Page 56 of His Forsaken Duchess
Cedric sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered, reaching for the glass before him.
As the footman cleared away their bowls and brought out the second course—a perfectly roasted partridge accompanied by a delicate cranberry glaze and buttered vegetables—Audrey continued her list of demands.
“We should also host an event,” she said, her knife and fork cutting neatly into the meat.
Cedric paused mid-bite, furrowing his brow. “Host an event? Audrey, our townhouse is not large enough to accommodate half of London.”
She looked up at him, her gaze calm but assessing. “You are predictable, Cedric. I knew you’d object.”
“That is not the point,” he scoffed, only to pause as her words sank in. “Predictable, am I?”
“Yes,” she replied, her lips twitching slightly. “You like to grumble and resist before ultimately agreeing to whatever I suggest.”
Cedric stared at her for a moment before setting his fork down with a resigned sigh. “If you wish to host all of London in our townhouse, you may do so,” he said. “Though I doubt the ballroom can fit more than a hundred guests.”
Audrey ignored his comment, her attention back on her plate.
Cedric watched her, his irritation mingling with something far softer. He realized he was arguing with her not out of any real objection, but because he missed the warmth she had shown him in fleeting moments—the way her smile had once lit up a room, or the way she had held his hand so firmly when he had shared his darkest secrets.
But now she was cold and distant, and he knew he had only himself to blame. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Distance. Detachment. A marriage in name only.
And yet, as he watched her, the candlelight catching the gold in her hair, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was slowly losing something he hadn’t even realized he wanted.
Audrey set her fork down and met his gaze, her expression steady. “Are we in agreement, then?”
“We are,” Cedric said softly, though his voice carried a note of reluctance. He picked up his glass, his fingers tightening around the stem as he fought the urge to say more.
“Good,” she replied, her tone brisk. “Then we shall proceed accordingly.”
Cedric nodded, though his chest felt uncomfortably tight.
As the footman cleared away their plates, Cedric glanced at her again, his jaw clenching at the wall that now seemed to stand between them. He told himself it was for the best—that keeping his distance would protect them both.
But even as he tried to believe it, he couldn’t help but wish for the warmth of her smile once more.
As the twelfth chime of the clock echoed through the castle, Audrey slipped out of her bedchamber. She paused in the shadows of the hallway, her breath evening out as she glanced toward the stairs. The dim light from a single wall sconce illuminated the grand staircase, but the foyer below remained cloaked in darkness.
She peered over the first landing, her heart rate quickening. The house was silent, its staff long since retired for the night. She hesitated for a moment. He had explicitly told her to avoid the west wing.
But this wasn’t about defiance, she told herself firmly. This was about understanding. How could she possibly navigate the intricacies of her husband’s tormented past if she was kept in the dark? No, this was necessary.
Still, as she stepped cautiously down the hall toward the forbidden wing, a shiver ran down her spine. The west wing had an air of abandonment, the silence here heavier, as though the very walls carried the memories. The cold draft that greeted her seemed to whisper warnings, but Audrey pressed forward.
She trembled slightly as she stopped before Cecilia’s room and turned the brass doorknob. The door creaked open, revealing a space frozen in time. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the chill. She stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her. The room was eerily still, and the dim moonlight that filtered through the window cast long shadows over the furniture.
Audrey reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small candle and a single match. With a quick strike, the flame sprang to life, illuminating the room with its gentle glow. She moved toward the writing desk near the window, her bare feet sinking into the faded rug. The diary lay open atop the desk, its pages beckoning her.
She hesitated, the gravity of the moment settling over her. Then, steeling herself, she sank into the chair and opened the diary fully, smoothing the fragile pages with care. Her eyes fell on an entry written in an elegant but hurried hand.
May 14th, 1802
I should have never let him charm me. I thought myself clever, immune to his honeyed words and practiced smiles. And yet Iwas wrong. I see it now, as clearly as I see my reflection in the looking glass—I am ruined. What am I to do now?
Audrey winced, her heart clenching at Cecilia’s despair. She traced the edge of the page with her fingertip, imagining the young woman who had written those words. The pain felt tangible, as if it had seeped into the very ink.
How could I have been so foolish? He has disappeared, and with him, any hope of fixing my reputation. My friends—the ones I once trusted—whisper behind my back. They shun me as though I am diseased. And worst of all, my family… my family looks at me as though I have brought shame upon us all. I cannot bear it. I cannot.
Audrey’s chest tightened. She thought of Lilianna, her sister’s pain echoing in Cecilia’s words.
