Page 93 of Corrupting his Duchess
“Good. Then we understand each other.”
“Let's get on with it then,” Anna rubbed her thumb against the rough feel of the arm of the chair.
He smiled. “You thought I wouldn’t mention him. But of course I would. He’s the shadow in every room you walk into now. The one you tried to step around.”
Her stomach sank.
“You made quite the impression at Yeats Hall,” he went on. “Duke and damsel. The whispers haven’t stopped.”
“Then perhaps you should stop listening.”
“But they’re all saying the same thing, aren’t they?” he said gently. “That he looked at you like a man already caught. And you looked back like a girl still waiting to be rescued.”
Her breath caught. She adjusted the cuff of her sleeve to keep her hands busy.
He leaned forward slightly. “But he’s gone now. Isn’t he? And you’re here. Exactly as I said. I told you you'd come back.”
He gave a small exhale through his nose, subtle, pleased, like someone confirming a bet he never truly doubted. “It was only amatter of time. You got swept up in the fantasy. It happens. But fantasy burns off in daylight.”
Anna lifted her chin. “Is this your idea of an opportunity?”
“This is my idea of realism,” he said. “You’re not a fool, Anna. You didn’t come back from that house thinking you’d be a duchess.”
She looked away. The tea tray blurred in her vision.
“I admire you for it,” Matthew said. “You’ve proven yourself steady. Practical. That’s what makes you so different from the rest. You, listening to the voice of reason, shows there's still hope for you.”
He leaned back, pleased with himself. “He might’ve touched your cheek like it meant something. Whispered some sentimental line about feeling safe with you.” His voice dropped mockingly, “He made you feel special– was that it?”
You make me feel safe…Her stomach twisted. The room seemed too warm all of a sudden.
She could still feel it, Henry’s hand against her face, the tremor in his voice when he said those very words. He had meant them. She knew it.
Her eyes burned. One tear broke loose and slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
“And what exactly is it you think I’ve proven?” she asked, her voice tight.
“That you know when to let go.”
She looked at him then. “Is that what you think I did?”
He tilted his head. “Didn’t you?”
No, she thought.I was pushed. I was discarded.And yet here she was. Sitting. Listening. Choosing.
“You don’t need to love me,” he said, voice softer now. “I’m not asking for that. But I can offer you certainty. A name. Protection.”
From Stenton. From poverty. From the shame of being left. From the ache in her chest that still whispered Henry’s name every time she was alone.
“I don’t believe you’re offering protection,” she said quietly.
He smiled faintly. “No. I suppose I’m offering inevitability.”
A silence fell. The mantel clock ticked too loudly in the corner. The fire crackled softly but brought no real warmth. The air in the room felt too close, as if it had been waiting to press down on her.
“Anna, I've come to offer you something clear. Steady. A future.” He gestured loosely with one hand. “No more doubt. No more guessing who’s watching or whispering. You deserve that.”
“Do I?”
