Page 52 of His Forsaken Duchess
“Oh, it is more common than you think,” Cedric replied with a dry laugh. “The coward’s way to eliminate an opponent, but it has been effective for centuries. The Romans perfected the art of it.”
Audrey shook her head, half in disbelief. “So, all the while you mingled with these people, you had to watch every sip you took?”
“Indeed,” Cedric said. “It was starkly different from Japan. There, I learned discipline, restraint, and even humility. In Prussia, it was a matter of survival to do the opposite—to feign camaraderie while trusting no one. The atmosphere nearly unraveled every lesson I had learned in the East.”
Audrey set her empty bowl aside, her blue eyes bright with interest. “I cannot imagine you indulging in such debauchery, Cedric.”
“Of course not,” he said, his tone lighter now. “I played my part—listened, observed—but I was no participant in their games. My father would have been horrified had I brought such habits back to England.”
She laughed and reached to lift the tray from her lap.
Cedric immediately got to his feet and removed the tray. “You’ve finished your soup.”
Audrey nodded, sitting back against the pillows. “It was wonderful. You are quite the caretaker, Cedric.”
He smiled faintly but didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze distant. She recognized the shift in him instantly, the way his body seemed to hold tension even though he appeared composed.
“Your father,” she said softly. “What was he like?”
Cedric’s expression shifted, the humor fading from his features. He lowered his gaze briefly before meeting hers again. “My father was a complicated man,” he said at last. “He loved deeply—too deeply, perhaps. When my mother and sister…” He paused, swallowing hard. “When they died, it broke him.”
Audrey frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “What happened to her?”
Cedric’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he was silent. Then, with a slow exhale, he said, “I owe you an apology, Audrey, for taking you to the lake. For what happened.”
“It was not your fault,” she interjected quickly. “You couldn’t have known?—”
“But I should have,” Cedric said, his voice firm, his eyes dark with guilt. “That lake… it has taken too much from my family already. I should have known better than to take you there.”
Audrey tilted her head, curious and apprehensive. “Taken?” she echoed softly. “Cedric, what do you mean?”
His throat worked as he swallowed again, his gaze distant. “My mother,” he said finally. “She drowned in that lake—” He stopped, the words stuck in his throat.
Audrey’s heart twisted. “She… went swimming?” she asked tentatively.
Cedric shook his head, his expression haunted. “No. She walked into the water, fully clothed, and let it take her. She had been melancholy for months after Cecilia…” he trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. “After my sister died.”
Audrey’s breath caught, her hand flying to her mouth. “Cedric,” she gasped, horrified. “I had no idea.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, his composure slipping further. “I was the one who found her,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Her body was floating near the edge, her skirts caught in the reeds. I can still see her face, even now.”
Audrey reached out instinctively, her fingers curling around his hand. The pain etched on his features was almost unbearable to witness.
“She was never the same after Cecilia,” Cedric continued, his voice steadier now, though still heavy with grief. “And Cecilia… her death was no accident either.”
Audrey furrowed her brow. “I thought she…” She hesitated, unwilling to repeat the rumors she had heard in hushed whispers.
Cedric nodded grimly. “She was humiliated by the ton. Seduced, shamed, ostracized. When she saw no way forward, she…” His voice cracked again, and he turned his head, unable to meet her gaze. “She ended her life, Audrey. And I had to keep it quiet, for her sake. If the ton had known, they would have torn her memory apart—ridiculed her even in death.”
Audrey’s heart ached for him, for the burden he had carried alone for so long. She tightened her grip on his hand, her voice firm but gentle. “It was not your fault, Cedric.”
He let out a bitter laugh, his gaze still averted. “Wasn’t it? I was her brother. I should have protected her, defended her. Instead, I let her face that world alone.”
“You were a boy,” Audrey said softly. “You could not have stopped the cruelty of the ton.”
Cedric finally looked at her, his eyes shadowed with guilt and grief. “And yet I tried to, after the fact. I buried the truth, ensured that her name was left out of the scandal sheets. But it wasn’t enough. I failed her, and my mother, and my father.”
Audrey frowned. “Your father?”
