Page 27 of Corrupting his Duchess

“No, they argue like a pair of courting birds.”

Anna choked on her lemonade.

The group fell into stunned silence before bursting out in muffled laughter except Anna, who was too mortified to breathe, and Henry, who tilted his head in what looked suspiciously like amusement.

“I… I don’t, That wasn’t,” Anna stammered.

Henry, ever composed, only said, “You have an unusual definition of arguing, Miss Julia.”

“But you’re always making those little remarks,” Julia protested, fanning herself. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking it,” Natalie whispered helpfully.

Anna’s face burned.

Most of the party had drifted towards the edge of the meadows, watching the flight of a shuttlecock. A few chaperones remained within earshot, dozing under parasols. Anna stayed under a tree, twirling a flower in her hand.

She could feel him watching her. Not with amusement, not even with curiosity—but with focus. That unwavering, measuredattention he always gave when something truly interested him. It made her feel caught.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he murmured, walking closer to her.

“I’m thinking,” she said, glancing at the horizon.

“Dangerous habit.”

“Someone must.”

“Is it me you’re thinking about?” His voice dropped further, silken and coaxing.

She arched a brow. “I was considering whether you’d be more effective haunting a moor or a governess.”

“That depends,” he murmured, “is the governess you?”

Her breath caught. She hated that it did.

CHAPTER 5

Anna, still flushed from their exchange, felt a pang of discomfort as the others drifted back toward the blankets. She remained behind, turning slightly as if inspecting the meadow, needing the air—needing the space.

She had teased him. Too sharply. Too directly. And the way he'd looked at her—no longer amused but attentive, deeply, deliberately focused—it left a heat crawling under her skin.

She heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“You fled,” came Henry’s voice, low and quiet.

“I lingered,” she said, lifting her chin. “There's a difference.”

“Ah,” he said, stopping just beside her, “so you’re not avoiding me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace.”

He laughed once, a dry, velvet sound. “Is that civility I detect?”

She didn’t answer at first. The wind stirred between them. When she did speak, her voice was softer.

“I didn’t mean to offend you earlier. About being difficult to understand.”

“Didn’t you?” he murmured, studying her face.