Chapter 12
Twelve
A udrey sighed heavily, her breath clouding the frosted windowpane. The snow outside was relentless, falling in thick sheets that blanketed the world in a stark and unyielding white. She pressed her forehead lightly against the cold pane, drumming her fingers on the sill.
Two days . Two days of confinement, two days of carefully avoiding Cedric except for dinner, and two days of interminable, maddening boredom.
Her hand dropped to her lap as she straightened, her mind racing. She had been actively avoiding him, yet her thoughts insisted on circling back to him. Something had shifted since their conversation in the music room—something intangible but very much present. And while his apology for shouting at her had been graciously received, the memory of his anger lingered, gnawing at the edges of her composure.
“Miss Smith!” she called suddenly, her tone decisive.
Her lady’s maid appeared promptly, her hands folded primly in front of her. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“I wish to rearrange my chamber,” Audrey declared, standing up abruptly. “This room has felt far too dull of late.”
Miss Smith’s eyes widened slightly. “Rearrange, Your Grace?”
“Yes. Rearrange,” Audrey confirmed, moving toward the wardrobe. “It will do wonders for my mood.”
And thus began a whirlwind morning that left the housemaids pale and trembling as they tried to keep up with the Duchess’s relentless instructions. By the time her bedchamber was sufficiently reordered, Miss Smith looked as though she might collapse. Audrey, however, stood surveying the results with her hands on her hips and a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Well,” she murmured, rubbing her hands together. “That was most invigorating. Now, the drawing room.”
Miss Smith’s gasp of horror was muffled as Audrey swept past her, heading purposefully downstairs. She wasted no time in summoning footmen to help her rearrange the drawing room’s furniture. With her typical precision, she directed them to move the sofas closer to the hearth and adjust the chairs for optimal comfort.
It wasn’t long before the housemaids’ increasingly frantic whispers reached Mrs. Potts, who marched into the room with an exasperated expression.
“Your Grace,” she began, planting herself firmly near the hearth. “I have just been informed by the maids that you are working. ”
Audrey laughed, glancing over her shoulder. “Nonsense, Mrs. Potts. I am merely giving instructions.”
Mrs. Potts raised an eyebrow. “And moving furniture is not work?”
“Not when one doesn’t lift anything,” Audrey countered, her lips twitching with amusement.
Mrs. Potts shook her head with a sigh. “What, may I ask, is your intent here, Your Grace?”
“I am rearranging the room for warmth,” Audrey said breezily, gesturing toward the hearth. “The furniture was far too distant. I mean to make it more agreeable.”
The housekeeper’s expression softened into one of approval. “A fine idea, Your Grace. Truly inspired.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Potts,” Audrey replied. “Now, if you could assist me further, I was thinking some of the unhung paintings from the gallery would brighten the space.”
Mrs. Potts nodded briskly. “An excellent idea. I’ll see to it.”
As footmen were dispatched to retrieve the paintings, Audrey’s attention shifted to a chaise tucked against the wall.
“That, too, must be moved,” she declared. “It would look far better nearer the center of the room.”
As the footmen complied, a small chest hidden behind the chaise came into view.
Audrey furrowed her brow. “What is this?” she asked, moving toward it.
Mrs. Potts peered at it, her hands resting on her hips. “That chest has been there for years, Your Grace. I’d quite forgotten about it.”
Audrey knelt gracefully, lifting the lid to reveal a collection of old books, a tarnished music box, and what appeared to be a pair of peculiar shoes with blades affixed to their soles.
“What on earth?” she murmured, lifting one of the strange shoes for inspection.
Mrs. Potts leaned closer. “Good heavens. I’d quite forgotten about those as well.”
Audrey turned the shoe over in her hand, furrowing her brow. “What sort of shoes are these?” she asked. She ran her fingers along the blade, only to hiss sharply as a sting shot through her palm.
Blood welled up from the shallow cut, and she gasped, dropping the shoe back in the chest.
Mrs. Potts’s reaction was immediate and theatrical. “Your Grace!” she cried, rushing to her side. “Oh, dear me! Mr. Potts! Someone fetch the physician! Quickly!”
The maids’ panicked cries echoed through the hall, and before Audrey could protest, Cedric appeared in the doorway, his presence commanding and stern.
