, Annabelle? Even after you turned him away, the Duke still looks at you as though he’d burn the world for you.”

Her face twisted in something like despair. “I’ve ruined everything for a man who wouldn’t have fought for me half as hard.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Henry felt something cold and deadly settle in his chest as he processed the full scope of Florentia’s manipulation.

“So, it was you. You poisoned her mind against me,” he said quietly. His voice carried a dangerous edge.

“She has always been too proud and stubborn! Even now, she goes about spreading her legs open for?—”

The crack of Lady Oakley’s palm against Florentia’s cheek echoed through the room like a gunshot.

“You will not speak of your sister in such terms,” the dowager said with icy precision as her small frame vibrated with outrage. “Not in my house. Not ever.”

Florentia pressed her hand to her reddening cheek, and tears finally spilled onto them. “You don’t understand?—”

“I understand perfectly.” Lady Oakley’s voice could have frozen hellfire. “You are a selfish, manipulative creature who has brought nothing but shame to this family.

The parlor door opened again, and Lord Oakley burst in. His face was flushed from running. “Marchwood! What is the meaning of this? Did you think I wouldn’t see you dragging her off? Why has my daughter been brought here against her will?”

“Your daughter,” Henry said with deadly calm, “attempted to entrap me into a compromising position tonight. When that failed, she was prepared to cry assault.”

“That’s impossible. Florentia would never?—”

“But you know that she would. Do you think I did not notice your too-obvious attempts at throwing your daughter at me?” Henry’s voice cut through Lord Oakley’s protests. “The same daughter who disappeared from London those years ago without explanation? Tell me, Oakley, where exactly has she been all this time? And why has she come back out of the blue?”

Lord Oakley’s face went ashen. “She was… visiting relatives. In the colonies.”

Henry scoffed, and the other man’s face flushed even redder.

“Papa, please—” Florentia began, but Henry’s sharp gesture silenced her.

“No more lies.” Henry’s gaze fixed on Florentia with predatory intensity. “Tell them the truth, Miss Florentia Lytton. All of it.”

Something in his tone seemed to break the last of Florentia’s resistance. Her shoulders sagged as the fight went out of her entirely.

“You know…I ran away with Philip,” she whispered, and the words were barely audible. “We lived in the Caribbean for two years. Beautiful house, beautiful clothes, servants, parties. Everything I’d dreamed of. Until Philip was shot dead in a gambling hell in Port Royal.”

Lady Oakley’s hand pressed to her heart. “Dear God.”

“His family cast me out immediately. No money, no protection, nothing. I barely managed to book passage back to England.” Florentia’s laugh was bitter and hollow. “I came back needing a husband, someone with wealth and position to save me from complete ruin. And there you were, Henry. You were the perfect solution.”

“I was sure I could lure you away from Annabelle,” Florentia spat the words as fresh tears streamed down her face. “I could see that you had feelings for her, but Annabelle… I knew she could be thwarted. She pretends to be so strong-willed and open-minded, but she has never truly fought for anything. She let me have Philip, and I was sure she’d let me walk away with you too, but?—”

“Enough.” Lady Oakley stepped forward as if to strike Florentia again, but Henry intervened.

“That’s quite enough truth for one evening.” His voice carried the full weight of his authority. He turned to Lord Oakley with a look that could have melted steel. “Your daughter will be removed from England within the fortnight, or I will see her confined to a convent for the remainder of her natural life. Those are her only options.”

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