Page 44 of Corrupting his Duchess

He didn’t stop her. But as she reached the threshold, he spoke again.

“Anna.”

She paused.

“I’m not sorry either.”

She looked at him one last time, her gaze unreadable.

Then she nodded and left.

The croquet mallet was far too refined an object to be wielded so aggressively, and yet Nathaniel managed it with reckless flourish.

“You cheat,” Julia declared, planting her ball firmly on the grass and folding her arms.

“I’m inventive,” he countered, grinning shamelessly.

A few guests chuckled. From his seat beside Anna and Gretchen, Henry observed the exchange with mild detachment. His thoughts had been elsewhere, drifting inconveniently toward the young woman beside him, and how often she surprised him.

Her bonnet, a delicate confection of straw and silk ribbons, had been discarded earlier due to the warmth. The sun had teased a few strands of chestnut hair loose from her chignon, softening the stern lines of her face. She wore a gown of pale lavender muslin, simple in cut but impeccably tailored, its high waistline gathered with a satin ribbon that matched her gloves now folded in her lap. A faint sheen clung to her skin, and though she would never voice discomfort, the light flush on her cheeks betrayed the summer’s intensity.

Gretchen selected a tart, watching Nathaniel with a neutral expression. “He’s very... spirited,” she remarked. “But I suppose that’s fashionable.”

Anna glanced sideways, and Henry felt her gaze briefly touch him. He didn’t meet it. Instead, he kept one ankle crossed over the other, fingers steepled under his chin, brow faintly furrowed. It wasn’t the game that held his attention, it was her silence, the kind that crackled with suppressed thoughts.

“Not fond of croquet, Your Grace?” Anna asked lightly.

He turned his head just enough to catch her expression, teasing, but watchful. “Only when the stakes are high,” he replied, lips curving. “At present, they appear to be a single lemon tart and bragging rights. Hardly worth the injury.”

She laughed, soft, genuine. He liked the sound of it more than he ought to.

Then she gave a mock frown. “You’re supposed to be setting an example, impressing thetonand not hiding behind that smug little smile. If every man took your lead, the ladies would be left to compete among themselves.”

His smile deepened. “And would that be such a tragedy?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, then added with a grin, “especially if they lose.”

After a few more games, the others began to scatter, Sophia and Gretchen retreated toward the shade with her sketchbook, Julia dragging two girls toward the orchard with a laugh that carriedon the breeze. The noise dimmed, leaving only the low rustle of leaves and the hum of bees.

Anna remained where she was, twirling a flower in her hands. Henry lingered too, standing like he couldn't decide whether to join the men or stay. She glanced up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You’ll get sunburnt standing like that. No hat, no shade, and all that brooding.”

“I’m not brooding,” he said, stepping closer. “I was admiring the view.”

She smirked. “The fields?”

“Okay, no. The way you just scolded me.” His voice was quiet, but the smile behind it was unmistakable. “You sounded just like my mother. Alarming.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.” He sat beside her on the blanket, careful not to crowd her. “Though I suspect you enjoy being alarming.”

She shrugged, plucking at the grass. “I enjoy being honest. Most men find that terrifying.”

He watched her. “Not terrifying. Disarming, perhaps.”

She turned to face him. “What would disarm you, Your Grace? Or are you already a fortress with no gates?”

“I never said I was impervious.” He hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing into the silence between them. “But I don’t often find reason to lower the drawbridge.”