Page 31 of His Forsaken Duchess
Audrey glanced up, startled. “I do. Don’t you?”
He hesitated, his spoon resting against the edge of the bowl. “It’s not the soup that interests me.”
She furrowed her brow slightly. “What do you mean?”
He set his spoon down with deliberate precision and leaned back slightly, the faintest smile curving his lips. “Every movement of yours is calculated. Poised. Practiced. It’s as if you believe the soup is judging you.”
A laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, light and melodic. “I assure you, Your Grace, I have no such illusions about consommé.”
“No,” he said, tilting his head, “but I think you have the same notion about everyone else. As if the world is constantly watching.”
Her smile faltered, though she quickly masked it with a practiced air of humor. “It is no bother,” she said, taking another elegant sip. “I’m not certain I know how to eat any other way.”
“And you don’t find it exhausting?” he pressed, his gaze unrelenting. “This… unending performance.”
Audrey set her spoon down gently, her back straightening. “It is not a performance,” she said evenly. “It is decorum.”
“Decorum,” he repeated, the word falling from his lips like a curse. “And what purpose does it serve? To please strangers who will gossip about you regardless of your manners?”
“To maintain one’s reputation,” she countered, her voice sharper now. “Surely even you can understand the value of that.”
His expression darkened, and the room seemed to grow colder despite the crackling fire.
“I value honesty more than reputation,” he said. “And I’ve seen the cost of placing too much weight on the opinions of the ton.”
Audrey tilted her head, studying him. “This is about your sister, isn’t it?” she said softly. “Lady Cecilia.”
The shift in his demeanor was immediate. His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled against the edge of the table. “You know nothing about her,” he said, his voice low.
“I know she was treated poorly,” Audrey said carefully, her hands folded in her lap. “The ton can be ruthless, especially to young ladies who fall from grace.”
“You think she simply ‘fell from grace’?” he scoffed, his voice bitter. “You think they merely whispered behind their fans and moved on?”
Audrey hesitated, her fingers tightening around the folds of her dress. “I assumed…” she began, but she faltered under his glare.
“They destroyed her,” he said, each word laced with suppressed fury. “The ton—those so-called paragons of civility and virtue—crushed her under their hypocrisy. And when she could no longer bear it, they turned away as if she had never existed.”
Audrey’s breath hitched, the raw pain in his voice cutting through her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, unsure what else to say.
He exhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on the space between them. “Sorry doesn’t change what they did. And it doesn’t absolve you—or anyone else—from perpetuating their poisonous games.”
The accusation stung, and Audrey lifted her chin defensively. “I am not like them,” she said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “I took no part in their cruelty.”
“No?” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Then why do you care so much about their approval? Why go to such lengths to win their favor?”
“Because I must,” she said, her voice rising despite herself. “Because without their approval, I am nothing. Do you know what it’s like to be judged for every step, every word, every breath you take? To have your worth measured by how well you conform to their rules?”
“I know what it’s like to reject those rules,” he shot back. “And to pay the price for it.”
Audrey stared at him, her chest heaving with the force of her emotions. The room felt too small, the air too thick.
“You think me weak,” she said finally, her voice trembling with anger. “But you don’t understand what it’s like to fight for your place in the world.”
“And you think me cold,” he countered, his gaze unyielding. “Though I am not sure you would think the same if you knew what it’s like to lose everything because of the very people you seek to please.”
Silence fell between them, heavy and charged. Audrey’s hands trembled slightly as she clenched them in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. The Duke’s expression softened slightly, though the storm in his eyes remained.
“I do not wish to fight with you,” she said quietly, breaking the tension.
