Page 32 of Corrupting his Duchess (A Duke’s Undoing #1)

O f course he would be at the ball. It was Lady Vexley’s ball. Every titled name in London would attend. Including the one she’d spent a week trying not to think about.

Anna stood near the edge of the ballroom, one hand lightly on Matthew’s arm, smiling when expected, nodding at the right people. The room was loud, too many candles, too much perfume, heat pressing in like hands. She didn't feel it, she just wanted it to be over.

Only the ache in her spine from standing too straight for too long. And the weight of her earrings.

Julia stepped in beside her, all soft rose and tight curls.

“You look stunning,” she whispered, tucking her hand around Anna’s elbow. “I knew that dress would suit you, “I told you that color would make the rest of us look like ghosts.”

“You exaggerate,” Anna said. Her voice was soft.

“Rarely,” Julia’s eyes flicked to Matthew, then back. “And he’s being very attentive tonight, isn’t he?”

Anna didn’t respond.

Julia hesitated, then added, “Is it awful that I expected him to be less charming?”

“He likes an audience,” Anna said. It came out drier than she meant it to.

Julia studied her a moment longer. “You’re holding yourself too stiff. Is your corset cutting in, or do you just want to disappear?”

Anna turned toward the crowd. “Does it matter?”

Julia squeezed her arm gently. “Only if you think it does.”

Then Julia’s gaze caught on something across the room. “Lady Carrow is headed this way with questions about the cotillion. I’ve no intention of being dragged into her theories on eligible baronets, so– ”

She kissed Anna’s cheek lightly.

“I’ll circle back. Try to survive in the meantime, won’t you?”

Anna nodded, managing a small smile. “No promises.”

Julia gave her a wink and disappeared into the crowd, skirts brushing marble, scent of gardenia trailing behind her.

Anna turned back to Matthew and tried to pay attention to him but her eyes kept roving.

She could feel Matthew’s presence beside her, his warmth, the slight pressure of his hand where her arm touched his sleeve.

And she wanted, with a force that startled her, for it to be someone else.

She wanted Henry.

She wanted the weight of his gaze across the room. The way his voice dropped when they spoke alone. The way he looked at her, like she was something rare and necessary.

But he had pushed her away.

Matthew had been talking for minutes. She hadn’t heard a word.

He touched her hand to draw her attention back. “Tired already?”

“Not at all,” she said, and offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

He chuckled. “You’re very composed tonight.”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze flicked over the crowd, half by reflex, half in dread.

Then she saw him. Her breath caught.

Henry.

He was standing just across the ballroom. Alone. Immaculate. Staring straight at her.

Her heart didn’t race.

It stopped.

He hadn’t changed. Same posture, same eyes, same impossible steadiness.

But something in his face was different. It was subtle, but she knew it. He looked tired. Strained. As though holding himself together was taking more effort than usual.

Her throat closed.

She didn’t look away immediately.

For one strange second, she held his gaze. Just long enough to feel everything she wasn’t allowed to feel anymore.

Then she looked away. The moment shattered as if it had never happened.

She could feel Matthew beside her, saying something. Didn’t matter. The room had gone soft and distorted, like a painting seen through glass.

She smiled too quickly at a passing acquaintance. Said something polite. Swallowed the taste in her mouth. Her throat felt dry, her chest tight under the boning of her bodice.

“Anna?” Matthew’s voice, too close.

She blinked. “Yes?”

“I asked if you’d like another drink.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

He stepped away.

Anna watched Matthew disappear into the crowd, and the breath she’d been holding slid out of her in pieces.

Her glass was still half-full, but her stomach turned at the thought of drinking.

Across the room, the space where Henry had stood was empty now.

She didn’t let herself look for him again.

The press of the ballroom was suddenly unbearable, too many bodies, too many voices, too much everything. She needed air.

She set the glass down on a passing tray and stepped toward the far corridor, nodding faintly at someone who called her name. She didn’t stop.

The side doors to the veranda were already open. The night air rolled in cool and damp, stirring the hem of her gown as she stepped through. It was quieter here. Almost peaceful.

She leaned against the balustrade, one hand at her waist, breathing in the cold until it caught at her ribs.

“Thought I might find you out here,” Matthew said easily, closing the door behind him.

She turned. Matthew stood just behind her, holding two glasses.

