Page 99 of His Forsaken Duchess
They moved together with surprising grace, the rest of the ballroom fading into irrelevance. For the first time, Audrey let herself enjoy the moment—let herself lean into the warmth of Cedric’s touch, the strength of his arms, the way his gaze stayed fixed on hers as though no one else existed.
“Look there,” he murmured, breaking the spell.
Audrey followed his gaze to the far side of the ballroom, where Lilianna was waltzing with a young lord who looked as though he might burst with pride. Her sister’s smile was radiant, her cheeks flushed with joy as she laughed at something her partner said.
“She already has a full dance card, I suspect,” Cedric said, his voice soft.
Audrey’s heart swelled, tears pricking her eyes. “As it should be.”
Cedric looked back at her, his expression unreadable. “And so it begins,” he said quietly.
Audrey met his gaze, and for once, she couldn’t find the words to reply.
“You look like you’re ready to escape,” she said softly, glancing up at him as they stood near the ballroom’s edge.
The orchestra swelled behind them, and laughter rang out as couples twirled across the dance floor in elegant formation. Her stepmother, as promised, had taken over the evening’s social management with unmatched grace, effortlessly ushering Lilianna from one warm introduction to the next.
And yet, Cedric looked out of place. His expression, though schooled, remained shadowed, and Audrey recognized the subtle tension in the way he stood—his shoulders too rigid, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side as though itching for something he couldn’t name.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” Audrey asked, nodding her head toward the doors that led to the gardens beyond. “The fresh air might do us some good.”
He glanced down at her, his gaze searching hers as though trying to decipher her intent. For a moment, Audrey feared he might refuse. Then, with a small nod of his head, he said, “Yes, I think I would.”
Audrey’s heart gave a small, inexplicable flutter. She reached for his arm, her gloved hand curling lightly around his sleeve, and guided him out of the ballroom. The cool night air kissed hercheeks the moment they stepped onto the terrace, the warmth of the ballroom falling away like a discarded shawl.
The garden sprawled before them, illuminated faintly by the moonlight and the glow of lanterns hung along the winding paths. The air was still chilly, the lingering bite of spring holding stubbornly against the warmer days ahead. Audrey shivered once but did not release her husband’s arm.
Cedric noticed immediately. “You’re cold,” he murmured, stopping to shrug off his coat.
“I’m fine?—”
“You aren’t,” he said simply, draping the heavy garment over her shoulders before she could protest.
The scent of cedar and something else—him—wrapped around her as intimately as the garment itself.
Audrey resisted the urge to close her eyes and savor it. Instead, she turned to face him, her lips quirking up. “You’re quite attentive tonight, Your Grace.”
He looked down at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Do not let it give you false hope. I’m still the same impossible man I’ve always been.”
“I wouldn’t dream of hoping otherwise,” she teased lightly.
They began walking again, the gravel crunching softly beneath their feet. Silence stretched between them—not an uncomfortable silence, but one heavy with thoughts. Audrey glanced up at him once, noting the way his gaze drifted toward the moonlit hedges as though he were seeing something far beyond the gardens.
Finally, he spoke. “I wish you had been there.”
Audrey frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
His voice was quieter now, rougher, as though the words cost him something. “When Cecilia’s scandal broke,” he said, his gaze fixed ahead. “I wish you had been there for her.”
Audrey stopped walking. His words were unexpected, raw in a way she’d never heard before. “Cedric…”
He turned to face her, his expression shadowed, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced with something softer.Weaker,she thought with a pang of realization.
“You would have made her feel loved, Audrey. Supported. Perhaps…” He paused, swallowing hard, as though the next words pained him. “Perhaps she would still be alive.”
Audrey’s heart twisted sharply at the anguish in his voice, at the stark vulnerability he so rarely revealed. She stepped closer to him, her gloved hand reaching for his. “Cedric, you mustn’t think like that.”
“How can I not?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I was her brother. I should have been able to help her. To save her. Instead, I?—”
