Page 8 of His Forsaken Duchess
Cedric nodded absently, his eyes scanning the rolling fields. The quiet, predictable patterns of the estate gave him a sense of order he craved, a peace that was so often elusive elsewhere.
He muttered a low, “Good,” more to himself than to Johnson, his attention drifting to the soft rustling of leaves in the distance.
Only, the rustling grew louder, until he was certain that it was not, in fact, the trees and wind making the sound.
The peace was abruptly shattered by the distant rumble of an approaching carriage. Cedric’s hand tightened on the reins as the vehicle came into view, the Haremore crest unmistakable on its side. The carriage sped past, bound for the castle, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
Cedric closed his eyes for a brief moment, muttering under his breath, “Of all the blasted—” He stopped himself and let out a slow breath, calming his growing frustration. “I hope it’s not who I think it is.”
Without hesitation, he turned his stallion around, nudging the beast into a gallop toward the castle. The pounding of hooves mirrored the quickening of his pulse, dread settling heavily in his chest. He reached the front drive as the carriage came to a halt, the sight of it only confirming his suspicions.
Dismounting, Cedric handed the reins to a waiting stable boy just as Potts, his butler, came rushing down the front steps. The man’s face was flushed, his voice breathless as he approached.
“Your Grace, it is the Duchess. She has arrived without notice.”
Cedric’s jaw tightened. He didn’t need to be told who had just arrived in that carriage. He sighed as he turned to face the vehicle.
The carriage door opened, and a gloved hand emerged, dainty and poised. Potts turned to him, a pointed look in his eyes that Cedric could not interpret. He could only watch the hand linger in the air.
After a brief pause, Potts hurried forward, his movements frantic, and helped her down. Cedric blinked.
Good Lord! I was supposed to do that! Where are my manners?
When she stepped onto the drive, his breath hitched, though he cursed himself inwardly for the reaction. She looked radiant, her dark blue cloak edged with fur framing her face, the hood set just so to highlight her chestnut-brown hair. Her bright blue eyes widened as they met his, surprise flickering across her features.
“I did not expect someone else to assist me out of the carriage.” One of her eyebrows was arched, and she reminded Cedric of the typical, pompous lady one would find promenading around London.
Though he felt a tug in his chest as he acknowledged her beauty.
More beautiful than on our wedding day.
The thought unsettled him because their marriage was meant to only be a formality, where he should not view her as his wife but as a duchess. He pushed it aside, clearing his throat.
“What is wrong?” he asked abruptly. “Why are you here?”
The directness caught her off guard, and she furrowed her brow slightly as she tilted her head.
Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin, composing herself with practiced grace. “Duke,” she said, her tone measured, “I trust you are well.”
He narrowed his eyes at the pleasantries, his irritation rising. “Is that why you’ve come? To inquire after my health?”
He cast a pointed look at the footmen unloading the mountain of luggage she’d brought. His gaze lingered on her cloak—clearly the latest fashion, if the recent bills he remembered signing were any indication. Though it would not do her any favors in this weather.
“Actually, I wished to speak with you,” she said. “There are matters we need to discuss.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And a letter would not suffice?”
“This is a delicate issue,” she replied calmly. “One that requires a proper conversation. It was necessary,” she added.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the bustling scene, “was not part of our arrangement.”
The Duchess frowned, her eyes darting briefly to the gathered servants. “I think,” she said pointedly, “this is hardly the place to discuss such matters. Unless you prefer to handle private affairs in front of your servants.” She lowered her voice so only he could hear her next words. “After all, it would not surprise me.”
Does she think me mannerless?
It seemed that she did.
Cedric felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward into a sardonic smile. Bowing slightly, he gestured toward the house with exaggerated politeness. “By all means, Duchess,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do grace us with your presence inside the castle.”
