Page 10 of Corrupting his Duchess (A Duke’s Undoing #1)

A nna, still flushed from their exchange, felt a pang of discomfort as the others drifted back toward the blankets. She remained behind, turning slightly as if inspecting the meadow, needing the air—needing the space.

She had teased him. Too sharply. Too directly. And the way he'd looked at her—no longer amused but attentive, deeply, deliberately focused—it left a heat crawling under her skin.

She heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“You fled,” came Henry’s voice, low and quiet.

“I lingered,” she said, lifting her chin. “There's a difference.”

“Ah,” he said, stopping just beside her, “so you’re not avoiding me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace.”

He laughed once, a dry, velvet sound. “Is that civility I detect?”

She didn’t answer at first. The wind stirred between them. When she did speak, her voice was softer.

“I didn’t mean to offend you earlier. About being difficult to understand.”

“Didn’t you?” he murmured, studying her face.

She turned, finally, and found him much closer than she expected. “I was?—”

“Teasing?” he supplied.

Her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth, then snapped back up. “Yes.”

A long pause.

“It wasn’t untrue,” he said, his voice like molasses. “I am difficult. But not impossible. You only have to know where to look.”

She tried to steady her breathing. “And where is that, Your Grace?”

He stepped closer, enough that she could feel the warmth of him, enough that if she reached out, her fingers would find his lapel.

His voice dipped. “That is the question, isn’t it?”

Her heart beat too fast.

“People don’t usually speak to me the way you do.”

“I’ll try to be duller next time,” she said, but it came out breathless.

“Don’t,” he said at once. “I find it… inconveniently compelling.”

She shouldn’t have looked at him then—shouldn’t have met that look in his eyes—but she did. And it undid her. It wasn’t lust exactly. It was interest, intensity, and something rarer: restraint.

Her voice, when it came, was barely audible. “This is not wise.”

“Agreed.”

Still, he reached out—just a touch, a brush of his fingers at the edge of her sleeve. Not enough to be scandalous. Just enough to feel like a promise.

Anna’s breath caught.

“Your Grace…” It was meant as a warning. It sounded too much like a question.

He bent slightly, enough to murmur near her ear, “Say it again.”

“Your Grace,” she repeated—this time softer, shaped with something between defiance and surrender.

Their eyes met. She didn’t move away.

And then—slowly, carefully, as though giving her every chance to pull back—he reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment too long against her cheek.

Her lashes lowered. His hand stayed where it was.

“I should go,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” he said—not cruelly, just plainly. As though he already knew it.

But she did.

Anna drew in a breath, her eyes still locked with his. And then—slowly, as though her body argued with every step—she stepped back.

His hand fell away.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

She gathered the edge of her skirt with a steadying hand. “This isn’t a game I know how to play, Your Grace.”

“I’m not asking you to play,” he said quietly.

She hesitated—just long enough for him to see the war in her eyes—then turned, the scent of wildflowers and tension clinging to the air behind her.

He didn’t stop her.

Anna, sitting quietly beside Natalie, tried to focus on their voices, but her mind kept skimming back to Henry and worse, to the amused sparkle in his eyes when Julia teased them. She could feel it still, like warmth on her cheek. And his eyes on her.

Gretchen leaned toward Anna with the quiet precision of a practiced lady and murmured, “Walk with me.”

Anna blinked. “What?”

Gretchen was already rising, smoothing her skirts with that restrained elegance only a duke’s daughter could perfect. “Stretch your legs, Lady Anna.”

It wasn’t a request.

Anna stood, ignoring the heat still prickling her skin, and followed. They stepped away from the low chatter, past where the picnic rugs gave way to scattered trees and the sun pooled warmly through the leaves.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gretchen asked without preamble.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.” Gretchen cast her a glance, not judgmental, but shrewd. “The moment between you and Henry. Half the group was pretending not to watch, and the other half forgot to breathe.”

Anna groaned, pressing a hand to her face. “It wasn’t, We were only talking.”

“According to Julia, witty jabs delivered like courting birds, yes, I noticed.”

Anna dropped her hand, aghast. “Gretchen!”

“I am not incorrect.” Gretchen looked ahead. “It’s not my concern, only…” She paused, choosing her words. “You are not a girl prone to foolishness. You know what the season demands of you. What your family expects.”

“I do.”

“And yet,” Gretchen stopped beside a tree, hands clasped. “You are not composed around him.”

“I’m perfectly composed.”

