Page 62 of His Forsaken Duchess
Audrey’s gaze softened, though there was a spark of defiance in her tone as she replied, “There is nothing wrong with love either.”
He opened his mouth to argue but then hesitated, unsettled by the conviction in her voice.
What does she know about love? What does anyone?
She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting neatly on her lap. “I know you find all of this intolerable, Cedric, but think of the outcome. The sooner we succeed, the sooner you will be free of me. Isn’t that what you want?”
Cedric’s jaw tightened, his frustration mounting as her words hit the mark. “Until the next issue presents itself, I presume?”
Audrey’s eyes flashed, though she managed a cool smile. “If that is your concern, you may rest assured. I have no intention of making this a habit.” She pressed her lips together into a thin line and momentarily glanced out the window. “I don’t expect you to understand, but this isn’t just about me or my family. It’s about showing the ton that the people they tear down are not without allies. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate that.”
His chest tightened, anger and something far more difficult to place clawing at him. She had a way of dismantling his defenses, brick by brick, until he could hardly think straight. And he hated it—hated that she could elicit such feelings within him with nothing more than her calm persistence.
When the carriage finally stopped to change horses, Cedric seized the moment to escape. The door opened, and he was out. The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool and damp.
Without a word, he climbed up beside the coachman, ignoring the startled glance the man cast in his direction.
“Drive on,” he ordered.
As the carriage began to move again, Cedric let the cold wind lash against his face, hoping it would clear his thoughts. Audrey’s words echoed in his mind, stirring a frustration that refused to be silenced.
Love? Allies? She speaks as though either could undo what’s already been done.
Yet, as he glanced back at the carriage, the faint outline of her figure visible through the window, he felt the stirrings of something he could neither name nor ignore. Something that left him feeling far too exposed.
Cedric stepped into the grand entryway of Haremore House, and a chill seeped into his chest, unwelcome and persistent, as though the house itself conspired to remind him of everything he had spent a decade trying to forget. His jaw tightened.
I should have rented other lodgings.
He adjusted the cuffs of his coat with unnecessary precision.
To his left, Audrey stepped lightly through the doorway, her skirts swishing softly against the polished floor. She paused, tilting her head up as she studied him. Her gaze was not intrusive, but curious—curious in a way that set him on edge.
“What is it?” he asked gruffly, refusing to meet her eyes.
She frowned slightly, the faintest crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Nothing, only… you look as though you stepped into a battlefield.”
His mouth twitched in irritation.
If only it were as simple as a battlefield.
“I will be in my study,” he replied curtly, sidestepping her as he began walking toward the staircase.
“Will you join me for dinner?” she called after him, her voice calm but persistent.
Cedric paused, his hand gripping the banister. He turned his head just enough to glance back at her, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps,” he replied, but his tone did little to disguise his lack of enthusiasm.
Her lips parted as though she meant to press the issue, but she must have thought better of it. With a slight nod, she turned and disappeared down the hallway.
The sound of her footsteps fading into the distance offered only a brief respite.
Cedric walked with deliberate slowness. By the time he reached his study, his chest was tight, his breaths shallow. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his head falling back with a quiet thud against the wood.
Why did I come here?
It was a question he had no satisfactory answer to. Logic had dictated that they stay in London, yet Haremore House, with all its oppressive elegance, was the last place he wanted to be.
The memories lurked here, waiting for him in the shadows, ready to strike when his defenses were down. He had spent countless nights in this very house, pacing its endless halls while Cecilia’s sobs echoed in his ears, haunting him long after her voice had faded forever. The scent of her perfume, the peals of her laughter—all of it was etched into the very pillars of this place. No amount of cleaning, redecorating, or avoiding would erase it.
