Page 85 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

“Ah.” Everett sat back as understanding dawned in his eyes. “Did you have a lover’s quarrel?”

He had, of course, known about their clandestine meetings and the relationship that had blossomed between them.

Henry took a long sip of his brandy and savored the burn. “She’s… ended whatever existed between us. Quite decisively, as it happens.”

Everett’s eyes widened. “I see. And her reasons?”

“Well. You see, that’s the funny part.” Henry chuckled, even though the sound was completely devoid of mirth. “Society’s good opinion, apparently. The fear that association with her would damage Celia’s prospects.” Henry’s voice carried a bitter edge. “Does it not amuse you? The rebellious Miss Annabelle Lytton folded under the pressure of what other people think about her.”

Everett was quiet for a long moment. He studied Henry’s face with characteristic perception. “It is clear that she has more to fear for now than just herself.”

Henry arched his brow in silent doubt.

“Celia.” His friend concluded simply, and Henry’s fingers tightened around the glass in his grip. “She does not want to ruin your daughter’s chances. It is no longer just about what you or Miss Lytton want.”

“Do you think I do not know that?” Henry said slowly. Bitterness was still rife in his tone. “I know that these concerns are valid and the man I was before I met her would not have minded our going our separate ways, but…”

“But you are not the man you were before,” Everett finished. His tone was calm. No tomfoolery was to be found around its edges. “You truly do love her.”

Henry’s breath caught, the words landing with brutal precision. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. Only the heavy, dawning weight of truth settling in his chest.

He wasn’t the same man who once cared only for pride, for control, for keeping his heart untouched. Somewhere along the way, between her fierce defiance, her laughter, and the way she saw straight through him, he’d surrendered more than he’d meant to.

He did love her. Fiercely. Completely. And the realization struck not like a gentle tide but like a blow: sudden, irreversible, and leaving him stripped bare.

Henry took another sip of his brandy. “I… Well. And yet, here we are.”

“So, shall we discuss what you actually intend to do about this situation, or shall I continue to watch you pickle yourself in brandy while muttering about impossibilities?”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Henry said flatly. “She has made her position clear. I can hardly force her to reconsider.”

“Can’t you?” Everett’s smile was positively wicked. “My dear Duke, where’s that legendary determination that’s seen you through every other challenge life has presented?”

Henry felt a flicker of his old fire at his friend’s words, but it died almost immediately. “This is different, Everett. This isn’t about business dealings or social maneuvering. This is about her boundaries.”

“My, my. Love has changed you indeed,” Everett said.

Those words hung between them, stark and undeniable. Henry had avoided it, even in his own thoughts, as though naming it might make the loss even more devastating.

“Yes,” He admitted quietly.

“Then fight for it, you fool. Fight for her. Show her that whatever scandal she’s fleeing from pales in comparison to what you’re willing to face together.”

“She has rejected me twice now, Everett.” The words rent his heart in two. “I cannot weather it again.”

“This is surrendering before the battle’s even begun.”

Henry did not need the admonishment. He already knew that he was being just as much of a coward as he’d accused Annabelle of being.

That evening, Henry made his way to Annabelle’s residence for Celia’s scheduled lesson with his friend’s words echoing in his mind. But when the door opened, it wasn’t Annabelle who greeted them.

It was her sister, Miss Florentia Lytton. Her smile was bright and welcoming in a way that immediately set Henry’s teeth on edge.

“Your Grace! How lovely to see you. I’m afraid Anna isn’t feeling quite well today—a headache, you understand. But of course, Lady Celia’s lessons must continue. Grandmama is in the parlor.”

Henry studied the woman’s face, noting the practiced innocence of her expression and the way her eyes seemed to drink him in as though she did not truly care a wit about the predicament of Annabelle.

Something cold settled in his stomach as pieces began falling into place.

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