Page 63 of Corrupting his Duchess
Natalie wiped her cheek and nodded. “Two, please.”
As Julia swept off, Gretchen bent closer, her voice low. “Which brings us to the Duke,” she said carefully, “Anna… whatever spark there is between you, and yes, we all see it, now is not the time.”
Anna stiffened slightly, murmuring quietly “I know what you’re going to say,”
“Then I’ll say it anyway,” Gretchen said. “Avoid him. For now. For your sake.”
Julia said, taking her seat on the rug, “It hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the Duke of Yeats has taken a distinct interest.”
Gretchen glanced at her, then back at the fire. “It’s not judgment, Anna. It’s concern.”
“He’s been kind,” Anna said, quieter now. “More than most.”
“I believe it,” Gretchen said. “But kindness isn’t permanence. He is a duke and dukes don’t marry for affection. Not often.”
Julia’s voice was gentler than usual. “That’s true, Anna. His world isn’t ours. If you were anyone else, I might say lean into it. But you’re exhausted. Wounded. And we’ve seen what happens when men like him grow bored.”
Anna’s throat tightened. “He wouldn't.”
“But this isn’t just him,” Gretchen said. “It’s the timing. It’s Lord Stenton. It’s what you’re being pushed toward.”
“We don’t want you falling into something because it feels like safety,” Julia added. “Because it looks like rescue.”
Gretchen took Anna's gloved hand. “A man like the Duke doesn’t ask for walks and dances unless he’s thinking ahead but aheadmay not mean with you. And if he’s serious, you’ll know soon enough. Until then, guard your heart. You have too many people leaning on it.”
CHAPTER 12
The breeze had cooled as the hour wore on, yet the quiet corner near the window remained warm from lamplight and low voices.
The lamp flickered faintly behind them, casting a golden haze across the patterned rug. A log settled in the hearth with a sigh, and beyond the closed doors, the house stirred with the distant steps of a footman and the low murmur of a departing guest.
Anna reclined against the arm of the chaise, her posture still drawn with tension, despite the hush that had settled around them. The others sat close, watching her with a steady, unspoken attentiveness.
It was Julia who broke the silence, folding her fan with unusual care.
“I jest often, you know I do,” she said quietly, “but you must listen, Anna. If the Duke means to pursue you, let it be ofhis own volition. Not Isaac’s. Not society’s. And most certainly not some convenient arrangement dressed in the language of sentiment.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Even if his intentions are not unkind, his world is not ours. Men such as he seldom feel the weight of consequence. That burden, I fear, belongs to us.”
Gretchen, seated with her hands folded in her lap, lifted her gaze just slightly. “It is said,” she murmured, “that His Grace has no intention of marrying at all.”
Anna looked up. The words were not new, but they struck afresh, nonetheless.
“I have heard the same,” Julia said, her tone more subdued than usual. “His name has danced through half the drawing rooms this season, and yet not even a mother’s whisper of an understanding. No speculation. No hope.”
“It has become something of a certainty,” Gretchen added. “He possesses title, fortune, and reputation. What incentive has he to bind himself, unless out of some reluctant sense of duty?”
Anna pressed her fingers to the embroidery on her sleeve, tracing the thread as if it might anchor her. She remembered the first time she’d heard it, Lady Pembridge at a supper, laughing into her wine.“Yeats? Oh no, dear. He won’t marry. Not unless God Himself commands it.”
Anna swallowed. “I did not ask for any of this.”
“No,” Gretchen replied gently, “you never do. And that is precisely why we speak now. You must remain steady. The ground beneath you has shifted too often already.”
There was a silence, broken only when Julia reached forward and laid a gloved hand gently atop Anna’s wrist.
“You have given so much, Anna,” she said softly. “To your mother. To Heather. But never to yourself.”
Anna blinked, her lashes lowering to hide the sting that pricked behind her eyes.
