Page 121 of Corrupting his Duchess

Henry’s reply was ice. “Entirely.”

Isaac’s voice sharpened. “You’ll regret this. You’ll find yourself without allies.”

Henry’s smile was thin. “I think not.”

“You don’t understand how this works. These connections– ”

“I don’t need you,” Henry said flatly. “And I never did.”

Isaac’s composure faltered for a half-breath, then returned with venom. “She’ll regret choosing you.”

Henry’s voice dropped to steel. “If you so much as speak of her again in anything but civility, make sure you never show your face in society again. Do you understand me?”

Silence rang in the space that followed.

Isaac’s hand curled around the armrest, knuckles white. “You’re making a mistake.”

Henry turned toward the door. “Possibly. But at least it’s mine to make. And hers.”

And then he left.

EPILOGUE

The drawing room was a battlefield of satin, spools, and laughter.

Gowns were draped over armchairs like sleeping swans, discarded gloves hung from the edge of the pianoforte, and someone’s tea had been abandoned, cooling dangerously close to a pincushion.

“I swear this ribbon changed color since yesterday,” Gretchen said, holding a length of pale peach against the light. “Or perhaps my eyesight is going. What a scandal…blind at eighteen! The scandal sheets will be delighted.”

“You only dislike it because it isn’t dark enough,” Julia said dryly, rummaging through the pile of trimmings on the table.

“I dislike it because it’s peach,” Gretchen replied, flicking it away. “No woman ever seduced a man wearing fruit tones.”

From her seat by the hearth, Anna sighed, but the corners of her mouth were curved, soft. “I don’t know how this became a social event.”

“It’s your fault, dearest,” Julia said sweetly. “You’re the one marrying a duke.”

Gretchen held a scrap of ivory lace between her fingers, eyes narrowed. “If I see one more cherub embroidered into a hem, I shall rip it out myself.”

Julia leaned over the tea tray. “You’ve become insufferably fashionable since your trip to Bath.”

“You’re all insufferable,” Anna said from the armchair, though her smile was irrepressible. She had a rose-pink ribbon between her fingers and no idea what it had originally belonged to. “And you’ve taken over the entire room.”

“Entire house, more like,” came Heather’s voice from the doorway as she entered in a flurry, holding up a half-pinned bonnet like a trophy. “This one makes me look like a respectable lady, doesn’t it?”

“You’re seventeen,” Julia said, “you shouldn’t look respectable.”

Gretchen smirked. “Yet here she is, the most prepared of us all.”

Heather twirled once, then flopped beside Anna on the settee. “Mama says the seamstress will be here by noon. She’s threatened to faint if your hem isn’t precisely to the floor.”

“She’ll only faint if we let her read the guest list,” Anna murmured.

Julia turned to her with a grin. “I still can’t believe it’s happening this week. How did you get around the usual wait?”

Anna glanced up, cheeks warm. “We’re marrying by special license.”

There was a beat of stunned silence, followed by a chorus of scandalized delight.