Page 19 of His Forsaken Duchess
The Duke of Haremore.
Audrey sighed, folding the old letter carefully before placing it back in the small box on her escritoire. Even after all these years, the memory of her seventeen-year-old self receiving the note still left her feeling hollow. Her parents had insisted that she and the Duke get to know each other before the wedding, but the formal tone of his letter had made it clear that he viewed their impending union as nothing more than a contractual obligation.
She rested her chin in her hand, her thoughts drifting back further to the first time they met. She had been eager to impress but barely able to contain her exuberance.
Her heart thudded against her ribs as her nursemaid tied the pale green cummerbund around her white frock. She fidgeted, her hands gripping the sides of the vanity chair. “Is he here yet?” she asked breathlessly.
Before her nursemaid could answer, Lilianna burst into the nursery, her face alight with excitement. “He’s here! The Duke is here!”
Audrey jumped up, nearly toppling the chair, earning a sharp look from her nursemaid.
“You will sit still, My Lady, or this will never be finished,” the woman scolded, tugging the cummerbund tight.
Audrey gritted her teeth but remained still, her legs twitching with the need to move. As soon as the nursemaid released her, she dashed to the door, nearly colliding with Lilianna in the doorway.
“Lady Audrey!” her stepmother’s voice rang out, firm yet calm.
Audrey skidded to a halt, straightening her posture as Grace approached her in the hallway.
“Sorry, Mama,” she murmured, clasping her hands in front of her.
Grace tilted her head, her eyes softening. “You must remember, my dear, you are going to meet the Duke of Haremore. He is your betrothed, a guest in this house, and you must conduct yourself with the utmost decorum.”
“Yes, Mama.” Audrey nodded solemnly, though her heart continued to flutter excitedly.
“Come along,” Grace said, offering her hand. “The Duke is waiting for you in the drawing room. Present yourself as a lady, not a rambunctious child.”
Audrey’s cheeks flushed, but she followed her stepmother down the grand staircase. As they approached the drawing room, she could hear the low murmur of her father’s voice and the crackling of the fire. When they entered, her gaze was immediately drawn to the tall man standing with his back to them, his hands clasped behind him as he faced the flames.
“Your Grace,” her stepmother said with a slow curtsy. “May I present my stepdaughter, Lady Audrey Winslow.”
The Duke turned, and Audrey’s breath caught. He was tall and striking, his dark hair and sharp features giving him a commanding presence. She had never seen anyone quite like him.
Gathering her wits, she dropped into a curtsy, lowering her gaze as her nursemaid had taught her.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice a little too loud in the quiet room.
“Lady Audrey,” he replied coolly, inclining his head. He made no move to take her hand, let alone kiss it, and she straightened with a slight frown.
“Are you not going to take my hand?” she asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
Grace’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
The Duke’s lips twitched faintly, though not in amusement. “It is not necessary.”
Audrey furrowed her brow, but then she pressed on. “Is it because I have yet to come out and you don’t consider me a proper lady?”
The faintest flicker of something passed over his face—perhaps surprise or annoyance.
“It is because I was invited to meet you,” he said evenly. “And I am honoring that invitation.”
Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, wrinkling her nose in displeasure.
You’re here to inspect me, and to condescend.
“Lady Audrey!” Grace’s voice held a warning note, but Audrey gave her a contrite smile.
“I am sorry, Mama,” she said sweetly before turning back to the Duke. “Would you care to sit?”
