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“ W hat are you doing?” she gasped. Her tone was shrill. She stumbled slightly as he guided her down a set of stone steps toward a side entrance.

“Taking you home,” he replied grimly. “To your grandmother, where you can explain this evening’s entertainment to someone who might actually believe your performance.”

“You cannot—this is kidnapping!”

“This is preventing a scandal, which I suspect was never your true intention anyway.”

He kept his grip on her wrist firm but careful, ensuring he left no marks that could be used as evidence of rough handling. His mind worked furiously as he calculated the best way to extract them both from this situation with minimum damage.

The side entrance led to a narrow alley where his carriage waited. Henry had learned long ago to always have an escape route at such gatherings, though he’d never expected to need it quite like this.

“Thompson,” he called to his driver. “Lady Oakley’s townhouse, quickly and quietly.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

As the carriage pulled away from the gathering, Florentia finally seemed to grasp that her scheme had failed completely. She sat pressed against the opposite seat, her torn sleeve clutched dramatically to her chest, and her eyes bright with unshed tears of frustration.

“You’ve ruined everything,” she whispered.

“No,” Henry replied quietly, watching the darkened streets pass by outside the window. “I’ve simply refused to be another casualty of your ambitions.”

Florentia looked rightly enraged. Her chest heaved, but she seemed to realize that there was nothing she could do short of jumping out of the rolling carriage.

“You cannot truly mean to drag me inside like some common criminal!” Florentia’s voice cracked with desperation as Henry’s carriage drew to a halt outside Lady Oakley’s townhouse.

“I mean to see this finished properly,” Henry replied, his tone brooking no argument as he helped her down from the carriage. “Your performance tonight requires an audience capable of appreciating its true nature.”

The butler who answered Henry’s urgent knock took one look at the Duke’s thunderous expression and Florentia’s disheveled state before stepping aside without question.

“Where is Lady Oakley?” Henry demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

“In the parlor with Miss Lytton, Your Grace. Shall I?—”

“No need.” Henry strode toward the parlor, maintaining his firm grip on Florentia’s wrist. “Send word to Lord Oakley immediately. Tell him his daughter requires his immediate attention at this address.”

The parlor doors burst open with enough force to rattle the hinges. Annabelle, who had been seated beside her grandmother near the fire, shot to her feet in alarm.

“Henry! What on earth—” She broke off as she took in Florentia’s torn sleeve and wild appearance. “Florentia? What’s happened?”

“Your sister,” Henry said grimly, finally releasing Florentia’s wrist, “has just attempted to orchestrate a most elaborate scandal.”

Lady Oakley’s sharp eyes took in the scene with the practiced assessment of a woman who had survived decades of society intrigue. “Close the door, Your Grace. Whatever this is about, it requires privacy.”

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.”

“Now see here, Marchwood?—”

“No, you see here.” Henry’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

“Your daughter attempted to entrap me into marriage through false compromise and just confessed to abandoning her family for an illicit affair that ended in scandal. She will leave England or disappear into a religious order. I care not which.”

“Papa, you cannot let him—” Florentia grabbed at her father’s arm, but he shook her off as his lips turned down in irritation.

“You’ve brought shame to this family,” Lord Oakley said heavily. “I won’t let you destroy what little reputation we have left.”

“Papa!” Florentia screeched, betrayal rife in her tone.

“One more thing—” Henry’s voice stopped Lord Oakley as he moved to collect his daughter. “You will apologize to Annabelle. You will make amends for every slight, every criticism, and every moment you’ve made her feel less than worthy of your affection.”

“I hardly think?—”

“Now.” The single word carried the full force of ducal command.

Florentia opened her mouth to protest, but Lady Oakley’s raised hand silenced her immediately.

Lord Oakley’s shoulders sagged as he turned to face his eldest daughter. “Annabelle, I… forgive me. I’ve been blind, and foolish, and allowed my disappointment in one daughter to poison my relationship with the other. You’ve never deserved the coldness I’ve shown you.”

Annabelle swallowed. She stood up a bit straighter and pulled her shoulders back. “Father…”

“I hope someday you might find it in your heart to forgive an old fool.” His voice was thick with shame as he continued. “I hope we might find our way back to being a family again.”

“I will…I will think about it.” Her tone was stiff with suppressed emotion.

Lord Oakley nodded curtly to Henry, then took Florentia’s arm. “Come. We have arrangements to make.”

“Papa, you can’t just obey whatever he-”

“Silence! Don’t you know how much trouble you are in now?”

As father and daughter departed, squabbling, Lady Oakley moved toward the door with surprising speed for a woman of her years.

“Grandmother, where are you going?”

“To my chambers,” the dowager replied firmly. “You two have much to discuss, and I’ve no intention of chaperoning this conversation.” She paused at the threshold. “I expect a resolution to this situation by morning.”

The door closed with a decisive click, leaving Henry and Annabelle alone in the sudden, overwhelming silence.

He watched as Annabelle stood frozen beside her chair. Her hands trembled as if she were struggling to process everything that had just unfolded in front of her.

“I cannot believe… all this time, she was…” Her words trailed off, and she pressed her fingers to her lips.

“Annabelle.” Henry moved toward her slowly as if approaching a frightened deer. “Look at me.”

She raised tear-bright eyes to his face. “I didn’t think she would actually go after you.”

“I know that.”

Annabelle shook her head. “I…I thought staying away from you would protect you and Celia. I…I didn’t think she would …I mean, I guess I should have known. I’ve been such a fool.” The words came out as barely a whisper.

“No.” Henry reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands. “You are no fool. Your sister has tried to make you feel defeated. The fault lies entirely with her.”

“But I let her words influence me. I let her words cast a shade of doubt over everything…”

“And now?” His thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to fall. “What do you believe now?”

Annabelle searched his eyes. She saw nothing but fierce, unwavering devotion reflected at her. “I believe I’ve wasted too much time listening to fear instead of my heart.”

“Then listen to your heart now,” Henry said, his voice rough with emotion.

“Because mine is telling me that I would face every scandal in London ten times over if it meant having you by my side. You have changed me, challenged me, and made me want to be better than I ever thought possible. I simply cannot imagine a future without you in it. And society can go to hell if they have anything to think about it.” The vehemence in his voice made her gasp.

“I don’t want their expectations or their approval.

I don’t want anything but you, Annabelle. Just you, exactly as you are.”

He dropped to one knee beside her chair and took her trembling hands in his. “Please, marry me. Not because it’s practical or expected, but because I love you beyond reason and cannot bear the thought of living without you.”

“Henry…” Her voice broke on his name.

“Marry me, Annabelle Lytton,” he repeated. His eyes blazed with desperate hope. “Let me spend the rest of my life proving that you are everything I could ever want.”

Instead of answering with words, Annabelle leaned forward and captured his lips with hers. The kiss was hungry. It was full of months of suppressed longing and the sweet relief of finally surrendering to the inevitable.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Henry rested his forehead against hers.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes, to everything.”