Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
“ W hat do you mean?” Audrey asked.
Grace’s expression softened. “Two young ladies—friends from her debut—have visited. They have spoken kindly about her, even when others have not. I believe Lilianna has earned herself a few true friends.”
Audrey glanced at her sister, who looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“It is nothing,” Lilianna murmured. “They are only trying to be kind.”
“It is not nothing, ” Grace said gently. “Miss Sarah Abbot and Lady Margaret McLeod seem honest and caring. It is proof that not all of the ton is as cruel as it seems.”
Audrey’s heart swelled slightly. It wasn’t much—certainly not enough to fix the situation—but it was something. And for Lilianna, who had seemed so despondent moments ago, it was a glimmer of hope.
Audrey squeezed her stepmother’s hand, her voice soft but full of resolve. “We will fix this, Mother. I promise you.”
Grace gave her a faint smile. “I know you will.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Audrey caught Cedric turning toward them, his conversation with her father apparently over. His eyes met hers briefly from across the room, and despite herself, she stiffened. There was no anger in his gaze—no warmth either—only that unreadable, steady calm that she had come to find so maddening.
He approached her then, his dark eyes steady, though his expression betrayed nothing.
“Will you walk with me?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.
Audrey blinked. Of all the things she had expected him to do, this had not been one of them. He was rarely this direct in his intentions, especially when it came to her.
Her gaze darted briefly to her sisters and Grace, who were watching their exchange with thinly veiled curiosity. A hundred questions raced through her mind. What did he want? What was he playing at? But she pushed them away.
“Yes,” she said simply, placing her hand in his.
His grip was firm, warm even through the thin material of her glove, as he led her toward the garden.
She glanced at him, noting the faint crease in his brow, the way his jaw looked sharper when he wasn’t speaking. He was always so composed, but there was something more today—he looked slightly unsettled.
They walked down the gravel path in silence, and for a while, neither spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not exactly. He had always preferred silence to unnecessary chatter, but there was something about her silence now that unsettled him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at him—curious, watchful—as if he were a puzzle she could solve if only she studied the pieces long enough. He ignored it at first, kept his gaze fixed on the frost-tipped hedges ahead, but eventually, her silence became too much.
“You are angry with me,” he said at last, his voice low and matter-of-fact.
Audrey lifted her chin slightly, her gloved hands clenching at her sides. “Of course I am.”
He turned his head to look at her, his eyebrow rising in response to her biting tone. He supposed he deserved it—though he wasn’t inclined to admit as much just yet.
She stopped walking abruptly, turning to face him with a suddenness that forced him to stop as well. Her blue eyes, sharp and flashing, pinned him in place as her hands settled firmly on her hips.
“Shall I list your offenses, Your Grace, or do you remember them?”
He exhaled through his nose, suppressing the faint twitch of his lips. She was magnificent when she was cross—fiery, unrelenting.
“Indulge me,” he said mildly.
“Oh, gladly.” Audrey’s voice sharpened as she began counting on her fingers, each motion crisp and deliberate. “First, you stepped out of the carriage to sit with the coachman. I do not care if you were brooding—what gentleman abandons a lady like that? Second, you stayed out of the house most of the night and then refused to dine with me. Third,” she added, her voice rising slightly, “I didn’t see you this morning. Not a word. Not even a grunt.”
Cedric inclined his head slowly, as though considering her words. “A grunt?”
“It is more than you have given me at times,” she shot back, glaring at him. “And do not pretend you were blameless, Cedric. You know you were wrong.”
For once, he had no retort, because she was right—entirely, completely right. He had abandoned her. He had acted like a coward, too consumed by his loathing of Haremore House, of London, of himself, to consider how his actions might affect her. She had every right to be angry.
And yet, rather than defend himself—as he so often did—he found the words slipping out with surprising ease.
“I apologize,” he said simply.
Audrey blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You… what?”
