Page 61 of His Forsaken Duchess
This cannot last. And yet… how I wish it could.
Twenty
Cedric snapped the book shut, the leather cover slapping against the worn pages. He exhaled through his nose and leaned back in the cushioned seat of his carriage, his gaze drifting toward the rain-smeared window. Outside, the barren countryside stretched into the horizon, a bleak monotony broken only by the occasional copse of trees or stone wall.
Why did I bring the book at all?
It was a distraction, or at least it had been intended as one, but the words on the page had blurred into nonsense. No amount of reading, no amount of focus, could drive her out of his thoughts.
Audrey.
The very name stirred an ache he couldn’t explain, nor wanted to. She had plagued him from the moment they left Haremore Castle, her presence lingering even when she was not in sight. It was her scent, he supposed—that maddeningly floral perfumethat clung to the air long after she had passed by, teasing his senses like a whispered secret. Even last night at the inn, with their rooms deliberately located at opposite ends of the hall, he could swear he had caught it, faint but obvious.
Cedric clenched his jaw, setting his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his dark hair. Traveling separately had been the only logical choice. In her carriage, she could gossip with her maid and make plans for their arrival in London. In his, he could have peace—if only she weren’t so determined to haunt him.
The carriage jolted abruptly, the sound of snapping wood and shouted curses filling the air. Cedric barely had time to brace himself as the vehicle lurched violently to one side. His shoulder slammed into the wall, and the carriage groaned under its weight before stopping, half-tipped, into the muddy road.
A string of expletives left his lips as he shoved the door open and climbed out into the chaos. The rain had eased to a drizzle, though the ground beneath his boots was slick and treacherous. One of the front wheels was shattered, splintered wood scattered like debris from a battlefield.
“Your Grace!” The coachman rushed to his side, panting. “The wheel’s gone clean through. I’ll see about repairs, but?—”
“There’s no time for that,” Cedric snapped, surveying the damage. His gaze shifted to the carriage ahead, its polished black frame unmarred by misfortune—Audrey’s carriage. He grimaced. “We cannot delay the journey.”
“No, Your Grace,” the coachman agreed, his expression wary. “But that leaves us short a carriage.”
Cedric’s stomach twisted. He knew the only practical solution, yet every part of him resisted it. Sharing a carriage with Audrey would be insufferable. Yet, to arrive separately after such a delay would raise questions, perhaps even stir suspicion—and suspicion was precisely what they could not afford.
The door of Audrey’s carriage opened just as he strode toward it, and she stepped down with the aid of her maid. She furrowed her brow as she took in the scene, the fractured wheel and scattered debris.
“What’s happened?”
Cedric straightened, biting back his irritation. “The wheel broke,” he said curtly. “Your carriage will have to suffice for both of us.”
Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flicking between him and the ruined vehicle. Then, as if collecting herself, she gestured toward the door. “I suppose there’s no alternative. Do come in.”
The warmth of the carriage enveloped him as he settled into the seat opposite her, his long legs brushing the hem of her dress in the confined space. The scent of roses and her maddening perfume was stronger here, stirring something uncomfortably close to longing.
The silence between them was thick, her attention fixed on the rain-dappled window as if the passing countryside held some great fascination. Cedric tried to do the same, yet every movement she made seemed amplified in the quiet—the soft rustling of her skirts, the tapping of her gloved fingers against her knee. He clenched his fists, willing himself to focus on anything else.
After what felt like an eternity, Audrey turned to face him. “Cedric, we haven’t discussed the specifics of our… arrangement.”
He frowned, his gaze sharpening. “What specifics?”
“For our ruse to succeed,” she began carefully, “we must look like a happily married couple. Very much in love.”
Cedric stiffened, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Love?” he echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Is that strictly necessary?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “It is the fastest way to convince the ton that Lilianna is supported and cared for. If they believe that you love me, they will believe that she is deserving of the same kindness.”
Cedric leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “How very convenient. And what would you have me do, Audrey? Declare my undying devotion in the middle of a ball?”
She tilted her head, her expression calm but resolute. “If the situation calls for it, yes.”
“Good Lord.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “I never imagined you to be the dreamy sort.”
Her lips twitched in response, though her eyes remained steady on his. “I am not dreamy, Cedric. I am practical.”
“Practical?” he repeated, a sharp laugh escaping his lips. “There is nothing practical about love.”
