Page 51 of His Forsaken Duchess
“I have every reason to fuss,” he replied. “You nearly froze to death, Audrey.”
The bluntness of his words silenced her. His face was serious, his eyes holding a depth of emotion that made her pulse stutter. She wanted to argue, to make light of her condition, but somethingabout his expression stopped her. Instead, she nodded slowly, offering him a small, reassuring smile.
“I will eat,” she said gently. “And I will rest. But only if you stop glaring at Mr. Whittaker.”
Cedric’s mouth twitched, though whether in amusement or exasperation, she couldn’t tell.
“The physician has been dismissed,” he said firmly, rising and stepping toward the door.
Mr. Whittaker took the opportunity to bow quickly and excuse himself, leaving the room in swift, almost relieved silence.
Cedric returned to the bed, lowering himself into the chair beside her. When the maid arrived moments later with the tray of soup, he took it from her hands and dismissed her with a nod. He carefully placed the tray on the bedside table and adjusted the pillows behind Audrey, helping her sit up slightly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, lifting the spoon to her lips.
The warmth of the soup spread through her, chasing away the chill in her bones. She glanced at him, his face still etched with concern.
“Tell me about your adventures,” she said suddenly, her tone light. “The real ones.”
His eyebrow rose slightly. “The real ones?”
“Yes,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I refuse to believe that a man like you has not seen the world beyond our borders. Surely, there are stories that would scandalize even the boldest of the ton.”
Cedric let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “Very well,” he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctant humor. “There was one journey when I was younger. My father insisted I travel to broaden my horizons.”
“And did your horizons broaden?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Perhaps more than he intended,” Cedric replied. “I spent several months in the Far East. Japan, specifically. It was there that I met a monk who offered to teach me discipline.”
Audrey’s eyebrows shot up, her curiosity piqued. “Discipline? Surely, that wasn’t necessary. You are the most disciplined man I know.”
Cedric’s lips curled into a wry smile. “That is because you did not know me back then. The monk insisted I fast for nine days. It was, as he put it, the first step toward true clarity.”
Audrey’s laughter was soft but genuine, her weariness momentarily forgotten. “Nine days? Cedric, you must have starved.”
“The first three days were…” He paused, his gaze distant for a moment. “Gruesome. But by the ninth day, I felt lighter. Renewed, even. As though something in me had shifted.”
Audrey studied him, her heart stirring at the rare glimpse into a part of him she hadn’t known. “Do you still practice what he taught you?”
“Not as often as I should,” he admitted, his tone faintly rueful. “But I remember his lessons well. He believed that true strength lay not in the body, but in the mind.”
“And what did you believe?” she asked softly.
Cedric met her gaze, his dark eyes steady. “I believed,” he said after a moment, “that the mind and the heart are far more intertwined than he cared to admit.”
Audrey’s chest tightened at his words, her pulse quickening as his gaze lingered on hers. For a moment, the room felt smaller, the space between them charged with tension.
“Tell me more,” she whispered.
Cedric regarded her for a moment, as though debating whether to continue, then leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly.
“From Japan, I traveled to Prussia,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “A land as starkly different from Japan as night fromday. If Japan was a masterclass in discipline, then Prussia was an unending carnival of indulgence.”
Audrey tilted her head, intrigued. “Indulgence? Surely, not all the noblemen were as debauched as you make them sound.”
Cedric’s lips quirked up faintly, a ghost of a smile. “You’d be surprised, Duchess. Their court is a viper’s nest—every handshake, every smile hides a blade. It was not uncommon to hear whispered warnings to beware of the drink offered to you. One had to choose carefully whose hospitality to accept.”
Audrey’s eyes widened, her spoon pausing midair. “Poisoning?” she asked, her voice high-pitched with shock. “Surely not.”
