Page 41 of His Forsaken Duchess
As footmen were dispatched to retrieve the paintings, Audrey’s attention shifted to a chaise tucked against the wall.
“That, too, must be moved,” she declared. “It would look far better nearer the center of the room.”
As the footmen complied, a small chest hidden behind the chaise came into view.
Audrey furrowed her brow. “What is this?” she asked, moving toward it.
Mrs. Potts peered at it, her hands resting on her hips. “That chest has been there for years, Your Grace. I’d quite forgotten about it.”
Audrey knelt gracefully, lifting the lid to reveal a collection of old books, a tarnished music box, and what appeared to be a pair of peculiar shoes with blades affixed to their soles.
“What on earth?” she murmured, lifting one of the strange shoes for inspection.
Mrs. Potts leaned closer. “Good heavens. I’d quite forgotten about those as well.”
Audrey turned the shoe over in her hand, furrowing her brow. “What sort of shoes are these?” she asked. She ran her fingers along the blade, only to hiss sharply as a sting shot through her palm.
Blood welled up from the shallow cut, and she gasped, dropping the shoe back in the chest.
Mrs. Potts’s reaction was immediate and theatrical. “Your Grace!” she cried, rushing to her side. “Oh, dear me! Mr. Potts! Someone fetch the physician! Quickly!”
The maids’ panicked cries echoed through the hall, and before Audrey could protest, Cedric appeared in the doorway, his presence commanding and stern.
“What is going on here?” he demanded, his gaze sweeping across the room before landing on Audrey’s injured hand. He strode forward without waiting for an answer. “Mrs. Potts, there’s no need for a physician. Fetch linen and spirits immediately.”
“But, Your Grace?—”
“Now,” he barked, crouching before Audrey and taking her hand in his. “What happened?”
Audrey flushed under his piercing gaze, her embarrassment mingling with the strange warmth of his touch.
“It is nothing,” she said, attempting to withdraw her hand. “I merely… Well, I was examining the contents of that chest and?—”
“And you cut yourself with something you had no business touching,” he interrupted, his voice clipped with exasperation. “Rearranging the drawing room, were you?”
“I was bored,” she admitted, her cheeks coloring further. “And it was far too cold to remain idle.”
Mrs. Potts returned with the requested items, and Cedric took a strip of linen, soaking it in the spirits before carefully dabbing at her wound. Audrey winced at the sting, and he immediately softened.
“It’s just to clean the cut,” he said quietly. “I promise it will be quick.”
Audrey nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers brushed her skin. The maids and footmen had disappeared, leaving her acutely aware of the silence in the room—and the closeness of her husband.
Cedric worked with quiet efficiency, wrapping her hand securely. When he was finished, he surprised her by lifting her bandaged palm to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it.
Audrey gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”
He glanced up, his expression bemused. “I thought I was being gallant. Is that not what you were expecting?”
“Gallant?” she echoed, finding her voice. “You’re an absentee husband, Cedric.”
His eyebrows rose in mock offense. “And whose idea was that, Audrey?”
Her retort died on the tip of her tongue, a sharp pang piercing her chest. Their arrangement had always suited her, or so she thought. But now, sitting close to him on the floor, she felt a strange ache that she couldn’t quite name.
This is foolishness.Dreamy notions have no place here.
Her gaze fell to the peculiar shoes, desperate for a distraction.