“You flushed three times and looked at him like he set you on fire. That’s not composure, darling.”

Julia joined them, her eyes bright with interest, “If Duke Henry were any more obvious, we’d need smelling salts for half the unmarried girls in the county.”

Anna exhaled hard. The silence stretched.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said finally. “I wasn’t even meant to speak to him today. I’ve been trying to,” She stopped herself. “I’m supposed to focus on Lord Vaun.”

“Matthew didn’t even blink,” Gretchen said softly. “Which is worse, somehow. Either he didn’t care, or he’s very good at pretending.”

Anna swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. He’s a good match.”

“Besides we can't tell with Duke Henry and his dark gazes,” Gretchen rubbed her temple.

Julia snorted. “Please. He practically devoured her with his gaze.”

“Oh, do stop,” Anna muttered though her voice lacked conviction.

“You say stop, but your cheeks are going positively crimson.” Julia leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “That man looks at you like he’s planning some elaborate act of larceny. And you look like you might just let him steal everything.”

Anna shot her a look. “He doesn’t look at me like that.”

“Darling,” Julia said with mock-sincerity, “I am gifted with three things: a keen eye, an unfortunate lack of restraint, and the ability to spot mutual desire from even across a ballroom.”

After a beat, Anna pressed her lips together, then whispered, “I have to marry.”

“Yes.” Gretchen placed a gentle arm on Anna, “I see the way you behave with him, Anna, even if you pretend not to. But you still have a duty. We both do. I just... I want you to be happy, even inside the lines we’ve been drawn into.”

Julia watched her friend closely. “Well for me, just because you’re supposed to marry doesn’t mean you have to abandon the part of you that… burns. You think I don’t see it? You thrive on wit and challenge and people who don’t bow and scrape and call you ladylike. He sees it too.”

Anna blinked.

“And if it’s nothing,” Julia added, now dangerously serious, “then you’d best tell him. Before your names ends up linked in every drawing room in London.”

The silence that followed was short-lived. Julia smoothed her skirts, and added brightly, “Or just go to his room and kiss him like a villainess in a lurid French novel. Honestly, I support either option.”

“Julia!” Anna couldn't believe her ears and Gretchen’s cheeks went red.

Silence again. The wind stirred the hem of their dresses.

“I should say something to him,” Anna muttered.

Gretchen smiled faintly. “Then do.”

The sun had begun its slow descent by the time they returned from the picnic, golden light brushing over the windows of the country estate.

A tray had been set out in the smaller drawing room reserved for the ladies of the party with no footmen loitering, no gentlemen interrupting.

Bonnets were tugged off, gloves discarded, cheeks still pink from the sun.

Inside the drawing room, the ladies were scattered across chaises and armchairs, cooled by the open windows and murmurs of conversation, sipping cordial and pretending not to listen too closely to one another.

Anna sank into a settee beside Gretchen, willing herself not to replay the banter with Henry. Not to remember the way his mouth quirked when she teased him, or how her heart had stumbled when he shifted closer.

Lady Daphne fanned herself lazily. “Did you see the way Lord Weston tripped over his own boots at the croquet lawn? I daresay the mallet posed a formidable threat to his dignity.”

Lady Penelope, curled like a cat on the chaise, gave a sly smile. “Worse still, Miss Haverton rushed to help him up—as though they’d been secretly engaged for years.”

A round of genteel laughter followed, muffled behind fans and teacups.

Gretchen arched a brow. “Miss Haverton has been rushing rather ardently of late. First Lord Falmouth, now Lord Weston. Perhaps she’s merely in training for a husband.”

Laughter rippled gently through the room.

“I imagine Lord Weston's dignity is quite used to being threatened,” murmured Lady Penelope, her tone sugar-sweet.

Anna smiled faintly but did not comment.

Francesca, one of the ladies, perched like a songbird on the edge of her chair, sipped her cordial. “The day was full of little excitements. Or large ones, depending on one's vantage.” She tilted her head. “The Duke of Yeats, for instance, was in rare form.”

There it was.

Lady Daphne perked up. “Oh yes, quite spirited, wasn’t he? I heard Lady Anna managed to keep up with him admirably.”

Of course, the room wasn’t about to let her forget.

“Did you see the way he looked at her?” Lady Daphne a few seats away fanned herself slowly, more for drama than heat. “Honestly, I thought he was going to devour her right there beside the fruit tarts.”

Anna’s spine stiffened. Her fingers laced tightly in her lap, the skin at her knuckles pale.