Page 24 of Corrupting his Duchess (A Duke’s Undoing #1)

H enry had never liked tea taken in the morning room. The light came in at sharp angles, revealing too much, flaws in the plaster, tension in the eyes. This morning, it revealed Isaac. He'd rather spend his morning thinking about Anna and the way she whimpered beneath his touch.

The Earl of Stenton lounged beside the fireplace like he owned it, one leg crossed over the other, fingers draped around his teacup with all the languid grace of a man playing host. Henry, standing near the window, hands clasped behind his back, resisted the urge to tell him to get out of his chair, and out of the room.

Nathaniel, seated to Henry’s right, balanced civility and mockery with the ease of a man born to needle. His posture was uncharacteristically straight, his expression composed save for the faintest curl of his mouth. Henry had asked him to be here, insisted, in fact.

Isaac set his cup down with a soft clink. “Your Grace,” he said smoothly, directing the title toward Henry as if hoping to reset the balance, “I had thought we might speak privately this morning. There were particulars I’d intended to present, delicate matters, not quite suited for… humdrum ears.”

Nathaniel arched a brow. “How odd. I was told I had particularly fine ears.”

“Your Grace,” Isaac said, gesturing to Nathaniel with his cup, “I must admit, I didn’t anticipate your participation in this arrangement.”

“That was rather the point,” Henry said coolly, before Nathaniel could answer. “I’ve made it plain, I will not enter into any undertaking that does not include a partner I trust.”

Isaac’s smile didn’t falter, but the amusement in his eyes dimmed just a little. “Of course. Trust is paramount. Though I admit, I had hoped to avoid… duplication of roles.”

“On the contrary,” Nathaniel said lightly, swirling his tea, “I’ve found things move more efficiently when someone

Henry didn’t look away from the window. “Nathaniel is here at my invitation.”

“Yes, but, ” Isaac paused, carefully recalibrating. “Surely there’s merit in keeping a venture such as this lean. The fewer hands, the better the grip. You understand.”

Henry turned now, slowly. “On the contrary. I find ventures far more stable when those hands can be trusted not to shift the weight behind one’s back.”

The smile on Isaac’s face remained, but his fingers tightened faintly around the edge of the saucer.

“I only meant,” he said, voice lighter now, “that we had a rhythm, you and I. An understanding.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “Ah. You mean when you proposed the venture behind closed doors with no paperwork, no partners, and no real capital.”

“I had assurances.”

“You had intentions,” Henry cut in, his voice cool and even. “What you didn’t have was my agreement.”

Isaac’s lips parted, but no words emerged at once.

Henry continued, stepping closer to the table, his tone like steel beneath silk. “And if I am to attach my name to something that affects my holdings, my tenants, and my future, then I will not do so without oversight. That includes the Duke of Frayton.”

Nathaniel smiled, wide and guileless. “Delighted to be the oversight.”

Isaac’s expression curdled, just for a heartbeat, before smoothing again. “As you wish, Your Grace,” he said. “Of course.”

Henry turned back to the window. The view beyond was washed in pale spring light, deceptively calm.

Isaac recovered with practiced ease, reaching again for his teacup. “Well, I suppose every ship sails smoother with a full deck of officers. Though, I thought I had mentioned, I’ve already secured interest from Lord Fenwick.”

Nathaniel glanced over with mild interest. “Fenwick? Truly? The same Fenwick who pulled out of the Darren rail bid because of whispers of impropriety?”

Isaac inclined his head, pleased with himself. His smile sharpened. “The very same. He’s eager, I assure you. He sees the potential and is prepared to commit, under the right conditions.”

“Mm,” Nathaniel murmured, tapping a finger against his saucer. “And by ‘right conditions’ you mean… fewer Dukes in the room?”

Isaac gave a tight chuckle. “I mean discretion. Decisiveness. Not every man of standing relishes prolonged negotiation.”

Henry’s voice was like ice over water. “Then Lord Fenwick may not relish me.”

That earned a smirk from Nathaniel. “He’ll survive the disappointment.”

Isaac pressed on, still smooth, still smiling, but the strain was beginning to show at the corners of his mouth. “I only meant that Fenwick is not a man to be trifled with. His interest lends this venture significant credibility.”

Henry looked at him for a long moment, then folded his arms. “And I am not a man to be maneuvered.”

A pause.

Nathaniel broke it with a cheerful sip. “It’s terribly inconvenient when business partners insist on reading the contracts, isn’t it?”

Isaac’s gaze flicked toward him. “This is a matter of investment. Not mockery.”

Nathaniel leaned back slightly, still smiling. “Then perhaps choose your investments more wisely.”

