Page 79 of His Forsaken Duchess
Cedric’s gaze turned toward the fire again, his jaw hardening as though bracing himself. “She did not,” he confirmed. “Not in the end.”
Audrey’s chest tightened at the heaviness in his voice. She leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped together. “And she… she was with child?”
He was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “Yes, she was.”
Audrey’s heart sank. She thought of Lilianna, of the shame and isolation she had felt. How much worse it must have been for Cecilia.
“She would not leave her bedchamber,” Cedric continued, his gaze fixed on the flames as though they might consume the words he spoke. “She refused to see anyone, to speak to anyone. And when… when she began to show…” He stopped, shaking his head slightly. Then, he rose abruptly, the suddenness of his movement startling Audrey. He crossed the room to the window, his back to her as he stared out into the dark. “Sheended it herself,” he said finally, his voice a rough whisper. “The suffering. All of it.”
Audrey rose as well, her throat tight, her heart aching for him—for the grief he so rarely allowed anyone to see. She stepped toward him slowly, her bare feet silent against the rug. When she reached him, she hesitated only a moment before lifting her hand, her fingers trailing up the broad expanse of his back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Cedric didn’t respond immediately, but she felt his shoulders rise and fall beneath her touch.
Slowly, he turned to face her, his dark eyes shadowed with grief she knew had lingered far too long. For a moment, they simply looked at each other—him, so guarded and yet so close to breaking, and her, uncertain of what to say or do to ease his burden.
Before she knew what was happening, his arms came around her. Audrey gasped softly as he pulled her close, her hands splaying against his chest instinctively. His warmth enveloped her, steady and strong, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to melt against him, to breathe him in.
When he pulled back just enough to look down at her, his gaze dipped to her lips, and her breath caught.
Time seemed to stop.
The fire crackled, its light dancing across his face, and Audrey’s pulse thrummed loudly in her ears. Cedric leaned closer, his hand rising to brush against her cheek, his touch achingly gentle. Her lips parted, her heart hammering as she tilted her head slightly, her body betraying her with its eagerness—its need.
But then Cedric stilled.
Audrey’s eyes fluttered open as she felt his hand fall away, his shoulders tense as he stepped back. He composed himself quickly, the familiar mask of control sliding back into place.
“Good night, Audrey,” he said quietly.
And just like that, he was gone.
Audrey stood there, her arms falling limply to her sides as the door closed behind him. “Good night, Cedric,” she whispered into the empty room.
Twenty-Seven
The knock on Cedric’s study door was brisk and confident, and before he could utter a word of dismissal, the door swung open. Audrey entered, cradling an armful of invitations triumphantly as if they were spoils of war.
“You need to get ready,” she announced, her tone bright and decisive as she sailed across the room. “We are going shopping.”
Cedric looked up from the ledger in front of him, his quill stilling mid-scratch. He furrowed his brow as he took in the excitement on her face and the irrepressible gleam in her eyes.
“Shopping?” he repeated, deadpan. “I fail to see why that requires my participation.”
Audrey stopped at the edge of his desk, undeterred. “You’re not going to let me traipse through London alone, are you? Besides…” She paused dramatically, holding up an invitation between two gloved fingers. “You need new clothes, Your Grace.I cannot have you attending these events looking like a man who has spent two years hiding in a castle.”
“Ihavespent two years hiding in a castle,” he pointed out, leaning back in his chair and pinning her with an unamused look. “I see no reason to change that now.”
Audrey raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You know as well as I do that we need to present a united front. We have appearances to make, and appearances require proper attire. This is work, Cedric.”
His frown deepened. “I do not care what the ton thinks.”
Her grin widened triumphantly, as if she had been waiting for that very protest. “You won’t beplacatingthem—you’ll befoolingthem.”
He opened his mouth to argue but found himself—curse her—at a loss for words. Her energy was maddeningly infectious, her resolve impenetrable.
He exhaled heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have far too many counterarguments for your own good, woman.”
