Page 40 of His Forsaken Duchess
Audrey stilled for a moment, her eyes meeting his, something unreadable flickering in them. “Very well, Cedric,” she said softly. “You may call me Audrey. After all, you no longer feel like a stranger to me.”
Her words struck him with more force than he had expected, the truth of them settling in his chest. They had been strangers throughout their marriage. Strangers bound by expectations, convenience, and duty. But here, trapped by the storm and the solitude of the castle, they had started to get to know each other.
And now that he was getting to know his wife, Cedric realized that he wanted to know more. What did she like? What did she dislike? What made her smile, laugh, or even scowl? What secrets she hadn’t shared yet?
He shook his head, interrupting his train of thought.
Clearing his throat, he straightened. “Audrey,” he said, testing her name as if it was a foreign language. “Will you play another tune?”
Her lips curled into a soft smile, and she inclined her head. “Of course, Cedric.”
She turned back to the pianoforte, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys as a gentle melody filled the room.
Cedric leaned against the piano, watching her with a quiet intensity.
Twelve
Audrey sighed heavily, her breath clouding the frosted windowpane. The snow outside was relentless, falling in thick sheets that blanketed the world in a stark and unyielding white. She pressed her forehead lightly against the cold pane, drumming her fingers on the sill.
Two days.Two days of confinement, two days of carefully avoiding Cedric except for dinner, and two days of interminable, maddening boredom.
Her hand dropped to her lap as she straightened, her mind racing. She had been actively avoiding him, yet her thoughts insisted on circling back to him. Something had shifted since their conversation in the music room—something intangible but very much present. And while his apology for shouting at her had been graciously received, the memory of his anger lingered, gnawing at the edges of her composure.
“Miss Smith!” she called suddenly, her tone decisive.
Her lady’s maid appeared promptly, her hands folded primly in front of her. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“I wish to rearrange my chamber,” Audrey declared, standing up abruptly. “This room has felt far too dull of late.”
Miss Smith’s eyes widened slightly. “Rearrange, Your Grace?”
“Yes. Rearrange,” Audrey confirmed, moving toward the wardrobe. “It will do wonders for my mood.”
And thus began a whirlwind morning that left the housemaids pale and trembling as they tried to keep up with the Duchess’s relentless instructions. By the time her bedchamber was sufficiently reordered, Miss Smith looked as though she might collapse. Audrey, however, stood surveying the results with her hands on her hips and a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Well,” she murmured, rubbing her hands together. “That was most invigorating. Now, the drawing room.”
Miss Smith’s gasp of horror was muffled as Audrey swept past her, heading purposefully downstairs. She wasted no time in summoning footmen to help her rearrange the drawing room’s furniture. With her typical precision, she directed them to move the sofas closer to the hearth and adjust the chairs for optimal comfort.
It wasn’t long before the housemaids’ increasingly frantic whispers reached Mrs. Potts, who marched into the room with an exasperated expression.
“Your Grace,” she began, planting herself firmly near the hearth. “I have just been informed by the maids that you areworking.”
Audrey laughed, glancing over her shoulder. “Nonsense, Mrs. Potts. I am merely giving instructions.”
Mrs. Potts raised an eyebrow. “And moving furniture is not work?”
“Not when one doesn’t lift anything,” Audrey countered, her lips twitching with amusement.
Mrs. Potts shook her head with a sigh. “What, may I ask, is your intent here, Your Grace?”
“I am rearranging the room for warmth,” Audrey said breezily, gesturing toward the hearth. “The furniture was far too distant. I mean to make it more agreeable.”
The housekeeper’s expression softened into one of approval. “A fine idea, Your Grace. Truly inspired.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” Audrey replied. “Now, if you could assist me further, I was thinking some of the unhung paintings from the gallery would brighten the space.”
Mrs. Potts nodded briskly. “An excellent idea. I’ll see to it.”