“I said I apologize,” he repeated, his voice steady. “You are right. I behaved poorly.”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if searching his face for any hint of mockery or insincerity. Finding none, her expression softened, though her wariness lingered. “Well… good. I accept your apology.”
Cedric inclined his head slightly. “How very generous of you, princess. ”
Her lips twitched despite herself, the corners of her mouth betraying the smile she was trying to suppress.
“You are here now,” she said softly, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced hand. “And that is what matters most.”
Something unfamiliar bloomed in Cedric’s chest—something warm and entirely unwelcome. He looked at her then, really looked at her, and was struck once again by the quiet strength she carried.
For two years he had dismissed her as little more than a pretty ornament—a product of the ton, shallow and vain. But now… now he saw her fighting for her family with a tenacity that made him question every assumption he had ever made.
“And what are we going to do now?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter than before.
Audrey tilted her head, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips. “London knows you’re here now, or they soon will. The first thing we must do is wait, just a little, to see what happens.”
He frowned slightly, the words grating against his impatience. “Wait? I hardly think gossip will fix itself, Audrey.”
“You underestimate the power of curiosity,” she replied, her blue eyes alight with something almost mischievous. “London thrives on it, and the Duke of Haremore returning to town after two years of self-imposed exile? That is not something they will ignore.”
Cedric grunted, though he could not deny that she had a point. He had avoided London for so long, and yet here he was, dragged into the spotlight against his will. He supposed it was inevitable. A man could not carry his title and hide forever.
Before he could respond, a flurry of movement caught his eye. Grace appeared at the edge of the path, her cheeks flushed and a folded sheet of parchment clutched triumphantly in her hand. Her skirts swished against her legs as she hurried toward them, her breath misting in the cool air.
“Audrey! Your Grace!” she called, holding up the paper as though it were a prize. “You must see this.”
Cedric exchanged a glance with Audrey before turning his attention to Grace. “What is it?”
Grace reached them, her smile brimming with excitement as she held out the parchment. “It is an invitation from Lady Margaret McLeod’s aunt, the Countess of Kirkland. It was penned not ten minutes ago, I am certain of it. The ink is still smudged.”
Cedric took the paper, his thumb brushing over the damp ink as Grace had said. The words were hastily written but elegant nonetheless, each letter looping across the page with practiced refinement.
He frowned slightly. “The Countess of Kirkland? Why is she so eager to extend her hospitality?”
Grace’s gaze flicked between him and Audrey. “Why, because word of your presence has spread, Your Grace. You are London’s most intriguing topic of conversation, I daresay.”
Cedric blinked, startled by the claim. “Surely not.”
Audrey, for her part, looked equally surprised. “I knew your presence would stir some talk, but?—”
“You downplayed it,” Cedric said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Did you not say London would barely care?”
“I may have miscalculated,” she admitted, though the faint note of satisfaction in her voice did not escape him. “You see, you are gossip-worthy.”
Cedric grunted in response, though the words settled uneasily in his chest. He found the notion of being ‘gossip-worthy’ distinctly unsettling, but there was no point in arguing. The ink-stained paper in his hands was proof enough.
“You ought to listen to your wife more often,” Grace added with a sly smile.
Before Cedric could respond, Lilianna and Clarise appeared at the edge of the path, both of them nearly bouncing with excitement.
“Is it true?” Lilianna asked breathlessly, her wide eyes darting to Audrey. “We have been invited to the Countess’s soirée?”
“Yes,” Grace replied with a proud smile, holding up the invitation once more. “And all because of His Grace. ”
Cedric looked at Audrey again, whose expression held a faint triumph that rankled more than it should have. For once, he found he couldn’t begrudge her the victory. She had been right—London cared, more than he had expected.
“Perhaps I should listen to you more often,” he murmured, the admission gruff but genuine.
Audrey’s gaze met his, steady and knowing. “Perhaps you should,” she replied softly.
Cedric didn’t respond. Instead, he looked at her— really looked at her—and realized, with no small amount of reluctance, that she might just be the only person who understood how to navigate the chaos they now faced.