Page 86 of His Forsaken Duchess
Audrey looked up, startled. “I beg your pardon?”
He set his fork down and leaned back slightly in his seat, his dark gaze meeting hers. “The museum. And Belleville. It was… well handled.”
Audrey blinked, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Are you complimenting me, Cedric?”
He shrugged faintly, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Do not let it go to your head.”
“I could hardly help it,” she replied, her tone teasing. “Praise from you is rare, indeed.”
Cedric shook his head, though his expression softened as he reached for his glass of water. “And you’ve accepted an invitation for a ball, I assume?”
“I have,” Audrey replied proudly. “The Marchioness of Heathersfield’s. She never spoke poorly about Lilianna, not once. It is the perfect choice.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Very well.”
“And you will encourage Lord Belleville to attend,” she added smoothly.
Cedric arched an eyebrow. “Will I?”
“You will,” Audrey replied, smiling sweetly. “Though I do not expect you to admit it.”
Cedric exhaled through his nose, though his expression betrayed the faintest hint of amusement. “I make no promises.”
Audrey laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “You needn’t. I know you far too well.”
For a moment, the tension between them melted away, replaced by something quieter—something that neither of them was quitewilling to name. Audrey felt her chest tighten as she looked at him, the man who had surprised her more in the past few days than he had in two years.
And for once, she allowed herself to hope that this truce between them would last.
Thirty
“Useless,” Audrey muttered under her breath, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
Sleep, it seemed, was for those unburdened by scandal. And so her feet had brought her here—to her husband’s domain.
The faint light seeping beneath the heavy door of Cedric’s study confirmed her suspicion.
Awake, as I thought.
The Duke of Haremore was not a man who often slept soundly, though she had never been brave enough to ask why.
She softly rapped her knuckles against the door. “Cedric?”
There was a beat of silence before his deep, rumbling voice called, “Enter.”
She pushed the door open and slipped inside, her shawl trailing slightly behind her. The study was far from the cold, imposing room she had expected. The fire in the hearth was roaring, bathing the space in warm amber light. Books were stacked haphazardly on the floor, as though they’d been rifled through in haste. And there, sitting on the hearth-rug like a restless boy instead of a grim duke, was Cedric.
The sight brought her up short. He leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees, a small leather-bound book open in his hands. The crease in his brow and the rigid line of his jaw gave him the air of a man grappling with something heavy. Audrey had seen many expressions on his face—aloofness, irritation, even that maddening smirk—but never this. Never something so raw.
“You’re sitting on the floor,” she observed, unable to help herself. The absurdity of the image pricked her nerves.
Cedric didn’t look up, but a flicker of something—amusement?—crossed his face. “I’m an unusual man, or so I’ve been told.”
Audrey huffed softly, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “And I’m an insomniac. May I join you?”
His gaze rose then, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might refuse. But the look in his dark brown eyes shifted, and he patted the spot beside him. “If you dare.”
Audrey hesitated just long enough to keep her dignity intact before stepping forward and lowering herself gracefully onto therug. The warmth of the fire and his proximity were disarming. She could feel his presence, solid and silent, as though his very existence anchored the room.
