Page 44 of His Forsaken Duchess
Relief shot through Cedric, cutting through the haze. “Excellent,” he said, rising from his chair with brisk determination. “Exactly what I need.”
He crossed to the door, his strides purposeful. As he passed Potts, the butler hesitated, furrowing his brow slightly.
“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” he asked.
Cedric paused, glancing back at the ruby necklace still lying on his desk. Then, he straightened. “Everything is fine, Potts,” he said evenly. “Lead the way.”
And with that, he left the room, leaving the past where it belonged—buried but never truly forgotten.
Cedric’s heart thudded in his chest the following afternoon, and his pacing grew more agitated. He tugged at his cravat for what felt like the hundredth time, the crisp linen suddenly feeling suffocating.
The drawing room was warm, almost stifling, but he suspected that had more to do with his inner turmoil than the roaring fire in the grate. He glanced toward the window, beyond which the bright winter sun glinted off the snowy landscape. His eyesflickered to the distant horizon, where the lake lay hidden, a place of frozen water and darker memories.
He had not skated since… well, since Cecilia’s death. His chest tightened at the thought, the ache as sharp and familiar as it had been all those years ago. The lake was the home of a great tragedy, a place where too much had been lost. The idea of returning there now, with Audrey of all people, felt reckless. He knew he had invited her to skate, had offered to teach her as a way to coax her out of the cold confines of the castle. But what had possessed him? Perhaps it was madness. Perhaps it was folly.
The door creaked open, startling him.
Cedric spun on his heel, only to find Peter Potts standing there, a large box in his arms and a grin on his face.
“I worked as fast as I could, Your Grace,” the boy announced, striding in and setting the box down on the table with the enthusiasm of one presenting a royal treasure.
Cedric exhaled, the sight of Peter’s youthful exuberance soothing his frayed nerves. “Well done, Peter,” he said, his voice steady.
He opened the box and inspected its contents, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Peter’s eyes sparkled as he leaned in, practically bouncing on his heels. “Will the Duchess be here today?” he asked eagerly.“I asked Mrs. Potts for an introduction, but she must have forgotten—or maybe she got carried away. Shedoesget carried away sometimes, doesn’t she?”
Cedric chuckled despite himself. “Stay here, and you shall meet her soon enough,” he replied. “She’ll be joining us shortly.”
As if summoned by his words, the door opened again and Audrey entered the room.
Peter’s eyes widened, and his mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of astonishment. He froze as if struck by lightning, his youthful energy replaced by a kind of reverent awe.
“Your Grace,” he stammered, bowing so low that he nearly toppled over. “I-I h-hope you’ll like His Grace’s gift!” He gestured toward the box, his face redder than a ripe apple.
Audrey’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced between the boy and Cedric. “His Grace’s gift?” she repeated, her tone teasing. “How intriguing.”
Cedric cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “That will be all, Peter.”
The boy hesitated, casting one last starstruck glance at Audrey. “If you’re ever in need of a cloakmaker, Your Grace, you must consider me,” he blurted out. “I’ve been apprenticing under my aunt, and I’m quite good at it.”
Audrey laughed—a warm and genuine sound. “I shall certainly keep you in mind, Peter. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
Peter’s cheeks flushed deeper as he skipped out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Cedric chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to Audrey. “He’s hopelessly enamored,” he remarked, only to find her brilliant blue eyes fixed on him.
“You’re fond of him,” she noted, her tone light but knowing.
Cedric arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think so?”
She tilted her head, a playful smile gracing her lips. “He speaks to you as if you’re not the gruff and brooding Duke of Haremore.”
His lips curled into a smile. “I am not a beast, you know.”
“Of course not,” she replied with mock seriousness. “You’re merely a gruff and brooding duke.”
He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained.
