Page 101 of His Forsaken Duchess
His heart pounded in his chest as his gaze remained fixed on the man standing just beyond the hedge. The figure turned slightly, his profile coming into view, and everything fell into place with a sickening certainty.
Lord Rashford.
Memories rose like bile in Cedric’s throat. He had seen his sister dance with him during her Season, never giving Cedric cause to question his intentions. Not until it was too late. Not until now.
“Cedric, what is it?” Audrey pressed, her hand tightening around his arm.
He swallowed thickly, his voice low and tight. “That’s Rashford.”
Audrey followed his gaze, her eyebrows drawing together. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” Cedric replied icily.
He stared hard at Rashford, who was lingering on the garden path with the young lady—no more than eighteen by the look of her ivory gown. The girl smiled up at him, clearly unaware of the danger at her side.
The rage Cedric had been holding back for years burned hot in his veins. His hands curled into fists as he took a step forward.
“Cedric, wait,” Audrey said sharply, but he barely heard her.
The gravel crunched loudly beneath his boots as he advanced on them, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. Rashford turned his head at the sound, his expression shifting from smug amusement to one of vague recognition.
“Did you ruin Lady Cecilia Hall?” Cedric demanded, his voice low but vibrating with fury.
There it was, the flicker of recognition. It flashed in Rashford’s eyes before he masked it with false confusion. But Cedric saw enough. Heknew.
Rashford furrowed his brow dramatically. “I beg your pardon? I haven’t the slightest idea?—”
“Do not lie to me,” Cedric cut in, his voice sharp as a blade.
The young lady beside Rashford looked between them, her face pale with uncertainty.
Cedric shifted his gaze to her briefly. “Leave us, Miss, if you know what’s good for you.”
The girl started at his tone, glancing helplessly at Rashford, who smiled tightly. “Now, now, there’s no need?—”
“Go.” Cedric’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.
The girl hesitated for a moment before curtsying quickly and hurrying back toward the terrace. Once she was gone, Cedric turned his full attention to Rashford, who had straightened to his full height, his smile returning, sharper now.
“I ask you again,” Cedric said coldly, stepping closer. “Did you ruin Lady Cecilia Hall?”
“Ruin?” Rashford repeated, sounding incredulous. “I did nothing of the sort.”
Cedric ground his teeth together. “Do not play games with me. I remember you—hovering near her, watching her, dancing with her. You think I would forget?”
“I think you’ve gone mad,” Rashford replied smoothly, his smile smug. “Whoever this Lady Cecilia is, I assure you I bear no responsibility for whatever befell her.”
Cedric’s vision darkened at the edges, his pulse roaring in his ears. “Then what of Lady Lilianna Winslow?”
Rashford stilled just slightly, his expression flickering, but he recovered quickly. “Lady Lilianna? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“You sent her a note,” Audrey said firmly, stepping forward. Her voice was calm, but Cedric could hear the edge of anger beneath it. “Asking her to meet you. Do not deny it.”
Rashford turned to her, his smile growing wider, though it did not reach his eyes. “Ah, the Duchess of Haremore, isn’t it? Such a lovely thing you are, Your Grace. A shame you have found yourself married to?—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Cedric hissed, his voice like ice.
Rashford raised his hands mockingly. “I meant no offense. As for Lady Lilianna, I did send her a note. I intend to ask for her hand in marriage. That is no crime, is it?”
