Page 21 of Corrupting his Duchess (A Duke’s Undoing #1)

His smile sharpened. “You’ve already been seen walking with him. Alone. One more slip might be all it takes.”

Anna said nothing at first. Her hands trembled where they gripped the edge of the balustrade. She blinked hard, but a tear slipped free anyway.

Then…quietly, steadily, Anna's voice was like glass when it finally came. “I will not be your pawn, Isaac. Neither will Heather. Not for you. Not for this estate. And certainly not for some scheme to secure your name in the clubs.”

“Think carefully,” he didn't blink. “You don’t have the luxury of pride.”

She looked at him and for a breathless, appalled moment, she couldn’t even speak.

There was no mask left. No false civility to soften it.

He was using her. And he was willing to use Heather too.

The cold disgust rose like bile in her throat. She had been angry with him before, wary, even insulted, but now, standing here with his words still echoing in her ears, she felt something far darker.

“You are unrecognizable,” she said quietly. “Whatever you once were, it’s long gone.”

He smirked. “What I am is realistic.”

“No. What you are is disgusting.”

He took a step forward. “You forget yourself.”

“I’ve had enough words from you, I think.”

She turned, her face unreadable, but her pace swift and unhesitating. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch.

But just before she reached the end of the corridor, his voice followed her, low, measured, and unmistakably cutting.

“You can walk away from me, Anna. But you won’t walk away from what I can do.”

She paused. Then she turned slowly to face him.

Isaac stood a few paces back in the corridor, perfectly still, perfectly composed. His eyes held none of the warmth they used to, not that there had ever been much.

Isaac’s smile was almost pitying. “You did well enough while it was convenient. But the estate doesn’t belong to you anymore, Anna. It never did. You were standing in until someone with the right name returned to claim it.”

Her throat tightened. “I held this place together when no one else would. When my father was absent. When the tenants had no coal. No food. No voice.”

“And now they do,” he said, evenly. “Mine.”

“You treat them like burdens. Like ledgers to balance.”

“I treat them like responsibility, not sentiment,” he snapped. “The kind that requires decisions, not feelings.”

Her jaw clenched. “I know every family in Branton Hollow by name. I’ve sat at their tables. I’ve wept with their widows. What have you done?”

“I’ve kept them housed,” he said coldly. “I’ve stopped selling off livestock at a loss. I’ve ensured Stenton doesn’t embarrass itself in town.”

“You’ve wrung it dry.”

“I’ve kept it afloat,” he said. “And you, if you had an ounce of sense, you’d see that marrying the Duke could secure all of it. Permanently.”

She looked away for a moment, gathering herself. “You want his title. His reach. His fortune.”

Isaac’s tone was too smooth to be casual. “I want whatever will keep Stenton from becoming a cautionary tale.”

Her gloves tightened at her sides.

She took a step forward. “I did everything I could. The coal venture you're chasing now, the one you're so eager to pitch to anyone willing to listen, I found it. I wrote the first reports. I met with the broker in Leeds. You said it was too risky.”

He said nothing at first.

But there was a flicker, barely a twitch in his jaw, a shift in his stance.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

“And now you’re ready to sell it off,” she added, quieter now. “So long as it doesn’t come with my name attached.”

“You didn’t act on it,” he muttered.

“I wasn’t given the authority,” her voice quieter still. “I gave you the work. You took the credit.”

He gave a low laugh, “You were speculating on possibility. I made it presentable.”

“You mean profitable,” she replied.

“Exactly. Look, I want Stenton strong. And if you won’t help secure it, I’ll find another way.”

He said it as though it was a reasonable conclusion. A simple transaction. A duty she ought to perform with gratitude.

She said nothing because she understood now…fully, that nothing she gave would ever be enough for him.

She turned again, slower this time.

Then she kept walking.

Her steps echoed down the corridor, brisk and steady.

Only when she reached the gallery did she stop, just briefly.

She pressed her palm to the cold stone balustrade, her breath shallow.

She would not cry. She would not turn back.

Somewhere in the house, a clock struck eleven.

She closed her eyes.

She still had one decision left to make tonight. She rested against the cool wall at her back..

She didn’t know how long she stood there, fingers pressed to the stone wall, but her breath was shallow, and her chest burned. The corridor behind her was empty. But inside her, everything felt blisteringly full. Too much. Too loud. Too tight.

Her hand dropped and clenched at her sides, the ache under her skin unbearable.