Henry said nothing for a moment. He didn’t need to. His silence had weight, measured, calculating, cold.

When he finally spoke, it was quiet. “Lord Fenwick doesn’t entertain foolish schemes. If he’s willing to consider this, it speaks to the strength of the venture. If he wishes to be involved, I welcome the conversation. But I will not be led into it by someone whose own holdings are in disarray.”

Isaac stiffened. “That’s an unfair characterization.”

“No,” Henry said. “It’s a precise one.”

Isaac leaned back again, swirling the dregs of his tea. “Of course, this arrangement only works if there’s mutual understanding. Respect, naturally. Transparency. Especially when affections become entangled.”

Nathaniel looked up from his cup, eyes narrowing slightly. “Affections?”

Isaac shrugged, tone casual. “Only that business and… sentiment rarely make good bedfellows. Not when the parties involved have other obligations. Estates. Expectations.”

Henry’s jaw flexed once.

Isaac glanced at him, too pleased. “She’s lovely, my cousin. And bright. I’ll grant you that. But I wonder if she’s truly prepared for all that comes with your… attention. It’s a great deal for a girl who has only ever known how to serve others.”

Nathaniel set down his teacup with a quiet clink. “You’re skating thin, Stenton.”

Isaac didn’t blink. “I’m only speaking as her family. One must be realistic, after all. She’s strong, yes, but so very… impressionable. You can hardly expect her not to become attached.”

Henry’s voice came quiet and hard. “Stop.”

But Isaac pressed on. “Naturally, if your interests lie elsewhere in the long term, I should hate for her to be misled. She’s given so much already, her pride, her steadiness, her name. And what does she receive in return?”

Nathaniel gave him a pointed look. “I suggest you stop speaking.”

But Isaac’s smile sharpened. “No offense, of course. I'm merely concerned for her future. For appearances. If she’s to be taken seriously in Society, she cannot afford to be seen as a diversion.”

Henry’s jaw tensed.

Isaac went on, tone smooth, practiced, too polished to be accidental.

“She’s in a delicate position, you understand. A young lady with no dowry to speak of, tied to an estate barely solvent, under a guardianship not of her choosing. And with Heather approaching marriageable age, one can’t be reckless. Reputation is everything.”

Isaac gave a slow shrug, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “She’s not without qualities, of course. Grace, bearing, a sense of duty that borders on saintly. But that only carries so far in our world, doesn’t it?”

He took another sip of tea, eyes cool. “There’s little room for sentiment when a young lady has no real provision behind her. No fortune, no backing. And yet, if aligned properly, she could be quite an asset.”

His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Henry. “To the right man, she offers more than coin ever could.”

He swirled the last of his tea, eyes gleaming above the rim. “Of course, if she were to secure the attention of a man of real consequence, someone with enough stature to… anchor her, then the rest falls into place, doesn’t it? Security. Influence. A future for both girls.”

Nathaniel let out a sharp breath through his nose, barely covering a scoff. “You speak of her as if she were a trade agreement.”

Isaac didn’t blink. “I speak of her as one must, when one carries the burden of responsibility. I’m merely ensuring she is…” he paused, as if choosing a word with care, “...well positioned.”

That was it.

Henry spoke softly, slowly, dangerously calm. “You mean to barter her.”

Isaac raised his brows. “I mean to ensure she does not waste an opportunity.”

“An opportunity,” Henry repeated. “You mean me.”

“I mean whoever is foolish enough to believe she has a choice,” Isaac said, the mask slipping for just a second, just long enough for Henry to see the rot beneath.

Henry stood.

No warning. No announcement. Just the soft scrape of his chair as he rose.

And suddenly, the room felt colder.

Henry stepped forward slowly, each movement measured, not loud, not rushed, but with the quiet intensity of a man who has reached the limits of civility.

“Your cousin,” he said, voice low and flint-edged, “is more honorable than you will ever be. She is not a diversion. She is not your pawn. And if you speak of her again, in any tone other than reverent, I will see to it that you are unwelcome in every drawing room from here to the House of Lords.”

Isaac’s face stiffened. “You threaten me in my own blood’s name?”

“I threaten you,” Henry said, “because she cannot. But I can. And I will.”

The silence was thunderous.

Nathaniel said mildly, “I believe that concludes the meeting.”

Henry didn’t look away from Isaac. “Do not speak to her again unless she speaks to you first. Do not speak of her at all in my presence. And if I discover you’ve used her name to negotiate influence with anyone, Fenwick, the board, your tailor, I will not stop with words.”

Isaac’s throat moved. “Is that a promise?”