She straightened. “I only needed air.”

“You looked like you did.”

He walked toward her, slow and casual, and the doors shut with a soft click behind him. The sound scraped.

“You left before your drink,” he added, holding out a fresh glass.

“I’m not thirsty.”

He set the glass down on the balustrade. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I’ve been tired,” she said carefully.

He stepped closer. Too close. “No. You’ve been distant.”

She tensed. Her back was near the column now, stone against silk.

“I’m not in the mood for conversation, Lord Vaun.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

“No,” he murmured. “You’re not.”

She moved to step past him, but he blocked the path with an easy shift of his shoulder. He wasn’t smiling now. His expression had gone still, flat. His eyes, dark in the low light, held something colder.

Anna’s heart picked up, fast and high.

“Let me pass.”

He didn’t answer.

The silence stretched. Behind the hedge, the faint sounds of music were too far to matter.

She reached out to push past him.

That’s when he grabbed her arm.

His fingers slid down to her wrist, holding it in place.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, voice quiet. “I just want to enjoy what’s already mine.”

Her blood went cold.

“You don’t own me.”

He stepped in, her back now flush with the stone.

“Don’t I?” he said. “I could take you right now, and no one would stop me.”

She jerked her wrist, but his grip held.

“You should be thanking me,” he said, low, breath brushing the curve of her cheek. “No more pretending. No more waiting.”

His hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing into the silk.

Anna tried again to push him back. Her voice came out thin. “Lord Vaun. Let me go.”

He didn’t.

“You gave in to him,” he said.

The words struck harder than the grip on her wrist.

“You gave yourself to Yeats, didn’t you?” he went on, voice still calm, too calm. “Don’t look shocked. It’s not exactly subtle. The garden walks. The late-night visits. You gave it to him, and now you act as if you’re untouched.”

Her stomach turned.

“You think I don’t see it?” His fingers curled tighter. “You look at him like he hung the stars and you expect me to believe you’ve been innocent with him?”

Her pulse pounded in her throat. “That’s none of your– ”

“I’m not angry,” he said, smiling now, smiling like he meant to make her sick. “I’m not. I just think if he got to taste it, then so should I.”

Her blood ran cold.

“I’m not some idiot cousin playing suitor while you pine for a duke. You chose me. You agreed.”

“Not to this,” she said, breath sharp.

“You’re mine now, Anna.”

“No.”

She tried to wrench free again, but his grip tightened. Her elbow hit stone.

He grabbed her chin. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No– ”

“You liked it with him,” he hissed. “So what makes this different? I’m not asking for anything you haven’t already given.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Her back hit the stone pillar again, shoulder aching. She shoved at his chest with both hands now, but he didn’t move.

His mouth was too close. His hand at her waist was inching lower.

She barely heard what he said anymore.

Just the pressure of his fingers, the sick twist of his mouth.

“You liked it with him,” Matthew was saying. “Don’t pretend now.”

Her back hit the stone pillar harder again. The impact made her gasp.

Before she could pull free, his hand clamped around her jaw– hard, fingers digging in to force her face up. Her scalp prickled with heat.

Then he kissed her.

Not gentle. Not curious. Not anything that could be mistaken for affection.

Just power and pure force.

His mouth crushed against hers, lips bruising, breath sour. She tried to turn her head but his grip locked her still.

Pain lanced through her wrist where he held it pinned.

She tasted blood.

Her own.

The panic came fast– faster than she could reason through. Her limbs flailed, not with grace but desperation. She got a knee up, pushed her hand between them–

“Get off– !”

He pulled back just long enough to hiss, “Stop fighting.”

And then–

“Get your hands off her.”

The voice snapped through the garden like a gunshot.

Everything stopped.

Matthew’s grip loosened.

Anna twisted, just in time to see Henry striding toward them from the path, murder in his eyes.

Henry hadn’t seen Anna in ten minutes since he stepped out.

And Matthew was gone, too.

He scanned the ballroom again– no flash of silver, no Anna. Just champagne, perfume, laughter, and none of what he needed. Trying not to seem obvious, he stepped near the entrance to the corridor and caught the attention of a footman adjusting a tray.

“Lady Anna,” he said quietly. “Did you happen to see where she went?”

The footman straightened. “She stepped out a few minutes ago, Your Grace.”

Henry paused. “Alone?”