All she wanted to do was to find Henry. To feel his mouth on hers.

To do something reckless…something alive, if only once in her life.

She wanted to taste the tension that had been simmering between them for days and tear down every inch of distance they’d politely maintained.

She straightened, wildness surging hot in her blood.

“Anna?”

The voice made her flinch.

It was Julia’s voice, soft for once, lacking its usual flair.

Anna turned her head slowly, spine straight, jaw tight. The urge still burned under her skin, furious and aching. But she pushed it down. Swallowed it whole.

She didn’t answer, but the footsteps came anyway, light and familiar. Julia appeared at her side, followed closely by Gretchen, whose expression was unreadable, and Natalie, who stood quietly beside her sister.

“We’ve been looking everywhere,” Julia said, brushing Anna’s arm gently. “Come.”

They led her to a nearby antechamber off the gallery, where the fire had been left to smolder low and the curtains were drawn against the night. Candlelight flickered in a wall sconce, casting soft gold over the silk of their sleeves and the lines of Anna’s tightly folded hands.

Julia said with concern, “Sit. Speak. We are not gentlemen. You do not have to pretend with us.”

Anna didn’t sit until they coaxed her to it, and even then, her posture was brittle. Her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

“No, you’re not,” Gretchen replied. “And that’s allowed.”

Gretchen spoke first, her voice low. “Was it Lord Stenton? We saw him talking to you, did he threaten you?”

Anna exhaled slowly. “He reminded me what I owe. What I was meant to become.”

Julia gave a quiet, sharp laugh. “I hope you told him the many places where he could insert his idea of duty.”

“I told him I wasn’t for sale,” Anna said.

“That sounds very like him,” Julia muttered, her fan snapping closed. “As if you were a coin to be traded.”

Gretchen’s brow furrowed, but her voice remained even. “He’s trying to corner you into something. Something he’s already decided is good for him.”

Julia leaned in, her tone softer now. “What did he say exactly?”

Anna looked down, blinking fast. “He wants me to marry Henry. He said marrying well was my duty.”

They were silent for a breath.

“He reminded me what's at stake, he said it would help everyone, my mother, Heather, the estate. That if I ruin this… if I let this opportunity slip, he’ll consider…alternatives.”

Gretchen paled, “Alternatives?”

“Marrying Heather off instead. To someone…unsuitable. The Marquess of Bellcliff.”

Natalie’s quiet gasp broke the silence. Her wide eyes found her sister’s, but she said nothing.

“That odious old man, he's fifty-five. He wouldn't,” Julia gasped.

“He would,” Anna said. “Just to prove he can.”

“I can’t let him do that,” Anna continued, her voice breaking. “She’s just seventeen, Heather deserves time. And choice. And I’ve already sacrificed everything I could to keep us together.”

Then Julia stood abruptly. “I think I need a biscuit before I start flinging chairs. Anyone else?”

Natalie wiped her cheek and nodded. “Two, please.”

As Julia swept off, Gretchen bent closer, her voice low. “Which brings us to the Duke,” she said carefully, “Anna… whatever spark there is between you, and yes, we all see it, now is not the time.”

Anna stiffened slightly, murmuring quietly “I know what you’re going to say,”

“Then I’ll say it anyway,” Gretchen said. “Avoid him. For now. For your sake.”

Julia said, taking her seat on the rug, “It hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the Duke of Yeats has taken a distinct interest.”

Gretchen glanced at her, then back at the fire. “It’s not judgment, Anna. It’s concern.”

“He’s been kind,” Anna said, quieter now. “More than most.”

“I believe it,” Gretchen said. “But kindness isn’t permanence. He is a duke and dukes don’t marry for affection. Not often.”

Julia’s voice was gentler than usual. “That’s true, Anna. His world isn’t ours. If you were anyone else, I might say lean into it. But you’re exhausted. Wounded. And we’ve seen what happens when men like him grow bored.”

Anna’s throat tightened. “He wouldn't.”

“But this isn’t just him,” Gretchen said. “It’s the timing. It’s Lord Stenton. It’s what you’re being pushed toward.”

“We don’t want you falling into something because it feels like safety,” Julia added. “Because it looks like rescue.”

Gretchen took Anna's gloved hand. “A man like the Duke doesn’t ask for walks and dances unless he’s thinking ahead but ahead may not mean with you. And if he’s serious, you’ll know soon enough. Until then, guard your heart. You have too many people leaning on it.”