Page 71 of Corrupting his Duchess
Nathaniel looked up from his cup, eyes narrowing slightly. “Affections?”
Isaac shrugged, tone casual. “Only that business and… sentiment rarely make good bedfellows. Not when the parties involved have other obligations. Estates. Expectations.”
Henry’s jaw flexed once.
Isaac glanced at him, too pleased. “She’s lovely, my cousin. And bright. I’ll grant you that. But I wonder if she’s truly prepared for all that comes with your… attention. It’s a great deal for a girl who has only ever known how to serve others.”
Nathaniel set down his teacup with a quiet clink. “You’re skating thin, Stenton.”
Isaac didn’t blink. “I’m only speaking as her family. One must be realistic, after all. She’s strong, yes, but so very… impressionable. You can hardly expect her not to become attached.”
Henry’s voice came quiet and hard. “Stop.”
But Isaac pressed on. “Naturally, if your interests lie elsewhere in the long term, I should hate for her to be misled. She’s given so much already, her pride, her steadiness, her name. And what does she receive in return?”
Nathaniel gave him a pointed look. “I suggest you stop speaking.”
But Isaac’s smile sharpened. “No offense, of course. I'm merely concerned for her future. For appearances. If she’s to be taken seriously in Society, she cannot afford to be seen as a diversion.”
Henry’s jaw tensed.
Isaac went on, tone smooth, practiced, too polished to be accidental.
“She’s in a delicate position, you understand. A young lady with no dowry to speak of, tied to an estate barely solvent, under a guardianship not of her choosing. And with Heather approaching marriageable age, one can’t be reckless. Reputation is everything.”
Isaac gave a slow shrug, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “She’s not without qualities, of course. Grace, bearing, a sense of duty that borders on saintly. But that only carries so far in our world, doesn’t it?”
He took another sip of tea, eyes cool. “There’s little room for sentiment when a young lady has no real provision behind her. No fortune, no backing. And yet, if aligned properly, she could be quite an asset.”
His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Henry. “To the right man, she offers more than coin ever could.”
He swirled the last of his tea, eyes gleaming above the rim. “Of course, if she were to secure the attention of a man of real consequence, someone with enough stature to… anchor her, then the rest falls into place, doesn’t it? Security. Influence. A future for both girls.”
Nathaniel let out a sharp breath through his nose, barely covering a scoff. “You speak of her as if she were a trade agreement.”
Isaac didn’t blink. “I speak of her as one must, when one carries the burden of responsibility. I’m merely ensuring she is…” he paused, as if choosing a word with care, “...well positioned.”
That was it.
Henry spoke softly, slowly, dangerously calm. “You mean to barter her.”
Isaac raised his brows. “I mean to ensure she does not waste an opportunity.”
“An opportunity,” Henry repeated. “You mean me.”
“I mean whoever is foolish enough to believe she has a choice,” Isaac said, the mask slipping for just a second, just long enough for Henry to see the rot beneath.
Henry stood.
No warning. No announcement. Just the soft scrape of his chair as he rose.
And suddenly, the room felt colder.
Henry stepped forward slowly, each movement measured, not loud, not rushed, but with the quiet intensity of a man who has reached the limits of civility.
“Your cousin,” he said, voice low and flint-edged, “is more honorable than you will ever be. She is not a diversion. She is not your pawn. And if you speak of her again, in any tone other than reverent, I will see to it that you are unwelcome in every drawing room from here to the House of Lords.”
Isaac’s face stiffened. “You threaten me in my own blood’s name?”
