Chapter 4
Four
I shouldn’t be here!
Audrey tugged her shawl closer, her breath puffing visibly in the frigid air as she walked through the castle’s seemingly endless hallways. The cold crept through the walls like an uninvited guest, mocking her with every step.
She had chosen her warmest dress for the journey, but its high neckline and long sleeves had done little to shield her from the cold. Now, dressed for dinner, the thin silk dress clung to her skin as if conspiring with the cold to torment her further. Her gloved hands trembled slightly, though she told herself it was only the draft.
The dining hall loomed ahead, its double doors ajar. The flickering candlelight spilled into the dim hallway, promising some measure of warmth. As she entered, her gaze fell on the table—set for two. She paused. The arrangement felt unexpectedly intimate, though she reminded herself it was likely Potts’s doing, not her husband’s.
She settled into a chair near the fireplace, the heat licking at her back as if in sympathy. Her fingers traced the edge of the linen napkin absently.
Surely he wouldn’t join me.
She cast a glance at the empty chair across from her. Cedric Hall had made his disdain for her presence abundantly clear since her arrival.
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her thoughts. She glanced up, her breath catching when the Duke entered. He moved with a purposeful stride, his expression calm and controlled. His evening coat was impeccably tailored, its dark fabric complementing the sharp angles of his features.
He paused in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the room before landing on her.
“Duke,” she greeted, inclining her head.
“Duchess,” he returned, his tone measured as he took the seat opposite her.
He gestured for the servants, who quickly entered, bearing the first course.
Audrey suppressed a shiver as she reached for her soup spoon. The bowl of steaming roasted parsnip and leek soup before her was a welcome distraction from the Duke’s imposing presence. She dipped her spoon delicately into the soup, its warmth spread through her as she savored it.
“You’ve been here since our wedding,” she remarked, glancing up at him. “In Cumberland, I mean.”
His spoon paused mid-air, his gaze rising to meet hers. “I have.”
Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Nowhere else? I find that difficult to believe, given your reputation for adventure.”
“And what reputation would that be?” he asked, his tone dry.
She set her spoon down, leaning slightly toward him. “Oh, only the most outlandish tales. That you’ve wrestled with a mountain lion, for instance.”
He resumed eating, entirely unbothered by her claim. “True.”
Audrey blinked. “You cannot be serious.”
His lips twitched, though his expression was far from warm. “And what else have you heard?”
“That you spent a season aboard a pirate ship,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. “Surely that is not true.”
His spoon clinked softly against the bowl as he set it down. “Most of it.”
“Most?” she repeated, incredulous. “You mean to tell me that you have, in fact, been a pirate?”
“Briefly,” he replied, the faintest flicker of amusement in his otherwise stoic expression.
Audrey huffed, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t believe you.”
“Does that trouble you, princess?” he asked smoothly, reaching for his wineglass.
Her cheeks reddened under his steady gaze, though she refused to look away. “Not in the least.”
He leaned back slightly as if considering his next words.
“It began as an accident,” he said. “I was aboard a ship bound for Lisbon when we were taken by a pirate brig. Their captain gave me two options: join them or be left to the whims of the sea.”
Audrey raised an eyebrow, her curiosity overcoming her skepticism. “And you chose to join them?”
“What other option was there?” he replied with a shrug. “Telling them I was a duke would have complicated matters for me.”
She frowned, leaning forward. “And what did you do aboard this ship? Surely, they did not give you a mop and bucket.”
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “No, they did not. They were suspicious of me at first, as one might expect. But I soon proved myself useful.”
“Useful?” she echoed, her tone incredulous. “How does a duke prove himself useful to pirates?”
“I have an eye for strategy,” he said simply. “A skill they valued when plotting their next raid. It is remarkable how easily one can adapt to survive.”
Audrey’s lips twitched. “And the mountain lion? Shall I expect an equally improbable tale?”
The amusement in his expression grew. “That particular incident occurred in the Apennines, near Genoa. I was hunting with a group of acquaintances when we inadvertently wandered into the animal’s territory.”
“The Apennines,” she repeated, her skepticism softening into intrigue. “And you confronted it directly?”
