Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
A udrey’s boot tapped a restless rhythm on the wooden floor of the carriage. Outside, London passed in a dull blur of gray stone and flickering lamplight, but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were too consumed by the events of the previous day—specifically, the Duke of Haremore , who apparently thought that ignoring her existence was the perfect remedy for his foul mood.
Her jaw clenched as she remembered him riding beside the coachman for the remainder of their journey to London.
Honestly, if he wished to avoid me so badly, he might have stayed in Cumberland.
And then last night—oh, last night—he had ignored her entirely, vanishing from the house like a phantom and only returning well past midnight. She had half a mind to throw a boot at him when she heard the door creak open in the dead of night.
She understood that the townhouse carried so many memories—of his sister, his family—but why must she pay the price for his misery? Why must he make her feel as though she were an unwelcome guest in her own home?
The carriage jolted to a stop, and Audrey’s heart lurched in tandem.
“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, adjusting her bonnet and smoothing down the folds of her traveling dress with sharp, agitated movements.
The door opened, and she accepted the butler’s hand as she alighted, her steps brisk and purposeful.
“Welcome to Stonebridge House, Your Grace,” he intoned with a graceful bow.
“Thank you,” Audrey replied, though she did not pause to exchange pleasantries.
She swept past him, the soft swishing of her skirts echoing her irritation as she marched toward the drawing room.
She had barely crossed the threshold when she heard an exclamation.
“Audrey!”
Grace rose from the settee in a flurry of skirts, her face lighting up with equal parts relief and joy. Beside her, Clarise stood as well, her shy smile easing the pressure in Audrey’s chest.
“Oh, my dear,” Grace said warmly, rushing to clasp Audrey’s hands. “When did you arrive in London? We did not receive word!”
Audrey’s lips curled into the faintest smile as she squeezed her stepmother’s hands. “Yesterday afternoon. I had planned to visit straightaway, but…” She hesitated, her smile dimming as her thoughts turned, unbidden, to Cedric. “I hoped Cedric would join me, and I wanted to persuade him.”
Grace furrowed her brow. “The Duke is in town as well?”
“Yes,” Audrey replied tightly, choosing not to elaborate. “And how have you all been?” Her gaze shifted to Clarise, who stood quietly by the fireplace, wringing her pale hands.
Grace’s expression seemed to dim. “Things have… not improved,” she admitted softly. “Lilianna hardly leaves her room. She refuses to eat with us, and the gossip sheets—they are relentless, Audrey. Every day, they find some new cruelty to print.”
Audrey’s stomach sank.
I should have come sooner.
She knew the snow had delayed them, but the guilt gnawed at her nonetheless. “Where is she now?”
“Upstairs,” Clarise murmured. “In her bedchamber.”
Audrey didn’t wait for further explanation. She turned and climbed up the stairs, her steps quick but silent. She reached Lilianna’s door and knocked on it softly.
“Lilianna?” she called gently. “It’s me, Audrey.”
There was no answer.
Audrey pressed her ear against the door and listened. There was a faint rustling, something scraping across paper, but still no response.
“I’m coming in,” she said after a pause, turning the handle and stepping inside.
The room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the daylight. Lilianna lay on her bed, her ink-stained fingers clutching a quill as she scribbled furiously into what appeared to be a leather-bound diary.
Audrey’s heart lurched, the sight all too familiar—Cecilia’s diary , the one she had found in the west wing of Haremore Castle.
“Lilianna,” she said softly, stepping closer.
Her sister’s head snapped up, her blue eyes wide and red-rimmed from crying. “Audrey,” she breathed, her voice hoarse. She straightened slightly, the diary slipping onto the quilt. “You’ve been gone a fortnight.”
Audrey’s chest tightened at the accusation, though she knew Lilianna didn’t mean it. The words were laced with fear, not anger.
“And now we have only two weeks,” Lilianna added, her voice breaking. “Or less.”
Audrey crossed the room in quick strides, perching on the edge of the bed. “Lilianna, it’s all right.” She reached out, smoothing her sister’s tangled hair back from her face. “I’m here now.”
