Page 27 of His Forsaken Duchess
The Duke raised an eyebrow, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “Romance and happiness are indulgences, not realities. You would do well to advise your sister to stop dreaming of such things.”
Audrey’s hands tightened around the edges of her book. “I agree, romance is a dangerous illusion. But that does not mean she should marry just anyone.”
“And what makes you think Rashford is right for her?” His voice was calm, yet the challenge in it was obvious.
Audrey hesitated before answering. “I don’t know if he is. That isn’t the battle I’m fighting. My quarrel is with the ton and my father, who might marry her off to some old duke in the farthest, loneliest corner of England.”
His dark laugh came again, quieter this time but no less biting. “Have a little more faith in your father, Duchess. He secured an excellent match for you, after all.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she sat up straighter. “He secured me a decent match,” she corrected.
The Duke tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Decent?” he repeated. “What are the flaws, then, that render me ‘decent’?”
Audrey’s lips parted, but her voice was measured when she replied. “A duchess must never tell a duke his flaws.”
He scoffed, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A walking contradiction, aren’t you? You’ve just made me aware that I have flaws, yet now you claim you cannot tell me what they are.”
Her smile softened as she replied, “Everyone has flaws.”
He raised an eyebrow at her evasive answer. “Then tell me, Duchess. Will you continue to speak in riddles, or will you tell me plainly what is it you want?”
Audrey met his gaze directly, her voice steady. “Are you going to help me? I need to know, and you were not entirely clear.”
The room fell silent, except for the soft crackling of the fire. The Duke studied her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, rising to his feet, he glanced down at her.
“I will let you know tomorrow,” he said, his voice calm but firm.
Audrey opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, he turned and strode toward the door.
Eight
Cedric moved silently through the snow-covered forest, his boots crunching softly against the partially frozen ground. The bow slung over his shoulder and the quiver at his side provided the only company he needed.
Here, in the quiet expanse of trees and unbroken snow, the world seemed to align. The cold air burned in his lungs, the distant calls of birds punctuating the silence. The faint sunlight filtered through the bare branches, melting the edges of the snow but leaving the paths still treacherous for travel.
He let out a slow breath, pulling the bow off his shoulder and running his gloved fingers along its polished wood. This was exactly what he needed. Solitude. The castle and all its distractions were far behind him—her voice, her laughter, the faint floral scent that lingered in every hallway.
Cedric scowled at the thought. He was here to escape her, not to dwell on the conversation from the previous night.
He paused, nocking an arrow, his eyes scanning the landscape for movement. The memory of her teasing smile intruded unbidden, making him stiffen. Her wit had been sharper than he’d expected, her intelligence surprising. And the way she had quoted that line fromThe Philosophy of Nations…
Blast it.
Cedric shook his head, cursing himself under his breath. He was letting her get under his skin and disrupt his peace without even being present.
Just as he exhaled to refocus, a voice rang out, clear and melodic despite its frustration. “Duke, wait! I cannot run in these skirts!”
Cedric froze, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “Heavens preserve me.”
Lowering the bow, he turned, his prayer for patience already proving futile.
Through the trees, he spotted her—a flash of vivid red against the white and brown of the forest.
Audrey stumbled through the snow, lifting her skirts with one hand and clutching the flimsy gray cloak around her shoulders with the other. The shoes she was wearing were impractical, sinking with every step, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold and exertion.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” Cedric called, striding toward her.
She stopped and straightened, catching her breath. “I was admiring the orangery,” she said lightly, brushing snow from her skirts, “when I saw you heading toward the woods. I couldn’t resist. I’ve heard so much about your adventures.”
