Page 67 of His Forsaken Duchess
Something flickered in her sister’s eyes—a ghost of the fiery spirit Audrey knew lived within her.
With a small nod, Lilianna allowed Audrey to help her off the bed and adjust her rumpled dress. Together, they descended the stairs, their steps slow and steady.
Audrey paused just inside the drawing room, her heart stuttering at the sight of her father. He stood by the window, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his presence as commanding as ever despite the silver streaking his hair. He turned around when they entered, his sharp gaze landing immediately on Audrey.
“Finally,” he said, his voice cool. “You have returned.”
Audrey stiffened, lifting her chin slightly. “I have.”
His gaze flicked to Lilianna, who hovered near the door, her head bowed. “And you have brought your sister down. I suppose that is some progress.”
Audrey’s temper flared, but she kept it tightly in check. “How could you let things get this far?” she demanded, stepping forward. “You know that what they say about her isn’t true. Why would you even consider marrying her off like some—some burden to be rid of?”
Her father’s lips thinned. “Because, Audrey, unlike you, I do not live in fantasies. I have arranged a marriage for Lilianna, and it will proceed as planned.”
“No,” Audrey said sharply. “You cannot do this. She deserves better.”
“And who will give her better?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You? The absent Duchess who left her family to rot while she played the dutiful wife?”
Audrey froze, his words landing like a slap. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady. “I sent letters, Father. Youknewwe were snowed in.”
“And yet you are here now, with barely a fortnight left,” he sneered. “I suggest you do what you claimed you will do before time runs out.”
Audrey’s fists clenched at her sides. “You are being unreasonable.”
“No, I am being realistic,” he snapped. “The arrangements have been made, and I will not undo them. Unless you have some grand plan, I suggest you leave me be.”
Audrey opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. Her chest tightened with frustration, with helplessness, and a sharp, fleeting thought cut through the haze of anger.
Where in God’s name is Cedric?
Just then, a sound came from the doorway, and she turned to see the butler.
Her father turned sharply toward the doorway, his lips thinning in irritation at being interrupted.
“My Lord,” the butler intoned, his voice reverberating through the room, “His Grace, the Duke of Haremore, is here.”
Audrey froze. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as every muscle in her body tensed.
Cedric? Here?
She turned to the butler as if she had misheard him, but there it was—the name that filled her with both dread and fury. Surprise flickered across her father’s face before his expression smoothed into one of carefully measured civility.
“Show him in,” he said, his voice clipped but unmistakably respectful.
Audrey’s hands curled into fists against the folds of her dress as Cedric strode into the room moments later. He was impeccably dressed, though his appearance remained effortlessly imposing. His tall frame, broad shoulders, and dark coat cut a striking figure against the delicate hues of the drawing room.
He paused near the threshold, his brown eyes sweeping over the room until they landed on Audrey.
She glared at him, letting him feel every ounce of her anger.
You might have come, but you are far too late, Your Grace.
His expression didn’t waver—not a single muscle moved. He simply regarded her with that infuriating calmness that suggested nothing ever rattled him.
Her father stepped forward, bowing his head deeply. “Your Grace,” he said smoothly, his tone almost obsequious. “This is an unexpected honor.”
Cedric inclined his head in reply, his manner cool but perfectly polite. “Lord Stonebridge.”
