Page 76 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

“See what, exactly?”

“We’re the same, you and I,” he said. “And if you think you’re not worthy of my affection, then I deserve none of your tender feelings either. But I am here with you now. In this moment and the next, and the next after that, until the end. I’m saying that this time, I choose you. Not duty. Not a responsibility to society or my blasted title. Just you.”

The word hung between them like a bridge neither quite dared to cross.

“Henry—”

The look on her face…Henry knew that he had to get away before he pulled her down into that bed of hers and ravished her all night long.

“Sleep well, my Annabelle,” he whispered.

Then, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before he pulled away and quickly disappeared out the door.

It was for the best that he let her rest. The Lord knew his control was already shot to smithereens where Miss Lytton was concerned.

“You’re glowing, my dear.”

Annabelle nearly dropped her teacup at her grandmother’s observation. The delicate porcelain rattled against the saucer as she set it down with trembling fingers.

“I am glowing?”

“Indeed. There’s a certain… luminescence about you these past few days,” Lady Oakley continued. Her sharp eyes studied Annabelle with the intensity of a hawk. “One might almost think you were in love.”

“Grandmother, really,” Annabelle managed as heat rose in her cheeks. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

“Hmm.” The older woman’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Well, whatever the cause, it suits you remarkably well. Youhaven’t looked this alive since—well, since before that dreadful business with Florentia.”

It had been over three weeks since that night in the conservatory, where Henry had taken her with all the desperation of a starving man. Annabelle had a feeling that her grandmother knew all about her escapades and secret meetings with the Duke of Marchwood, but decided to turn a blind eye.

Until today, that is.

“Well, it’s…London is a nice change of scenery for me, is all.”

“Hm.” Lady Oakley hummed, and at that moment, the butler appeared in the doorway. “Your Grace, the Duke of Marchwood and Lady Celia have arrived for today’s lesson.”

Annabelle’s pulse quickened traitorously at the mention of Henry’s name, even as she tried her best to hide her reaction.

“Excellent timing,” Lady Oakley declared, rising from her chair. “Annabelle, do fetch the etiquette primers from the library while I greet our guests. We’ll be working on deportment today.”

The library. Of course. Annabelle had also begun to suspect her grandmother was orchestrating these little errands that conveniently removed her from the drawing room whenever Henry arrived, so that it was easier for him to meet with her.

She was not going to complain about it, though. She made her way down the familiar corridor, and her heart hammered against her ribs with each step. She stepped into the library and closed the door behind her, but made sure not to lock it.

Not yet.

Instead, she pretended to peruse the shelves for the etiquette primers she knew very well were already in her grandmother’s possession. But she did not have to wait long before the door creaked open.

“Looking for something in particular?” Henry’s voice was low and warm as he stepped inside, then closed the door behind himself with deliberate care.

Annabelle’s heart started to beat hard and fast inside her chest because of the mere sound of his voice. “The etiquette primers,” she replied, though she made no move toward the shelves where they were kept. Instead, she found herself turning towards him with anticipation already dogging her movements.

“Hm,” he hummed, closing the distance between them in two easy strides, and Annabelle had the sudden urge to run, but it was an urge that was without agency, because her body refused to move.

This man…he had her completely under his thrall.

“And how isyourdeportment this morning, Miss Lytton?”

The formal address sent a shiver through her, especially when delivered in that particular tone that suggested anything but propriety.

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