Page 48 of Corrupting his Duchess
“I like when people see past the performance. And stay anyway.”
Henry paused, her words settling over him like a hush. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected her. He glanced at her,careful to keep his expression neutral, though something in his chest twisted.
“You have a habit,” he said lightly, “of saying rather disarming things when a gentleman is least prepared for them.”
She turned toward him, her eyes bright with mischief. “I should hate to be predictable.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That, Lady Anna,” he murmured, “is the one thing you have never been.”
He glanced sideways at her, studying her profile. “And what have you observed about me, Lady Anna? When I thought no one was paying attention?”
Anna didn’t answer right away. She plucked a sprig of lavender from the hedge, rolling it between her fingers. “You carry your charm like armor,” she said quietly. “Polished and perfectly fitted. But I’ve seen the cracks in it.”
Henry raised a brow. “Cracks?”
She looked up at him. “You ask questions you already know the answers to, just to see if people will lie to you. You disappear when things grow too quiet, like you’re afraid of what silence might reveal.”
The words landed softly, but they lingered like smoke. He didn’t deny them.
Instead, he asked, “And do you make a habit of watching men that closely?”
“Only the ones who confuse me,” she replied, gaze unwavering.
A beat passed between them, too loaded to be innocent, too new to be entirely safe.
Henry swallowed. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”
Anna gave a half-smile. “Not brave. Just tired of pretending, like you.”
“Your cousin was looking for you earlier,” he said, hoping his voice sounded steady.
She gave a small nod. “I imagine he has something important to insist upon.”
Henry glanced at her. The fatigue in her posture hadn’t escaped him. “I was going to mention earlier, you seemed... out of sorts this morning, after our meeting in the library.”
She turned, her expression composed but her eyes sharp with quiet exhaustion. “It is exhausting to listen to men who speak of marriage as if it were a contract for acquiring horses.”
He huffed a humorless laugh. “In fairness, some horses are more agreeable than most of the people I know.”
That drew a faint smile. “Then you move in dreadful company.”
He toyed with the edge of his glove. The question pressed at him, one he’d kept to himself for days. “Why do you let him speak to you like that? Your cousin.”
Her gaze met his, steady and unflinching. “Because he has the power to make things worse. For my sister. For my mother.” She lifted her chin. “I do not say nothing because I am weak, Your Grace. I say nothing because I am cornered.”
Something shifted in him then, it was quiet and uninvited. He’d always noticed she was lovely, of course. But now, in the golden hush of the afternoon, with her chin lifted in defiance and her eyes clear with quiet resolve, she was something more. Strong. Unyielding, even when cornered. And it struck him, not all at once, but like the slow bloom of warmth through cold fingers, that he didn’t just admire her. He was beginning to care. And that, somehow, felt far more dangerous.
CHAPTER 9
The sun began dipping low, casting a honeyed glow over the grounds. The air was thick with the scent of blooming roses and the murmur of evening guests. For a moment, all seemed still, just the two of them.
Anna’s fingers traced the carved wood absently, eyes distant yet somehow inviting, fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake beyond the garden.
“I could sit here forever,” she murmured.
Henry glanced at her, heart tightening. He wanted to say something, to hold the moment, but he didn't.
She bent discreetly to unbutton her shoes, slipping them off gently before setting them neatly beside her. The toes of her stockings skimmed the cool surface of the lake, a quiet rebellion wrapped in elegance.