“What is going on here?” he demanded, his gaze sweeping across the room before landing on Audrey’s injured hand. He strode forward without waiting for an answer. “Mrs. Potts, there’s no need for a physician. Fetch linen and spirits immediately.”
“But, Your Grace?—”
“Now,” he barked, crouching before Audrey and taking her hand in his. “What happened?”
Audrey flushed under his piercing gaze, her embarrassment mingling with the strange warmth of his touch.
“It is nothing,” she said, attempting to withdraw her hand. “I merely… Well, I was examining the contents of that chest and?—”
“And you cut yourself with something you had no business touching,” he interrupted, his voice clipped with exasperation. “Rearranging the drawing room, were you?”
“I was bored,” she admitted, her cheeks coloring further. “And it was far too cold to remain idle.”
Mrs. Potts returned with the requested items, and Cedric took a strip of linen, soaking it in the spirits before carefully dabbing at her wound. Audrey winced at the sting, and he immediately softened.
“It’s just to clean the cut,” he said quietly. “I promise it will be quick.”
Audrey nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers brushed her skin. The maids and footmen had disappeared, leaving her acutely aware of the silence in the room—and the closeness of her husband.
Cedric worked with quiet efficiency, wrapping her hand securely. When he was finished, he surprised her by lifting her bandaged palm to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it.
Audrey gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”
He glanced up, his expression bemused. “I thought I was being gallant. Is that not what you were expecting?”
“Gallant?” she echoed, finding her voice. “You’re an absentee husband, Cedric.”
His eyebrows rose in mock offense. “And whose idea was that, Audrey?”
Her retort died on the tip of her tongue, a sharp pang piercing her chest. Their arrangement had always suited her, or so she thought. But now, sitting close to him on the floor, she felt a strange ache that she couldn’t quite name.
This is foolishness . Dreamy notions have no place here.
Her gaze fell to the peculiar shoes, desperate for a distraction.
“What are those?” she asked, gesturing to the chest. “And why on earth do they have blades?”
Cedric followed her gaze, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Those are skates.”
“Skates?” she repeated, skeptical. “What does one do with them?”
“They’re for ice skating,” he explained. “You strap them on and glide across frozen lakes or ponds.”
Audrey blinked at him, incredulous. “Surely you jest.”
“I assure you, I do not,” he said with a grin. “And if you don’t believe me, I will gladly prove it. In fact, I could even teach you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You would teach me? I find that hard to believe.”
“And why is that?” Cedric asked, his tone slightly challenging. “Do you doubt my abilities as a tutor or your own as a student?”
“Both,” she said archly, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Then I shall simply have to surprise you, Duchess. Consider it a promise.”
Cedric rose to his feet and extended a hand toward her. Audrey hesitated only briefly before placing her uninjured hand in his.
His grip was warm and firm, and she found herself acutely aware of the distinction between his steady composure and her racing pulse. With a gentle tug, he pulled her up, and she smoothed her skirts, feeling oddly unbalanced.
He glanced around the drawing room, his sharp gaze assessing the newly arranged furniture.
“I do see your point,” he said at last, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Moving the furniture closer to the fireplace does seem practical. Warmer, even.”
“ Of course it’s practical,” Audrey replied with mock indignation, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “What would an iceman like you know about warmth?”
His eyebrow rose, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he would counter her jibe, but instead, he looked down at her bandaged hand, his tone softening. “You must be more careful, Audrey. Delicate princesses require delicate care.”
Her lips parted, a surprised laugh bubbling forth. “I am not a princess, Cedric, and I am only tolerating you because you are a duke.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely. “A practical decision, indeed. After all, you married me because I am a duke.”
She tilted her head, her lips quirking up. “You are entirely correct.”
They both laughed, and Audrey was surprised by how natural their banter, the ease that had somehow crept into the space between them, felt.
But then their laughter faded, and their eyes met. The warmth in his expression shifted into something deeper, something that sent a shiver down her spine. His gaze held hers, searching, unguarded. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Her heart rate quickened as he leaned forward, and she tilted her head up, the air between them suddenly charged. She caught the faintest scent of cedar and the cold, crisp air he seemed to always carry with him.
Audrey closed her eyes.