Chapter 13
Thirteen
W hat in God’s name are you doing?
The voice roared, urgent and insistent, a thunderclap in his otherwise quiet mind. Cedric knew it all too well—it was the same voice that had governed his decisions since the day he’d walked away from Society, from entanglements, from Audrey. He should heed it now.
And yet his hand moved of its own accord, trailing lightly down Audrey’s cheek, the softness of her skin a sharp contrast to the calluses on his fingers. His heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat against his ribs, each thud amplifying the tension that had built between them these past days. He watched her intently, his gaze drawn to her slightly parted lips, their delicate curve beckoning him closer.
He leaned in just a fraction, his breath mingling with hers, the heat of her weakening his resolve. Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief, dizzying moment, the world narrowed to just her—Audrey, radiant and alive, here in his sanctuary.
This is not a part of our arrangement.
The words echoed, sharp and cold as frost. Cedric froze. A wave of clarity crashed over him, dousing the fire in his chest. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to straighten, his hand falling from her cheek. A brief tremor ran through him, the space between them yawning like an uncrossable chasm.
Her eyes opened slowly, wide with confusion. And… was that disappointment he saw in their depths?
His throat tightened as he searched her gaze, desperate for certainty but finding only doubt.
“I—” He cleared his throat, his voice strained. “We will skate once the weather permits it.”
The words were stilted, hollow even to his own ears. He turned swiftly on his heel, leaving the room before she could respond, his boots striking the floor in brisk, deliberate steps.
As he retreated, the voice returned, quieter now but no less condemning.
You should never get close to Audrey. You have no right to.
Cedric’s jaw tightened as he stalked down the dim hallway leading to his study. The memories of the past dogged his steps, and by the time he pushed open the heavy oak door, he felt as unsettled as the storm raging outside.
The room was cold, the hearth darkened save for the faint embers in the grate.
Cedric stepped toward his desk, his gaze landing on the object that lay in its center—the ruby necklace, the brilliant stone glinting in the pale light.
His fingers brushed the chain, and a wave of memories flooded his mind, unbidden and merciless.
The night of Cecilia’s debut shimmered in his mind, the scene so vivid that he could nearly smell the faint scent of the gardenias his mother had insisted upon.
She descended the grand staircase with the grace of a queen, the ivory lace of her dress glowing in the candlelight. The ruby necklace rested against her throat, the brilliant jewel drawing every eye in the room. Behind her, their mother beamed with pride, her delicate features softening as she adjusted a pin in Cecilia’s hair.
Cedric, then a lanky nineteen-year-old, leaned casually against the banister, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold below.
“Why are you standing so stiffly?” he teased, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Are you hoping to charm the ton by impersonating a statue?”
Cecilia’s steps faltered briefly, her cheeks flushing as she turned to glare at him. “This is how a lady stands, Cedric,” she retorted, her voice clipped. “One must have a perfect posture to command respect.”
He scoffed, straightening to descend a few steps. “Command respect? From whom? The ton?” He shook his head, his grin widening. “What nonsense. What do you care what Society thinks?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her chin tilting upward in a gesture of defiance. “We are nothing without Society, Brother.”
Cedric rolled his eyes, letting out a low chuckle. “Silly girl,” he said, his tone affectionate despite the insult. “I’m the Marquess of Durnham, soon to be Duke of Haremore. What need have I for their approval? And as my sister, you needn’t care either.”
Cecilia’s glare sharpened as she brushed past him, her skirts swishing indignantly. “Not all of us have the luxury of such arrogance, Cedric. Some of us must actually try to make something of ourselves.”
He watched her go, an amused chuckle rumbling in his chest.
Their father’s voice drifted from the drawing room, rich with approval. “Exquisite,” he declared. “You’ll find a most worthy match this Season, my dear girl.”
Cedric rolled his eyes again, muttering under his breath. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder and glanced back to find her smiling at him.
“One day,” she said, her voice soft, “you’ll understand that you cannot live alone forever, Cedric. You may think you don’t need Society, but Society needs you.”
“I don’t,” he grumbled, though there was no real conviction in his voice.
His mother laughed softly as she moved past him.
Cedric blinked, the memory fading as the present crashed back around him. His hand gripped the necklace tightly, the edges of the ruby digging into his palm. His chest felt tight, the familiar ache of loss twisting within him.
“You loved Society, but it scorned you, Cecilia,” he whispered.
A knock at the door startled him, and he exhaled sharply, releasing the necklace as though it had burned him.
“Enter,” he called, his voice rough.
The door creaked open to reveal Potts, who inclined his head in greeting. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone measured. “Mr. Johnson is here. There is an estate matter that requires your immediate attention.”
Relief shot through Cedric, cutting through the haze. “Excellent,” he said, rising from his chair with brisk determination. “Exactly what I need.”
He crossed to the door, his strides purposeful. As he passed Potts, the butler hesitated, furrowing his brow slightly.
“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” he asked.
Cedric paused, glancing back at the ruby necklace still lying on his desk. Then, he straightened. “Everything is fine, Potts,” he said evenly. “Lead the way.”
And with that, he left the room, leaving the past where it belonged—buried but never truly forgotten.
Cedric’s heart thudded in his chest the following afternoon, and his pacing grew more agitated. He tugged at his cravat for what felt like the hundredth time, the crisp linen suddenly feeling suffocating.
The drawing room was warm, almost stifling, but he suspected that had more to do with his inner turmoil than the roaring fire in the grate. He glanced toward the window, beyond which the bright winter sun glinted off the snowy landscape. His eyes flickered to the distant horizon, where the lake lay hidden, a place of frozen water and darker memories.