“There was no opportunity for strategy,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I was separated from the others and stumbled upon the creature while descending a narrow trail. I was left with little choice but to defend myself.”
Audrey leaned forward slightly, captivated despite herself. “With what?”
He raised his gaze to hers, his expression calm. “A hunting knife. Nothing else was within reach.”
Audrey’s eyebrows shot up. “You faced a mountain lion with only a knife?”
“There was little elegance in the encounter,” he admitted. “It was a fight for survival, and I emerged the victor—but not without scars.”
Her gaze lingered on him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet you speak of it so plainly, as though it were merely an inconvenience.”
His lips twitched faintly. “I find no use in dramatizing such events. The outcome is what matters.”
Audrey tilted her head, studying him. “You’ve led an extraordinary life, Duke. It seems odd that you prefer solitude after such experiences.”
“I have seen enough of the world’s unpredictability to appreciate the solace of consistency,” he replied, his tone unreadable.
The servants returned to clear away the soup bowls, replacing them with the main course—lobster with a creamy mushroom sauce. The rich aroma filled the air, and Audrey busied herself with arranging her silverware, hoping to regain her composure. She couldn’t deny that the Duke’s presence unsettled her—not in the way of fear, but something far more disconcerting.
“And you?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.
She looked up sharply. “Me?”
“London or Kent?” he clarified, his tone almost casual. “Where do you prefer to spend your time?”
Audrey tilted her head, studying him. “Why do you ask?”
“Because every time you move between them, I see the change in the expense reports,” he said dryly, cutting into his lobster with slow precision. “I find it fascinating.”
She blinked, taken aback. “You track my expenses?”
“I track the household accounts,” he corrected, his expression calm. “Your movements are merely… notable.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, though she couldn’t decide if it was embarrassment or irritation. “A duchess must live as a duchess must.”
“Indeed,” he drawled, his lips quirking into something faintly resembling a smile. “Princess.”
Her jaw tightened, though she forced a polite smile. “Must you call me that?”
“It suits you,” he replied, before lifting his glass to his lips.
She took a steadying breath, reminding herself to remain composed. Losing her temper with him would achieve nothing.
“I see your reputation for gruffness is well-earned,” she said lightly, her fork cutting into the delicate lobster.
“And yours for extravagance,” he countered smoothly, though there was no malice in his tone.
“You promised me luxury before we married.”
“And you have it. More than you know what to do with.” His lips twitched, and she clenched her teeth, wishing for nothing more than to wipe the smugness off his face.
“So, why are you complaining about my extravagance, as you so elegantly put it?”
“I am not complaining, merely curious about your… habits.”
Audrey bit back a retort, choosing instead to focus on her plate. The wine emboldened her, though she knew better than to let it loosen her tongue too much.
The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. If anything, it felt charged, as though words left unsaid hovered just out of reach.
As dessert arrived—a delicate pudding draped with caramel—she found herself breaking the silence.
“I didn’t know,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on the flickering candles. “About the necklace. I didn’t know it was hers.”
The room seemed to grow colder at her words. The Duke’s hand stilled, his expression hardening as he set his spoon down with deliberate care.
“I see,” he said, his voice clipped.
“I am sorry,” she added, her voice trembling slightly. She hated how small it sounded, but she felt compelled to say the words.
His gaze was distant, his jaw tight. “Apology accepted.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Audrey folded her hands in her lap, racking her brain for something to fill the void.
Before she could speak, the Duke’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and firm. “If you are going to remain here, there are rules.”
She looked up at him, startled by the sudden change in his tone. “Rules?”
“Do not disrupt my routine. Do not disturb my peace. Do not ask about my past.” His eyes locked onto hers, colder than the snow outside. “And do not go to the west wing.”
Audrey’s chest tightened, but she kept her expression composed. The man before her was so different from the one in the stories she had heard—so guarded, so resolute in his solitude. She had thought a marriage of convenience would shield her from such complications, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Of course,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her stomach.
The Duke nodded, rising from his seat. “Enjoy your evening, Duchess.”
He walked out of the room without a backward glance, leaving her alone in the glow of the candles. Her fingers brushed the edge of her plate as she stared after him, her resolve hardening.
You will help me, even if I must tear down every wall you’ve built.