Page 38 of Corrupting his Duchess
“Not with other people,” she admitted. “But with you…”
He waited.
“With you, I second-guess myself.” Her fingers twisted at the sash of her robe. “And I don’t particularly like it.”
“Nor do I,” he said, quietly.
That seemed to catch her off guard. She blinked. “You don’t?”
“No.” He moved a step closer, his expression unreadable but not cold. “I’ve been second-guessing myself all day. Possibly all week. And I make it a rule not to do so.”
“Ah,” she said lightly, “you must be terribly uncomfortable.”
“You have no idea.”
They stood there, the space between them small but charged, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
Anna looked away first. “I came to say something. But now that I’m here, I realize words are woefully inadequate.”
“That’s rather the curse of them, isn’t it?” he said. “They’re never enough when one needs them most.”
Her eyes met his again. “Then allow me to try anyway.”
He inclined his head slightly. “I’m listening.”
“I won’t stay long,” she said.
“I suppose that depends on how long it takes you to say what you came to say.” He gestured towards the settee beside him.
She didn’t sit. She barely moved, hands clasped in front of her like she might wring the courage from her fingers. “There’s been talk. About you. And me. About how… we’ve behaved.”
He looked amused. “We exchanged ten lines at a picnic.”
“That’s nine more than I should have,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.
“You came to apologize for that?”
“No,” she said. Then, “Yes. I don’t know. I came because… I need to be clear.”
“I know what they say about you, I came to say that… whatever this is, it cannot happen. You’ve made your intentions clear to the entireton.”
“Have I?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Everyone knows you won’t marry. And the entiretonknows it. Knows that any woman foolish enough to believe otherwise is courting heartbreak.”
His mouth tightened, not in anger, but something more complex. He said nothing.
She stepped closer, slow but sure, though her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown as if to anchor herself.
“I’m not foolish, Henry.”
He looked at her then, really looked, and something in his expression shifted. His voice was low, almost reverent. “Anna... I never took you for such.”
“I had to make that clear. To you. To myself.”
Her chin lifted, defiant even as her voice wavered. Henry stepped closer, not enough to touch, but near enough that she could feel the heat of him. His presence was overwhelming, and yet, maddeningly still.
“And you think,” he said quietly, “that a man incapable of marriage cannot want?”
