Page 78 of His Forsaken Duchess
Her fingers curled into the sheets, restless, as her mind drifted to Cedric, the man who could command silence with nothing but a look, who could send gossipmongers fleeing with a single word. And yet, when he had appeared in the park today, it hadn’t been his authority that had lingered in her thoughts. It had been his protectiveness. Of her. Of her sisters.
That unsettled her more than the rest combined.
With a frustrated sigh, Audrey threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Her bare feet hit the cool floor, and she reached for her robe, slipping it over her nightdress and tying the sash tightly. A walk, she decided. Perhaps a turn about the halls would settle her mind.
The house was still and dark as she descended the stairs, her steps light against the carpet. The faint glow of candlelight spilled into the hallway, its source unmistakable—the library. She paused, furrowing her brow.
Surely everyone else is asleep?
She moved toward the doorway and peeked inside.
Cedric sat alone in the chair by the hearth, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his shoulders slouched in a way she had never seen before. The flames cast a golden light on his sharp features, highlighting the tension in his brow and the slight downward curve of his mouth. He held a glass in his hand, though its contents were clear—water, she realized, not brandy or port.
“Why are you awake?” she asked softly, stepping into the room.
Cedric glanced up, clearly not startled. It was as though he had known she would appear. He shook his head faintly and turned his gaze back to the fire. “Sleep and I are not acquainted tonight.”
Audrey hesitated, watching him for a moment before crossing to the chair opposite his. She perched on the edge of the seat, her hands clasped in her lap. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, she spotted it—an envelope lying open on the small table beside him.
Her eyebrow rose. “Is that my letter?”
Cedric turned his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the paper and back to her. “It is.”
She smiled despite herself. “Are you just reading it now?”
His lips quirked up, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I read it for the first time an hour ago,” he admitted. “And then I read it twice more.”
Audrey blinked, surprised. “Three times? I didn’t realize my writing was so riveting.”
“You write as you speak—rather insistently,” Cedric replied, a hint of dry humor in his tone.
Audrey laughed softly, though her gaze lingered on him. “Itwasa very long letter,” she admitted. “And I suspect you had several complaints about my mention of the necklace.”
His jaw tightened faintly. “You were bold.”
“Am I not always?” she teased lightly, though her curiosity grew. “Where is it? The necklace, I mean.”
“In my study,” Cedric said, his voice low.
Audrey blinked. “In London? You brought it with you?”
He looked at her then, something unreadable in his dark eyes. “I am still seeking answers,” he said quietly. “And perhaps London holds them.”
Audrey’s heart twisted at his words. For all his gruffness, all his walls, Cedric was a man searching for peace—a man still haunted by the loss of his sister.
Audrey’s fingers tightened on the arm of her chair as she gathered her courage, the moment too fragile for hesitation.
“Cedric,” she began gently. “I have been meaning to ask you something.”
He glanced at her, his brow furrowed faintly, as though he could sense where this was heading. “Go on.”
She swallowed, her voice steady but soft. “About Cecilia’s diary.”
The room went still. The fire crackled and popped, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. Cedric’s expression remainedimpassive, but his shoulders tensed, his grip on his glass tightening ever so slightly.
“What about it?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Audrey hesitated, searching his face. “You said before that she… she hardly left her room.”
