Page 9 of His Forsaken Duchess
The Duchess blinked, clearly taken aback, her lips parting as though she meant to respond.
Cedric’s gaze flicked to her lips—plump, pink, and undeniably tempting. He clenched his fists at his sides, berating himself inwardly.
Control yourself, man.
With a small shake of her head, she turned on her heel and ascended the steps, her movements precise and deliberate. Cedric followed, his expression impassive, though his irritation simmered just beneath the surface.
She paused in the grand foyer, her eyes sweeping over the surroundings. Cedric tilted his head, waiting for some comment on the state of the interior or the lack of refinement.
The Duchess turned to face him. “Is the great hall always this cold?”
Cedric wanted to laugh. She said precisely what he thought she would. “This is Cumberland, Duchess. It is colder than most of England.”
She looked at the crackling fire, and he thought he saw her shiver. “What about the rest of the castle?”
“It is warm enough.”
“Something tells me we have differing definitions of ‘warm enough.’”
She made her way toward the drawing room. Cedric trailed after her, intrigued.
Her gaze swept over the space with a faintly critical air, one eyebrow rising. She took in the dark paneling, the heavy draperies, and the worn but well-kept furniture. When she turned to face him, her expression was guarded.
“Have you ever thought to redecorate the castle?”
Oh, I certainly married a princess.
“I do not indulge in unnecessary things,” he replied, then folded his arms across his chest, leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You seemed quite content with our agreement to lead separate lives,” he said, his voice sharp yet calm. “I must assume your visit comes with a purpose. Spare me the pleasantries and get to the point.”
The Duchess flinched slightly at his bluntness, but her composure returned swiftly. She drew in a breath, lifting her chin as if bracing herself. “My sister,” she began, her voice steady but tense, “is embroiled in a scandal. I need your help to fix her reputation.”
Cedric stiffened, the words slamming into him like a physical blow. His grip on the doorframe tightened, his mind unwillingly dragging forth memories he had long buried. The sharp pain of loss and betrayal surged anew, but he forced his expression into neutrality, though his jaw clenched tightly.
“I cannot help you with that,” he said abruptly, his voice clipped. He turned on his heel, about to walk out. “It would be inappropriate for me to interfere in your family affairs.”
“Duke, please?—”
Her voice, so calm yet insistent, made him pause. He felt her hand catch his sleeve, the delicate pressure of her fingers through the fabric startling him. He stopped, his entire body tensing.
Slowly, he looked down at the gloved fingers clutching the dark fabric of his coat. She must have noticed his reaction, for she quickly pulled her hand away, straightening her posture with a touch of awkwardness.
“I thought you didn’t care about being disrespectful to anyone,” she said, her tone edged with exasperation.
His lips curled into a humorless smile as he turned to face her. “You’re right. I don’t care about what the ton thinks,” he admitted. “But I do care about disrespecting another patriarch’s authority. Your father can manage his household as he pleases.”
She sighed, visibly grappling with her frustration. “I am not asking you to take over his role or challenge his authority. All I ask is that you attend a few events with us. Talk to a few people. Present a united front.” Her voice softened, almost pleading. “You may not frequent Society, but you are one of the most influential men in it. Your ties to the Royal Family alone could silence any gossip.”
His instincts screamed at him to refuse her outright, to avoid any entanglement with the ton and the vipers who dwelled there. Yet, her words, combined with her steady gaze, tugged at something deep within him.
“I would not ask you unless I thought your help was my last hope and the only thing that could save her.”
He felt the old, familiar guilt creeping in, tightening around his chest like a vice.
She stepped back from him, and her luminous blue eyes met his. For a moment, he found himself captivated.
Why must she look at me like that?
His defenses began to waver, but then she removed her cloak and draped it over the back of a chair.