He had not skated since… well, since Cecilia’s death. His chest tightened at the thought, the ache as sharp and familiar as it had been all those years ago. The lake was the home of a great tragedy, a place where too much had been lost. The idea of returning there now, with Audrey of all people, felt reckless. He knew he had invited her to skate, had offered to teach her as a way to coax her out of the cold confines of the castle. But what had possessed him? Perhaps it was madness. Perhaps it was folly.
The door creaked open, startling him.
Cedric spun on his heel, only to find Peter Potts standing there, a large box in his arms and a grin on his face.
“I worked as fast as I could, Your Grace,” the boy announced, striding in and setting the box down on the table with the enthusiasm of one presenting a royal treasure.
Cedric exhaled, the sight of Peter’s youthful exuberance soothing his frayed nerves. “Well done, Peter,” he said, his voice steady.
He opened the box and inspected its contents, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Peter’s eyes sparkled as he leaned in, practically bouncing on his heels. “Will the Duchess be here today?” he asked eagerly. “I asked Mrs. Potts for an introduction, but she must have forgotten—or maybe she got carried away. She does get carried away sometimes, doesn’t she?”
Cedric chuckled despite himself. “Stay here, and you shall meet her soon enough,” he replied. “She’ll be joining us shortly.”
As if summoned by his words, the door opened again and Audrey entered the room.
Peter’s eyes widened, and his mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of astonishment. He froze as if struck by lightning, his youthful energy replaced by a kind of reverent awe.
“Your Grace,” he stammered, bowing so low that he nearly toppled over. “I-I h-hope you’ll like His Grace’s gift!” He gestured toward the box, his face redder than a ripe apple.
Audrey’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced between the boy and Cedric. “His Grace’s gift?” she repeated, her tone teasing. “How intriguing.”
Cedric cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “That will be all, Peter.”
The boy hesitated, casting one last starstruck glance at Audrey. “If you’re ever in need of a cloakmaker, Your Grace, you must consider me,” he blurted out. “I’ve been apprenticing under my aunt, and I’m quite good at it.”
Audrey laughed—a warm and genuine sound. “I shall certainly keep you in mind, Peter. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
Peter’s cheeks flushed deeper as he skipped out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Cedric chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to Audrey. “He’s hopelessly enamored,” he remarked, only to find her brilliant blue eyes fixed on him.
“You’re fond of him,” she noted, her tone light but knowing.
Cedric arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think so?”
She tilted her head, a playful smile gracing her lips. “He speaks to you as if you’re not the gruff and brooding Duke of Haremore.”
His lips curled into a smile. “I am not a beast, you know.”
“Of course not,” she replied with mock seriousness. “You’re merely a gruff and brooding duke.”
He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained.
“Well, Duchess,” he said, “I have something for you.” He gestured toward the box on the table.
Audrey’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “For me?” she asked, her excitement barely concealed.
“Calm down,” he teased. “It is not a diamond necklace.”
“Good,” she said, lifting her chin. “I do not need diamonds. I have a perfectly lovely necklace that I found in our London townhouse.”
Cedric inclined his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Have you claimed all the jewelry you found there?”
“Indeed, I have,” she replied, her tone prim. “I even sent you a letter detailing my discoveries and claims.”
Cedric paused mid-stride and looked over his shoulder.
Letter? What letter?
Audrey continued, oblivious to his sudden tension. “I confess, I was surprised when you looked so shocked to see me wearing Lady Cecilia’s necklace. I assumed you’d read my letter and knew I would wear it. But now I see it was shock of a different kind.”
Cedric cursed himself inwardly, recalling a letter he had received weeks after their wedding. He had dismissed it in the chaos of his departure, and now it loomed in his mind like a specter. He would have to find it.
“Cedric?” Audrey’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and questioning.
He blinked, startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“The letter,” she repeated. “Surely you’ve read it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling a vague response before quickly pulling a deep blue woolen cloak out of the box. “Here,” he said, holding it up.
Audrey’s eyes widened as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing the fabric tentatively. “It’s exquisite,” she murmured. “So soft.”
He draped the cloak over her shoulders, his hands lingering as he adjusted it. The gesture drew her closer to him, their proximity charged with tension.
“I can’t have my Duchess freezing,” he murmured, his voice low.
Audrey looked up at him, her cheeks touched with a faint blush. “You have excellent taste,” she said softly.
Cedric smiled, offering her his arm. “One learns a great deal about their wife’s preferences when receiving monthly bills from the modiste that would put princesses to shame.”
Audrey’s blush deepened. “It wasn’t entirely coincidental,” she admitted. “I wanted to see if there was an amount that would break your determination to keep your distance.”
He chuckled, the sound warm. “You cannot shock me, Audrey. I may live in an old castle, but I am still a duke. I am familiar with the finer things in life.”
She muttered something under her breath, but he caught the words, “Yet, you are not familiar with your Duchess.”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I am now.”
Audrey gasped softly, her blush deepening as she turned away.
They stepped into the grand foyer, where Potts stood with an uncharacteristic smile.
Cedric raised an eyebrow. “Is all well, Potts?”
“The sun is shining, Your Grace,” Potts replied.
Sure enough, when they stepped outside, the golden light reflected off the snow, casting a warm glow over the frosty landscape.
Audrey turned to Cedric, her eyes bright. “Perhaps this augurs good fortune for us.”
Cedric nodded, though a pang of unease twisted in his chest. He wasn’t ready for her to return to London, wasn’t ready to let her go.
He helped her onto her horse, his hands steady despite the maelstrom of emotions within him. As he moved to mount his own horse, he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the distant lake.
Should I call this off?
The thought lingered, heavy and insistent.
Shaking it away, he mounted his horse. It was too late to back down now.