Page 75 of Corrupting his Duchess
“Nothing of consequence,” she said smoothly.
CHAPTER 14
The morning had been full of half-finished goodbyes and the sound of trunks being dragged across polished floors. Servants moved with brisk purpose, the house pulsing with quiet farewells and the rustle of change.
Anna had watched it all unfold from the window of her chamber, unmoving. It was her last day at Yeats. And though she’d told herself she was ready, had even rehearsed the dignified smile, the words of gratitude, something inside her remained suspended, unwilling to unfasten.
The hedges rustled softly in the breeze as Anna walked beneath the long arch of ivy, gloved hands clasped before her. Her shoes crunched against the gravel path in an unhurried rhythm, and the hem of her walking dress caught faintly on a patch of dry rosemary. The garden looked golden in the light, but it did nothing to calm her thoughts.
She’d slipped out between the last of the murmured farewells, grateful for the excuse to step into sunlight. Her bonnet wassecured with a bow, her shawl lightly draped around her shoulders.
She told herself she was seeking air. Maybe even the quiet.
But in truth, she had come hoping, expecting even, that he would follow.
Her fingers grazed the tops of the hedges as she passed. She remembered, quite vividly, how reluctant she’d been to come here at all. A house party full of strangers, obligation, and finely veiled expectations had felt like a punishment at the time.
Now it felt like something else entirely and the thought of leaving it, of leaving him, unsettled her in ways she hadn’t prepared for.
She hated what Isaac had said. Detested it. The smugness, the implication that she was a pawn who’d finally learned to play the game. That her value rested in being noticed, or worse, defended by a man of title.
But still.
She turned her face slightly toward the house, remembering the flash of Henry’s expression. The arch of his brow. That ridiculously perfect gesture of fingers miming Isaac’s endless prattle.
He had made her laugh. Even then. Even with Isaac standing too close and speaking too low, his words like thorns.
And worse…worse than all of it, was the part of her that couldn’t forget what Isaac said. Not the insinuations. But the fact.
Henry had defended her.
Fiercely, by the sound of it. With heat, and conviction, and not the bare civility required of a host. He had stood between her and insult, and she hadn’t even asked him to.
She didn’t know what words he’d used. Only that they’d been strong enough to shake Isaac, who was rarely shaken by anything except the state of his accounts.
Anna wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her fingers cold despite the warmth in the air.
Her steps slowed as she reached a bend in the path, a gentle curve beneath a rose-covered trellis, where the late sunlight filtered gold through the leaves.
Faint breeze stirred the lavender near the hedge, releasing its scent. Somewhere behind her, a bee droned lazily in a blossom. The hush of the garden made everything feel louder, her thoughts, her heartbeat, the ache hammering away in her chest.
And there, without intending to, she stopped.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in that particular patch of garden because nothing had changed. The hedges were just hedges. The light was just light. But her body remembered it, that strange, charged pause where she’d nearly leaned forward too.
This was where it had happened. Or almost happened.
Where Henry had looked at her with that impossible softness, so unlike the man Society whispered about, and had leaned in, not with hunger, but with something that felt strangely like reverence.
It wasn’t just that he had nearly kissed her, it was how he’d stopped. How he hadn’t pressed or demanded, hadn’t turned the moment into something boastful. He’d only looked at her, as if he saw all of her, and still chose to be gentle. That, she hadn’t quite recovered from.
Now, standing in that same spot, the memory returned with startling clarity. The smell of the hedges. The scrape of gravel. The way her pulse had thudded so hard she thought he might hear it.
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing it in. The memories of his mouth hot against hers the night before caused her to pull her shawl tighter, her cheeks stinging with heat.
And then came Isaac’s voice again, lingering like smoke in her thoughts.You’ve made yourself valuable, Anna… He’s watching you. Protecting you.
She had never been a girl who waited for someone to arrive. She had been the one who stayed when others faltered. The one who calculated quietly, made the necessary arrangements, bore the unspoken weight. To wait for someone now—to want someone to come and not because they were expected but because they chose to, it felt like a luxury she didn’t dare call her own.