Lilianna’s lower lip trembled. “I sent letters—so many letters. I thought… I thought…” She swallowed hard, her voice faltering. “Father says he will act soon. If you do not help me, he will marry me off to?—”
“He won’t,” Audrey interrupted firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “I will handle it, Lilianna. I swear it.”
Her sister looked up at her, her eyes glistening with tears. “He’s gone, Audrey. Rashford. He hasn’t sent me a single letter. Not one. Perhaps he never cared at all.”
Audrey’s heart twisted at the despondence in her sister’s voice. “Do you know where he is?” she asked gently.
Lilianna shook her head. “No. He said something about his father buying him a commission, but I… I do not know where. I thought he loved me, but now I cannot even be certain of that.”
Audrey gathered her sister into her arms, feeling the slight tremors in her shoulders as she cried softly. “It will be all right,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “You have me, Lilianna. I will make this right. You must trust me.”
Lilianna clung to her, burying her face in Audrey’s shoulder. For a long moment, neither spoke, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the mantel.
Finally, Audrey pulled back, brushing a tear from her sister’s cheek. “Come now. You cannot hide away forever. You will come downstairs with me.”
Lilianna hesitated, her eyes darting toward the diary still lying on the bed. “I cannot…”
“Yes, you can,” Audrey said firmly, smoothing back her sister’s hair once more. “And you will. You are a Winslow, Lilianna, and Winslows do not hide.”
Something flickered in her sister’s eyes—a ghost of the fiery spirit Audrey knew lived within her.
With a small nod, Lilianna allowed Audrey to help her off the bed and adjust her rumpled dress. Together, they descended the stairs, their steps slow and steady.
Audrey paused just inside the drawing room, her heart stuttering at the sight of her father. He stood by the window, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his presence as commanding as ever despite the silver streaking his hair. He turned around when they entered, his sharp gaze landing immediately on Audrey.
“Finally,” he said, his voice cool. “You have returned.”
Audrey stiffened, lifting her chin slightly. “I have.”
His gaze flicked to Lilianna, who hovered near the door, her head bowed. “And you have brought your sister down. I suppose that is some progress.”
Audrey’s temper flared, but she kept it tightly in check. “How could you let things get this far?” she demanded, stepping forward. “You know that what they say about her isn’t true. Why would you even consider marrying her off like some—some burden to be rid of?”
Her father’s lips thinned. “Because, Audrey, unlike you, I do not live in fantasies. I have arranged a marriage for Lilianna, and it will proceed as planned.”
“No,” Audrey said sharply. “You cannot do this. She deserves better.”
“And who will give her better?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You? The absent Duchess who left her family to rot while she played the dutiful wife?”
Audrey froze, his words landing like a slap. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady. “I sent letters, Father. You knew we were snowed in.”
“And yet you are here now, with barely a fortnight left,” he sneered. “I suggest you do what you claimed you will do before time runs out.”
Audrey’s fists clenched at her sides. “You are being unreasonable.”
“No, I am being realistic,” he snapped. “The arrangements have been made, and I will not undo them. Unless you have some grand plan, I suggest you leave me be.”
Audrey opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. Her chest tightened with frustration, with helplessness, and a sharp, fleeting thought cut through the haze of anger.
Where in God’s name is Cedric?
Just then, a sound came from the doorway, and she turned to see the butler.
Her father turned sharply toward the doorway, his lips thinning in irritation at being interrupted.
“My Lord,” the butler intoned, his voice reverberating through the room, “His Grace, the Duke of Haremore, is here.”
Audrey froze. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat as every muscle in her body tensed.
Cedric? Here?
She turned to the butler as if she had misheard him, but there it was—the name that filled her with both dread and fury. Surprise flickered across her father’s face before his expression smoothed into one of carefully measured civility.
“Show him in,” he said, his voice clipped but unmistakably respectful.
Audrey’s hands curled into fists against the folds of her dress as Cedric strode into the room moments later. He was impeccably dressed, though his appearance remained effortlessly imposing. His tall frame, broad shoulders, and dark coat cut a striking figure against the delicate hues of the drawing room.
