Page 59 of His Forsaken Duchess
“Have a good day, Audrey,” he said softly.
Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone with the lingering warmth of his touch and the faint scent of his cologne.
Audrey closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, they would leave for London, and everything would change. But for now, she allowed herself to savor this moment, this fleeting connection that had sparked between them.
Just before noon, Audrey stood outside Cedric’s study, her hand hovering over the door. The faint sound of movement inside made her hesitate, but she reminded herself that she was a duchess.
Nothing perturbs you… except him, perhaps.
With a determined breath, she rapped her knuckles lightly against the wood.
“Enter,” came Cedric’s deep voice.
She pushed the door open, stepping inside with quiet grace.
Cedric stood by the tall window, a letter in hand, his back to her. The light streaming through the glass outlined his broad shoulders, his head inclined slightly as he read. He did not turn around, the silence stretching until Audrey felt compelled to break it.
“Do you always read correspondence while standing?” she asked, her voice deliberately light.
Cedric’s head turned, his expression impassive as he folded the letter with military precision. “I find it more efficient,” he said, his voice carrying just a hint of amusement. “To what do I owe this visit, Audrey?”
Audrey crossed the room with poise, her hands clasped before her. She allowed her gaze to sweep across the space, taking in the dark-paneled walls and austere furnishings.
“If I were to renovate Haremore Castle,” she remarked, the faintest smile curving her lips, “I believe I would start with this study.”
“Would you?” Cedric replied, a hint of humor flickering in his warm brown eyes. “Let me save you the trouble. Do not touch anything in my castle.”
“Not even these dreary draperies?” She arched an eyebrow, feigning disappointment. “Surely they have seen better days.”
“They are perfectly serviceable, and I will not have them subjected to your London whims.”
“Whims?” Audrey placed a hand on her chest, affecting an expression of mock indignation. “You make me sound frightfully capricious.”
“Only because you are,” Cedric replied smoothly, his tone teasing. “Now, why are you here? Surely not because you enjoy my company.”
Her lips twitched, but she refused to let him see her amusement. “Enjoy your company? Hardly. I find you insufferable.”
“And yet here you are,” he countered, leaning casually against the edge of his desk. “Perhaps you’ve come to inform me how much longer I must endure your presence.”
Audrey’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but she recovered quickly, masking the pang in her chest with a raised chin.
No, I will not enjoy leaving at all.
“Well,” she said, her voice cool but steady, “I thought it prudent to discuss a matter of some importance.”
Her fingers tightened around each other as she readied herself to mention Cecilia’s diary. Yet, as she met his gaze, dark and impenetrable, her resolve wavered. She hesitated, her words dying on her tongue.
The west wing—he had not given her permission to go there. What would he say if he knew that she had found Cecilia’s diary?
He might never forgive me.
Instead, she forced a bright smile. “I’ve come to summon you to dance practice.”
Cedric’s eyebrows rose, his surprise evident. “Dance practice?”
“Yes,” Audrey said with an air of nonchalance, as if this were a perfectly reasonable request. “We are to attend several events together in London, and as we have never danced as husband and wife, I think it wise to rehearse.”
“Rehearse?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “I assure you, I know how to dance, Audrey.”