The man hesitated. “With Lord Vaun, I believe.”

Henry’s pulse surged.

“Do you know where?”

“Yes, sir. Through the garden doors.” The footman hesitated. “I believe the veranda.”

Henry nodded once. “Thank you.”

He stepped through the open French doors into the crisp night air.

Empty.

Two other guests lingered near the far edge, but not Anna. Not Matthew.

He moved to the balustrade. Still nothing.

A sick tightness began winding through his chest.

Then he heard something.

Muffled. Sharp. A voice, it wasn't laughter. Not playful. A sound too strained to be casual.

He stepped off the veranda and started down the stone steps toward the garden. His boots hit gravel.

The hedges rustled to the right. He turned toward the sound, heart hammering, every muscle pulled taut.

And then he saw them.

Matthew’s back was to him. Anna was pinned between him and a column, her hands pressed against his chest, her head turned away. Her face was pale and her lip was bleeding.

Henry didn’t think.

He charged forward, grabbed Matthew by the collar, and yanked him away from her.

Matthew stumbled but caught his footing. “What the hell– ?”

Henry punched him.

The sound cracked through the garden.

Matthew reeled back, blood blooming from his nose.

Henry advanced, jaw clenched. Voice low, deadly.

“Touch her again, and I’ll end you.”

Matthew staggered back. “You don’t know what she– ”

Henry slammed him into the column.

“I know exactly what I saw.”

He drew back and punched him again. Harder.

This time, Matthew dropped to a knee.

Henry stood over him, breathing sharp. “You coward. You leech. You pathetic little man.”

Matthew coughed, wiping blood onto his sleeve.

“I should ruin you on principle,” Henry said. “You don’t deserve your title. You don’t deserve your name.”

Matthew’s eyes were wide now. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Henry let go of Matthew’s coat and shoved him backward into the gravel.

“Get up. Get out. And if I ever see you near her again– anywhere– I’ll end what I started.”

Matthew looked at Anna, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

Henry stepped between them.

“Now.”

Matthew scrambled up and fled without another word.

Henry didn’t move until Matthew’s footsteps disappeared completely.

Henry stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling fast and his fists ached from impact. He looked at Anna.

“Are you hurt?”

Anna stood near the column, one hand at her mouth. Her hair had come loose and her shoulders were shaking.

She didn’t meet his eyes.

He moved toward her, slowly, his voice low.

“I asked if you were hurt,” he said finally.

She shook her head. “No.”

He didn’t believe her.

There was blood at the corner of her lip. Her wrist was red.

“No,” her voice was barely audible.

He waited.

“Anna.”

“I said I am not hurt.”

He hesitated. “You are bleeding.”

She dabbed the corner of her lip with a trembling hand. “It is nothing.”

“You ought to sit.”

“I ought to go inside.”

Henry stared at her.

“I’m fine,” she added, quieter. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He took a slow step forward. “I did.”

She looked up, just barely. “No. You didn’t.”

“He put his hands on you.”

“I’ve had worse,” she said, and then flinched, maybe from the truth of it.

Henry’s throat worked. “You shouldn’t have to.”

She let out a breath. “That’s not your responsibility.”

He said nothing.

“I can take care of myself,” she added.

“If you could,” he said tightly, “you wouldn’t have been out here with a man like him.”

The words landed hard.

She looked at him now, full and sharp. “And whose fault is that?”

Henry didn’t answer.

Anna stepped forward, fury catching up to her grief.

“Do you think I desired this? That I sought his company? Do you think I wanted to be out here pretending with someone like him?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, voice low.

“Don’t I?” she snapped. “What choice do I have?”

He said nothing.

“Every room I walk into, I look for you. Every day I wake up and think maybe– just maybe– ”

She broke off. Then swallowed.

“I can’t even pay attention to him,” she said bitterly. “And it’s not because of Lord Vaun, it’s because of you! Because my mind keeps turning back to you.”

He took a step closer.

She stepped back.

“You made me trust you,” she said, voice tight. “You made me feel seen. Safe. And then you cut it off like none of it meant anything.”

His face cracked.

“You left me,” she whispered. “You broke my heart.”

“I thought I was doing what was right.”

“For whom?” she asked. “Because it was not for me.”

Henry stepped toward her, very carefully.

But she turned her head, just enough.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t make it worse.”