He paused near the threshold, his brown eyes sweeping over the room until they landed on Audrey.
She glared at him, letting him feel every ounce of her anger.
You might have come, but you are far too late, Your Grace.
His expression didn’t waver—not a single muscle moved. He simply regarded her with that infuriating calmness that suggested nothing ever rattled him.
Her father stepped forward, bowing his head deeply. “Your Grace,” he said smoothly, his tone almost obsequious. “This is an unexpected honor.”
Cedric inclined his head in reply, his manner cool but perfectly polite. “Lord Stonebridge.”
Audrey watched the exchange with a bitter twist of her lips. Of course, her father treated Cedric with nothing but reverence. Why wouldn’t he? The man had married her off to Cedric for precisely this reason—his title, his influence, his unshakable power.
Cedric’s gaze flickered back to her for the briefest moment, and her glare sharpened.
Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgiven you.
“Lady Stonebridge,” Cedric said, turning toward her stepmother. His voice was clipped but not unkind. “Lady Clarise, Lady Lilianna.” He acknowledged them with a polite bow, though Audrey noted the distinct coolness in his tone. He hadn’t lost his manners, but warmth was another matter entirely.
Grace rose, smiling as she curtsied. “Your Grace, welcome.”
Lilianna and Clarise murmured their greetings as well, though both looked wide-eyed as they regarded him.
Cedric’s presence tended to have that effect, Audrey thought irritably. He looked as though he had been carved from stone—stern, imposing, and impossible to ignore.
He turned back to her father, and just like that, Audrey felt as though she had been dismissed. The two men moved a little further away, speaking in low, measured tones. She had no idea what they were discussing, nor did she care. The sight of him speaking so casually with her father, his posture all strength and confidence, only grated on her further.
“Is he always so stern?” Clarise whispered, leaning closer to her.
Audrey glanced at her youngest sister, startled by the question. Clarise’s wide, curious eyes were fixed on Cedric, her expression somewhere between awe and wariness.
“He looks like he wants to duel someone. I can see why you wanted to stay away from him for so long,” Lilianna chimed in, her voice just as low.
Audrey stiffened slightly, turning to glare at both of her sisters. “That is unkind,” she said quietly but firmly. “He does not duel people on sight, nor is he as terrible as you imagine.”
Lilianna raised an eyebrow. “He looks dreadful. All scowling and brooding. Like a wolf on the hunt.”
Audrey shot Cedric another glance, her lips pressing into a thin line. He did look rather brooding, standing as he was with his hands clasped behind his back, his brow furrowed slightly as he listened to whatever nonsense her father was surely spewing. Still, her sisters’ words nettled her.
“He is not as terrible as he seems,” she insisted a bit more heatedly than she had intended. “Cedric—he can be refreshingly honest. And straightforward. Unlike so many men in the ton.”
Clarise furrowed her brow. “Honest?”
“Yes,” Audrey said firmly. “He doesn’t play games or pander to anyone. He says what he thinks, whether people wish to hear it or not.”
“Like a savage,” Lilianna muttered.
Audrey shot her a sharp look. “Not a savage. He simply disregards rules that others adhere to, which is… refreshing, at times.”
Clarise tilted her head, her expression puzzled. “Do you not dislike him, though?”
Audrey paused. It was a fair question, and one that left her unsettled.
“I do not dislike him,” she said finally, though her voice was softer now. “He is… kind when he wishes to be. You simply have to know him.”
Lilianna’s gaze turned skeptical, her lips pursed. “Well, I certainly do not know him, but I shall take your word for it.”
Grace joined them then, settling into a chair beside Audrey. “Do stop tormenting your sister,” she admonished gently, though her tone was warm. She looked at Audrey with a small smile. “It is good to have you here, dear. We’ve all missed you.”
Audrey felt her shoulders relax slightly. “And I you,” she said softly.
Grace reached over and patted her hand. “I wanted to tell you—though things have been difficult, not everyone has turned against us. Lilianna has found support from some unexpected quarters.”
Audrey turned sharply to her stepmother, furrowing her brow.
Truly?