Page 65 of His Forsaken Duchess
Cedric had swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. He had known she was beautiful, but seeing her so near—so real—was something else entirely.
Focus, he had told himself.She is like the others—shallow, vain, and scheming.
When her father handed her to him, her gloved hand trembled faintly in his. Cedric had ignored it, pushing down the disquiet that threatened to rise.
“Do smile, Your Grace,” she had whispered then, her voice low but clear. “Everyone is watching.”
The words had struck him like a slap, his irritation instant and fierce.
What woman orders a man like this?he fumed silently, his lips pressing into a hard line.
The arrogance, the audacity—no, it only proved what he already knew. She cared for nothing beyond appearances, for the opinions of people who did not matter at all.
He had barely tolerated the ceremony, reciting his vows with all the enthusiasm of a man reading his death sentence. And when it was over, as she prattled on about the perfect wedding breakfast she had arranged—flowers and pineapples, for God’s sake—he had felt the last of his patience snap.
“I have done my duty,” he had told her the moment they stepped outside. “I am leaving for Cumberland. That is all.”
She had stared at him, her blue eyes wide and startled, the beginnings of hurt flashing across her face. He had ignored it, had turned and left, feeling a satisfaction that had turned almost immediately into something bitter and sharp.
Cedric stopped suddenly, his breath catching as he looked up. The church stood before him, its tall spire silhouetted against the darkening sky. He stared at it, unblinking, as though it had appeared out of nowhere.
What in God’s name am I doing here?
The image of Audrey’s disappointed face lingered at the edge of his mind, as vivid now as it had been back then. His fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he turned on his heel, as though the memory itself might chase him down.
But it was too late. It had already taken root.
Twenty-Two
Audrey’s boot tapped a restless rhythm on the wooden floor of the carriage. Outside, London passed in a dull blur of gray stone and flickering lamplight, but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were too consumed by the events of the previous day—specifically, theDuke of Haremore, who apparently thought that ignoring her existence was the perfect remedy for his foul mood.
Her jaw clenched as she remembered him riding beside the coachman for the remainder of their journey to London.
Honestly,if he wished to avoid me so badly, he might have stayed in Cumberland.
And then last night—oh, last night—he had ignored her entirely, vanishing from the house like a phantom and only returning well past midnight. She had half a mind to throw a boot at him when she heard the door creak open in the dead of night.
She understood that the townhouse carried so many memories—of his sister, his family—but why must she pay the price for his misery? Why musthemake her feel as though she were an unwelcome guest in her own home?
The carriage jolted to a stop, and Audrey’s heart lurched in tandem.
“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, adjusting her bonnet and smoothing down the folds of her traveling dress with sharp, agitated movements.
The door opened, and she accepted the butler’s hand as she alighted, her steps brisk and purposeful.
“Welcome to Stonebridge House, Your Grace,” he intoned with a graceful bow.
“Thank you,” Audrey replied, though she did not pause to exchange pleasantries.
She swept past him, the soft swishing of her skirts echoing her irritation as she marched toward the drawing room.
She had barely crossed the threshold when she heard an exclamation.
“Audrey!”
Grace rose from the settee in a flurry of skirts, her face lighting up with equal parts relief and joy. Beside her, Clarise stood as well, her shy smile easing the pressure in Audrey’s chest.
“Oh, my dear,” Grace said warmly, rushing to clasp Audrey’s hands. “When did you arrive in London? We did not receive word!”
