Page 116 of Corrupting his Duchess

“I– ”

She had no answer.

She wasn’t even sure she could breathe.

“Is it business?” her mother asked, half-dazed. “Isaac mentioned… well, no, he would have said something, wouldn’t he?”

“I– I think I should go see,” Anna murmured.

Heather caught her hand. “Anna. Did you know he was coming?”

Anna didn’t answer.

Heather gasped. “You did. Oh my word. Did he kiss you? He kissed you, didn’t he?”

“I’m going to the parlor,” Anna said, untangling her fingers.

She left the room in a daze, her heart pounding.

Behind her, Heather squealed softly, and her mother muttered something about finding a fresh handkerchief. But Anna didn’t hear the rest.

Anna stepped into the room, cheeks flushed and heart fluttering. Her cold hands clasped in front of her.

Henry turned the moment she entered, his eyes sweeping over her like he’d been holding his breath.

A wave of something fierce and tender surged up in her chest. The ache of missing him. The softness of wanting him. The staggering, terrifying truth that she loved him still– and possibly more than ever.

“Lady Anna,” he said, his voice low as he bowed deeply.

She barely had time to speak before he crossed the space between them, slower than urgent.

“I did not come here for your cousin. Not first. I came for you.”

Anna blinked, breath caught in her throat.

“I am not here because it is convenient. Or strategic. I am here because I love you.” He dropped to one knee, hand extended. “And if you would do me the honor, I would ask for your hand. Not as a contract– but as a promise.”

The room spun just slightly.

And just then– so quietly she almost didn’t hear– the door creaked open behind her.

She turned, just enough to see her mother standing in the doorway, shawl drawn tight around her shoulders, a hand pressed delicately at her collarbone. Heather stood beside her, wide-eyed and clutching the frame as if it were the only thing keeping her from floating away.

They said nothing.

Anna looked at them– and her heart filled. Heather smiled first, beaming, eyes glassy. Their mother followed, a single breath escaping her, one hand lifting slightly as if to say yes, child, go.

Anna turned back to Henry.

Then Anna laughed, soft and astonished, and stepped forward.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, of course.”

Henry rose, took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Her mother dabbed at her eyes.

Anna’s hand was still in Henry’s when the door creaked open again.