Page 58 of Corrupting his Duchess

Near the pianoforte, Sophia played with quiet focus, her mother seated nearby with a small smile of approval. A few guests had begun to dance again.

Then Henry approached.

He was composed, of course, always, but his expression had shifted. Less guarded now. Almost warm.

“Lady Anna,” he said with a faint bow.

“Your Grace,” she returned, rising just slightly as propriety required.

His gaze lingered a moment too long. Not enough to cause a comment. But enough that she felt it.

“You danced beautifully tonight,” he said.

“Thank you.”

He paused, then added, low enough for only her to hear, “If you find yourself restless before retiring... I shall take a walk near the east garden.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. His gaze lingered. Not just as a duke appraising a guest, but as a man waiting for permission.

“I... shall see how I feel,” Anna said carefully.

His lips barely curved. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

He inclined his head. “Good evening, Lady Anna. Lady Gretchen.”

And then he was gone, already turning toward another guest, already returning to his role as host.

Anna sat back down slowly.

Gretchen glanced at her. “What did he say?”

Anna smoothed her skirts. “Nothing of consequence.”

But her voice was too even. And Gretchen, wisely, said nothing more.

The drawing room had begun to thin, the hum of conversation softening as guests drifted toward cards, cordial, or polite retreat. The pianoforte had fallen silent. Only the occasional rustle of silk or clink of glass disturbed the calm.

The hum of conversation softened. A footman collected empty tea cups. Someone yawned behind a fan.

Anna stood near the fire, watching the firelight flicker against the brass fender, her thoughts tangled.

tea cooling in her hands. Across the room, Sophia was bidding goodnight to a group of older ladies. Julia appeared beside her, stealing a sugared biscuit from a passing tray.

“Still glowing?” she said quietly, not quite teasing.

Anna gave a soft laugh. “I’m fairly certain it’s the firelight.”

Julia tilted her head. “It wasn’t the firelight watching you like that.”

Before Anna could reply, Gretchen joined them, her voice low and precise. “Whatever you’re thinking, think carefully. He’s not like the others.”

“I know,” Anna said.

“I’m glad you do,” Gretchen murmured.

Anna said nothing. Her fingers curled more tightly around her teacup.

Moments later, as the room began to shift, chairs scraping gently, candles being trimmed, Anna slipped away. She stepped through the open doors to the terrace, drawing in the cool night air like water. The garden below was quiet, bathed in silver from the rising moon.