Page 10 of His Forsaken Duchess
The sight of her necklace made him freeze.
It was a ruby necklace—Cecilia’s necklace. The one their mother had passed down to her, the one Cecilia had worn on the last day he had seen her alive. Seeing it glinting around the Duchess’s neck now felt like a blow to his chest.
“Where did you find that?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.
She looked at him, perplexed. “In the townhouse,” she replied slowly. “It was in one of the jewelry boxes.”
“Take it off,” he said sharply, the harshness of his tone surprising even himself.
Her hand rose instinctively to the necklace, her brow furrowing. “I beg your pardon?”
“Take it off,” he repeated, his voice cold and unyielding. “And give it to me. In exchange, I will consider helping you.”
The Duchess stared at him, her confusion evident, but she said nothing. Slowly, she unclasped the necklace and handed it to him. He took it, his fingers curling tightly around the chain.
“When do you require my presence in London?” he asked, his voice sounding distant even to himself.
She hesitated, watching him as though trying to read his thoughts. “Perhaps in two weeks,” she said finally. “By then, the initial blow of the scandal will have faded somewhat.”
“Good,” he replied tersely, slipping the necklace into his pocket. “And when are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning,” she answered softly.
“Good,” he said again, this time with finality.
Without another glance, he turned and walked out of the drawing room.
Audrey’s gaze lingered on the doorway long after the Duke had walked out. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, a flicker of anger threatening to rise.
How dare he leave without finishing the conversation?
Yet, another part of her wavered, unsure whether she should follow him or let him go.
Her fingers moved instinctively to her throat, brushing against the bare skin where the ruby necklace had once rested. Without its familiar weight, her neck felt strangely exposed, as if a partof her had been stripped away. A shiver ran through her, though the room was not cold.
It was never mine,she reminded herself.I had no claim to it. It was simply an object, and yet…
Her hand dropped, and she slumped onto the nearest sofa, sighing as the cushions swallowed her. The harshness of his reaction still puzzled her. What could have prompted such a strong response? What did that necklace mean to him?
The sound of footsteps pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Marie standing hesitantly in the doorway along with an older man with neatly combed gray hair and intelligent gray eyes. His posture was impeccably straight, and his demeanor bespoke years of service.
The man bowed slightly. “Your Grace,” he began in a smooth, practiced tone. “I am Mr. Alexander Potts, the butler at Haremore Castle, at your service. I regret to inform you that Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper, is away visiting our grandchild, but she will return tomorrow.”
Audrey rose gracefully, though her mind still swirled with unanswered questions. “A pleasure to meet you, Potts.”
Potts inclined his head again. “Your Grace, may I have the honor of showing you to your chambers?”
“Yes, thank you,” Audrey said with a small nod, her curiosity momentarily piqued.
Are the butler and the housekeeper married? How unorthodox!
She followed him out of the drawing room, Marie trailing silently behind them.
As they ascended the grand staircase, the light streaming through the high windows bathed the polished banister in a warm glow. Potts turned right at the first landing, then turned right again.
“How many rooms are in this castle?” Audrey asked.
“Thirty, Your Grace.”
