Page 101 of Corrupting his Duchess

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.