Page 47 of Corrupting his Duchess

The corners of his mouth twitched. He understood that feeling all too well. “You dislike parties?”

She patted the space beside her on the low stone bench, and he joined her after a pause. Anna looked up as he sat, a small smile curving her lips. Their shoulders did not touch, but the air between them felt charged.

“No. I dislike being watched at them. Judged. Measured.”

There was no self-pity in her voice, just truth, clean and weary. He looked at her then, really looked. The loose tendrils of her hair stirred in the breeze, framing a face that had begun to undo him.

“You prefer quieter things, then?”

“I like to watch people,” she said. “Not in a strange way. But people are so much more honest when they think no one is paying attention.”

Henry chuckled. “That’s almost sinister.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Only almost?”

“Well,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly with mock suspicion, “sitting quietly in corners, taking mental notes... sounds a great deal like espionage. Or gossip. Possibly both.”

“Gossip is lazy,” she said with a prim sniff. “Spies at least have to work for their secrets.”

“And what are you, then?” he asked, leaning just slightly closer. “A noble observer of human nature? Or something more... clandestine?”

“I’m a lady,” she said sweetly. “And we’re never quite what we appear.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “That sounds exactly like something a spy would say.”

“Or a woman who’s been underestimated far too many times.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Remind me never to cross you.”

“Oh, I expect you already have,” she said, arching a brow. “Several times.”

“And yet here you are. Still speaking to me.”

“Only because you’re slightly less insufferable than you were when we were introduced,” she said, lifting her chin in mock assessment. “You’re improving.”

He gave her a look of exaggerated gratitude. “How generous.”

She smiled and let the silence stretch for a moment.

“Then what about you, Your Grace? What do you like?”

He tilted his head. “Well, I’ve recently discovered I enjoy chats by the lake with observant young women who disapprove of most things.”

That earned a laugh. He’d meant it as jest, but it rang oddly true in his chest.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Very well.” He drew in a breath, choosing honesty. “I like horses. Old books. Boxing matches. Rainstorms. And terribly sweet biscuits, though I deny it in public.”

She smiled. “That is very specific.”

He glanced sideways at her. “Your turn.”

Anna hesitated, but then, “I like... quiet mornings. Letters that take their time. The way bread smells fresh from the oven. Dancing, but only when no one is watching. And, ”

She stopped herself.

“And?” he prompted, gentler now.