Page 90 of Corrupting his Duchess

He didn’t answer. Didn’t defend himself.

She stared at him, this man she’d let inside her guard, who had kissed her like he needed her, who now stood like he barely knew what she meant.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She would not let him see her cry.

“I hope you remember this,” she said quietly. “Every time you think of me, I hope you remember what you didn’t do."

He didn’t stop her as she turned for the door.

Didn’t follow when she left.

She stepped into the hallway, cold air brushing her skin like a slap. Her candle flickered. Her throat burned. Her feet moved quickly, almost too quickly, as if she could outrun the ache taking root in her chest. Then the tears came in full force.

CHAPTER 17

The drawing room was too warm. Or maybe it was just the air, stale from being shut up too long, thick with the scent of violets someone had arranged in too-tight clusters on the mantel. The curtains had been opened, but the light that filtered in was pale and grimy, smeared with city soot. No soft hills here. No frost-touched gardens. Just cobblestones, rooftops, and the heavy grey sky above. It was no Yeats Hall.

Anna sat beside the window with her mending in her lap, though she hadn’t moved the needle in ten minutes. The fabric lay slack between her fingers, the needle threaded but untouched. She told herself she would begin any moment, but the moment never came.

The house creaked with its age. Somewhere in the corridor, a footstep sounded, light, careful–and a second later the door eased open. Heather slipped in, her hair braided loosely, her dressing gown pulled around her. Her hair fell around her face in soft ringlets. She was only seventeen, still a baby in so manyways…sweet, earnest, untouched by the sharper edges of the world. Her innocence made Anna ache.

“You’re up," she said, voice soft and bright.

Anna looked up and managed a smile. “So are you.”

Heather moved across the rug and perched beside her. The morning light reached neither of them. It never did in this room.

“I waited up last night,” Heather said after a moment. “I thought you might come say something. You didn’t.”

“I was tired,” Anna said. Her voice was gentle, but flat. “The journey was long.”

Heather tilted her head, studying her. “You’re always tired.”

Anna paused, the needle still poised in her fingers. She didn’t look up.

“I missed you,” Heather said. The words were soft, but certain.

Anna lowered her hand. “I missed you too.”

Heather leaned in slightly. “You’re quiet. Even more than usual.”

Anna let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’ve grown bold while I’ve been gone.”

Heather smiled. “Mama says I have opinions now. It’s worrying her terribly.”

“When did you develop them,” Anna didn't stop the laughter this time.

“In your absence,” Heather said matter-of-factly. “Someone had to take up the role of sharp observer.”

“You were always the better listener,” Anna said.

“But not the better liar,” Heather replied, more gently this time. “You came back changed, Anna. I can feel it.”

Anna looked away. “Maybe I’ve just grown tired.”

“Then let me be your rest,” Heather said quietly. “Even if I can’t help. Just… don’t shut me out.”

Anna’s throat tightened. She reached over and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind Heather’s ear.