Page 81 of His Forsaken Duchess
In fact, it was dangerously enjoyable.
A group of ladies passed them just then, their whispers audible even as they turned away.
“That’s him,” one murmured behind her gloved hand. “The Duke and his Duchess.”
“And he’s holding her hand!” another gasped, as though it were the greatest scandal imaginable.
Cedric suppressed a groan, though Audrey looked as though she had won a war.
“Let them look,” she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a victorious smile. “This is precisely what we want.”
He looked down at her, his chest tightening in a way that was becoming disturbingly familiar. “You enjoy this far too much.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But so should you.”
By the time the sun began to sink below the horizon, Cedric had lost count of the stores they had visited and the items they had purchased. Audrey walked beside him, her energy seemingly boundless as she prattled on about the various fabrics, styles, and shopkeepers they had encountered.
“Mrs. Hollingsworth nearly fainted when you complimented her work,” she said with a laugh. “I do not think anyone has ever seen you smile before.”
“I hardly think my smile warrants fainting,” Cedric replied dryly.
“You underestimate its effect.”
Cedric looked at her as they walked, at the way her face glowed faintly in the fading light, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to forget.
Forget that this was all a performance. Forget that the walls between them were meant to remain there forever.
But the voice in his head—low, steady, and unwelcome—reminded him otherwise.
You are endangering both of you.
The thought sobered him up, his steps slowing as they neared the carriage. Audrey glanced up at him, furrowing her brow. “Cedric?”
He forced a smile—one of those smiles he reserved for moments such as this. “It’s nothing, Audrey.”
And for now, it would be nothing.
“Perhaps next time, we might visit the British Museum,” Audrey suggested brightly, clutching Cedric’s arm as they strolled down the street. “You might enjoy the exhibits—there are artifacts from Rome, Greece, and Egypt. Truly fascinating.”
Cedric turned his head to look at her, one eyebrow arching in an expression of profound skepticism. “The British Museum?” he repeated, as though she had suggested they tour the sewers beneath London. “Are you attempting to bore me to death?”
Audrey gasped with mock offense, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Bore you? Are you incapable of appreciating history, Your Grace?”
“I have had enough history for a lifetime,” he replied dryly. “I do not need to see a collection of dusty artifacts to remind me of that.”
“They are not dusty,” she argued. “And you might learn something.”
Cedric gave her a sidelong look, his mouth twitching faintly. “I know precisely what I need to know. Namely, that it would be an excruciating experience.”
Audrey sighed dramatically. “And yet you will endure shopping for hours at my command. How very selective of you.”
“Shopping involves far less lecturing,” he shot back.
She laughed, unable to help herself. “You do not fool me, Cedric. You pretend to be miserable, but you are enjoying yourself.”
“I assure you, I am not,” he deadpanned, though the faint smile on his lips betrayed him.
Audrey gave his arm a playful tug. “You cannot lie to me, husband. I know when you are enjoying yourself.”
