Page 100 of His Forsaken Duchess
“You loved her,” Audrey interrupted gently. “And you did what you thought was right. What happened to Cecilia was not your fault.”
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “That’s easy to say.”
“It isn’t,” she replied softly. “I know guilt, Cedric. I know how it lingers—how it sinks its claws into your heart until you can barely breathe. But guilt is not love. It does not serve Cecilia’s memory to let it consume you.”
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s all I’ve known since she died.”
Audrey squeezed his hand, her voice stronger now. “Then let it go. Live, Cedric. Live the life she couldn’t—for both of you.”
His gaze searched hers, and Audrey felt the intensity of it, as though he were trying to determine if she meant the words she spoke.
Slowly, he nodded, though it was hesitant, as if he weren’t entirely sure how to take that step. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I know you’re right.”
Audrey smiled faintly. “Of course, I am.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and something in his expression shifted, as though the tension had lifted slightly from his shoulders. He stepped closer to her, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the quiet of the garden.
“You always know what to say,” he murmured.
Audrey’s breath hitched. The space between them seemed to shrink without either of them moving. “I try,” she replied, though the words came out barely above a whisper.
Cedric lifted his hand, his fingers brushing a loose curl from her cheek. The simple touch sent warmth through her, and she froze, suddenly aware of how close he was. The world seemed to fall away—the hum of distant music, the lantern light, even the cool spring air. All she could see was him.
And then he kissed her.
It was not tentative or unsure, as she might have expected. His lips captured hers with a quiet intensity, firm and yet heartbreakingly tender. Her eyes fluttered shut, her hand rising instinctively to rest against his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heart beneath her palm, matching the wild rhythm of her own.
For a moment, nothing else mattered—not the whispers of the ton, not their complicated marriage, not the ghosts of the past that haunted him. There was only this. Him. Them.
The sound of giggling shattered the moment like glass.
Audrey started, stepping back slightly as the laughter grew louder, carried toward them on the breeze. Cedric straightened as well, though he lingered close, his gaze holding hers for a beat longer than necessary before the moment fell away.
“Children,” she murmured, forcing a small smile as she glanced toward the distant hedges.
“Or bored debutantes,” Cedric added dryly.
Audrey let out a shaky breath, still feeling the warmth of his touch. “Perhaps we should return before the gossips find something to say.”
“Yes,” he agreed, though his voice was quieter.
They turned back toward the ballroom, the gravel crunching softly underfoot. Audrey’s thoughts were still tangled, her lips still tingling, her heart refusing to settle. She risked a glance at Cedric, who walked beside her in silence, his expression unreadable.
Just as they reached the terrace steps, they stopped abruptly.
A gentleman and a young lady stood a few paces ahead of them, partially hidden by the shadows. The girl’s ivory gown glowed faintly in the lantern light—a debutante, by the look of her. She gasped softly, her head turning toward them.
Audrey’s gaze shifted to the man standing beside her, and to Cedric, who had frozen beside her like a statue carved from stone.
“Cedric?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He did not respond. His gaze remained fixed on the stranger, his face pale, his body still as though he’d seen a ghost.
Thirty-Five
“Cedric?”
He didn’t answer.
