Page 21 of Corrupting his Duchess

Anna felt as if the ground under her feet had shifted, her pulse beating too fast in her throat.

“I'm sure Lady Anna has her own mind,” Henry’s gaze lingered on Anna a heartbeat too long, his eyes darkened as he looked at her, something more intense flickering underneath.

“And you, Lady Anna,” Henry murmured, his voice softer now, “have you been… enjoying the evening?”

Anna felt her breath catch, the way he said it, the way his eyes softened when they looked at her, as if the room had narrowed down to just the two of them. Or was she imagining things?

“I…yes,” she said quietly, her fingers curling slightly against her skirts. “I have.”

Their eyes held, unspoken things stirring between them, the memory of that almost-kiss brushing the edges of her mind. She took three steadying breaths, she was sure her flaming cheeks were obvious even in the dark.

Matthew’s voice cut smoothly between them, sharp as a knife wrapped in velvet. “You two seem unusually familiar.”

Anna flinched inwardly, forcing a polite smile. “We, we’ve crossed paths at this party.”

Henry’s mouth tilted into a knowing half-smile, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Yes… several times.”

Matthew’s green eyes narrowed slightly, cool and assessing. “Interesting.”

Anna felt the tension pull taut around them, her heart beating a little too fast.

She stepped back slightly, her heart thudding, forcing a polite smile. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Lady Gretchen I’d join her for a moment.”

CHAPTER 4

That afternoon, the party drifted into the gardens, trailing laughter and idle conversation like silk scarves in the breeze. The sun was generous, spilling warmth over the lawn, and the scent of cut grass and blooming roses hung sweet and heavy in the air. Sunlight danced on the glass cups by the balustrade, and the platters of silver hinted at refreshments being served. Henry barely registered it.

He stood just beyond the balustrade, hands in his coat pockets, chin tilted in the direction of Isaac Stenton, who was pacing beside him, hands gesturing as he spoke. “If we delay again, Hargrave & Sons will secure the docks at Blythe. That’s the last open piece. Your Grace, with it, we’re in control of the entire northern route.”

Henry stood still, eyes on the lawn. “You’ve said that.”

“Because it’s true,” Isaac snapped, the edge in his voice more nervous than angry. “You know it’s true. We’re not just talking profit, we’re talking position. Permanence.”

“I’m just saying,” he realized his tone, stepping closer, his voice lowered in urgency, “if we don’t move on this by the end of the quarter, Your Grace, Hargrave and Sons will take the northern route for themselves. That’s it. We’ll have missed our chance to control a direct link between the Durham pits and the southern docks.”

Henry nodded once, vaguely. “I heard you the first five times.”

He heard her laugh before he saw her.

It was bright and unguarded and it caught him. It drew his gaze like a thread pulled taut.

Anna was speaking with Sophia and the rest of Anna’s friends near the rose hedges, the hem of her dress stirring lightly in the breeze. She turned slightly, her laughter faint but clear. She hadn’t seen him, but still, he felt her like a tug in his chest.

Isaac huffed, trying to keep his emotions under control. “Well, I don’t see you doing anything about it. You’re not this cautious, Your Grace. You’re deliberately not paralyzed.”

“Your Grace?” Isaac prompted. “Are you listening to me?”

“Of course.” He looked back at Isaac, voice calm. “You’re saying we need to act before Hargrave does.”

“We should’ve acted yesterday. This is the kind of move that changes everything for me, for both of us. You saw the ledger.You've read the projections. Shipping coal directly from the north via a fleet we control, that’s not just profitable, it's untouchable. In five years, we’d be…”

“Rich?” Henry interrupted. “Respected? Unbearably dull?”

Isaac narrowed his eyes, tugging at his cravat. “Established. Independent. Maybe even dangerous, in the best sense of the word. This is exactly the sort of venture you favor, it is your talent.”

Henry’s mouth twitched, but not into a smile. “I can hardly call it a talent.”

“And yet,” Isaac pressed, “you’re still the one who called it a golden door. Your words. ‘Golden door to the north.’ Have you changed your mind, Your Grace?”