Page 94 of His Forsaken Duchess
Audrey’s voice came softly from behind him. “That is what I fear most.”
Cedric turned sharply, his gaze piercing as he faced her. “We need to keep an eye on her. Lady Lilianna may appear well on the surface, but beneath it, she is vulnerable. If Rashford is as much of a snake as I suspect, he will know how to twist that vulnerability into something dangerous.”
Audrey nodded, though her shoulders seemed to slump slightly. “I agree. But I spoke with my mother earlier, and she seems hopeful. She mentioned Lord Belleville’s attentions—how kind and steady they are. She wants to believe that this will all end well. That Lilianna will recover.”
Cedric’s expression darkened as he crossed his arms over his chest once more. “Belleville is not looking for a wife.”
Audrey sighed and moved to the chair by the fire, sitting down with an uncharacteristic weariness. “I know,” she admitted. “But hope is a difficult thing to quash. I want it for her too—for Lilianna, for my mother. I want them to have respite from all this.”
Cedric’s anger faltered slightly at the quiet grief in her tone. His eyes softened as he watched her sitting there, her shoulders drawn and her hands folded tightly in her lap. Before he could think better of it, he stepped toward her and rested his hands gently on her shoulders.
Audrey started slightly at the contact, tilting her head up to look at him. For a moment, she hesitated, her composure fraying at the edges.
“Did you know,” she said quietly, her voice soft but steady, “that my mother struggled to conceive?”
Cedric frowned, caught off guard. “No.”
“She did,” Audrey murmured, her gaze dropping to her lap. “And when she finally gave birth to Lilianna and me, it nearly killed her. In the end, it did.” She paused, her fingers twisting together. “Our father never forgave us for it. He blamed us—blamed her—for failing him. For the estate passing to the Crown. Even when he remarried, my stepmother gave him another daughter, and she suffered under the same cruel disappointment.”
Cedric’s chest tightened at the pain in her voice. The admission, so raw and unguarded, struck him like a physical blow.
“I learned early on,” Audrey continued, her voice cracking slightly, “that the only way to survive was to be in control. To know the rules of every situation. To anticipate every outcome.” She swallowed hard, blinking against the firelight. “I want Lilianna and Clarise to succeed. I want them to have the life they deserve. I want Grace to have peace.”
Cedric moved without thought, sitting beside her on the edge of the chair. He reached for her then, drawing her gently into his arms. Audrey stiffened at first, clearly startled, but when he didn’t let go, she relented, resting her head against his chest, her breaths soft and steady.
“No harm will come to your sister,” Cedric said quietly, his voice rough but steady. “I swear it.”
Audrey tilted her head back slightly to look up at him, her eyes shadowed with doubt. “You cannot promise that.”
“I can,” Cedric said firmly, his arms tightening around her. “I failed Cecilia, but I will not fail Lady Lilianna. I will see Rashford brought to heel, whatever it takes.”
Audrey’s fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, her touch light but grounding. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled only by the crackling of the fire.
Cedric closed his eyes briefly, his chin resting on the crown of her head. Holding her like this—so close and so trusting—sent a strange, aching warmth through him. He had thought himself immune to such things as comfort or tenderness. He had spent years building walls to keep them out, believing they would only invite pain. And yet, as he held Audrey in his arms, the emotions within him shifted.
The memory of Cecilia lingered at the edges of his mind, but for the first time, it didn’t feel as heavy. Audrey’s presence filled the space, soothing the old wounds he hadn’t realized were still raw.
“I will protect her,” he said again, his voice softer this time, as though he were reassuring himself as much as her.
Audrey sighed faintly, her breath warming the fabric of his coat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Cedric looked down at her, his dark eyes lingering on the delicate curve of her cheek and the way the firelight kissed her hair. He had told himself for so long that love was a weakness, an affliction he could not afford. But as he sat there, holding his wife, the thought crept unbidden into his mind.
What if I am falling in love with her?
The realization unsettled him, coiling in his chest like a rope. He could not allow it. And yet he did not let her go.
Thirty-Three
Audrey stood before the gilded mirror in her bedchamber, studying her reflection with critical eyes. The soft candlelight danced across the silk of her dress—an icy blue that shimmered like a winter morning. It was a deliberate choice, one that struck a careful balance between understated elegance and confident poise.
The dress’s square neckline flattered her shoulders, while the delicate embroidery at the hem whispered refinement, not ostentation. Audrey allowed herself a small smile.
Her hair had been arranged into an elaborate but controlled cascade of curls, pinned with tiny pearls that caught the light. It was a look meant to make an impression—not only for herself but for Lilianna.
If the Duchess of Haremore appears unassailable, then so will her family.
And yet Cedric was nowhere to be seen.
