Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
“ W hy must it always be you?” Cedric growled, his voice echoing through the cavernous study.
His hands gripped the edge of the desk, the wood biting into his palms, but he welcomed the pain. It was a tether to reality, to the cold, unyielding truth he couldn’t escape.
He released the desk and stalked toward the fireplace, grappling with his responsibility to avenge and uphold honor, to bear his family’s tragedies, and to deal with Rashford. He yanked his cravat loose, tossing it onto a nearby chair, his movements sharp and unrefined—unlike the poised facade he had presented at the ball.
Audrey’s voice echoed in his mind. “How can you think that this will solve anything? You think Cecilia would want this? You think she would want you to die for her honor?”
He flinched, the memory slicing through him as cleanly as a blade. He ran a hand through his dark hair, gripping the strands at the crown of his head as if he could wrench the thoughts from his mind by sheer force. But they lingered, tormenting him endlessly.
“She doesn’t understand,” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. He dropped his hand, clenching it at his side. “She cannot understand.”
And yet, a part of him—a small, insistent voice buried deep within—whispered that she did understand. That was what terrified him the most. Audrey’s eyes, wide with anguish, had seen through every wall he had painstakingly built. She had seen his pain, his guilt, his fury. And worst of all, she had seen the truth: that this was not just about Cecilia. It was about himself, too. About the man he had become and the man he could never hope to be.
He turned away from the fireplace and strode to the sideboard, where a decanter of whiskey gleamed amber in the firelight. For a long moment, he stared at it, his chest rising and falling with erratic breaths. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since his father’s death, had sworn to never let it dull his senses or loosen his restraint. But tonight, the thought of facing the hours ahead without its numbing effects was unbearable.
Cedric reached for the decanter, his hand steady despite his inner turmoil. He poured the whiskey into a glass, the liquid catching the light like molten gold. The scent invaded his nostrils, sharp and familiar, and for a moment, he hesitated.
Then, he drank.
The burn was immediate, scorching his throat and settling like fire in his chest. He closed his eyes, the sensation both painful and oddly comforting. The glass was empty before he knew it, and his hand moved to refill it almost on instinct.
Audrey’s face flashed through his mind again—her pale cheeks, her trembling lips, her voice breaking as she pleaded with him to reconsider.
“How many people will lose you, Cedric?”
The glass trembled in his hand, but he tightened his grip on it. He downed the second drink in a single swallow, the heat spreading through him with a false sense of clarity.
He placed the empty glass on the desk with deliberate precision, his movements slow and controlled, though his mind was anything but. The edges of his anger had dulled, but his decisions remained, pressing down on him like an iron shackle.
“This is what honor demands,” he murmured to himself, the words hollow and heavy. His gaze fell to the letter from Belleville, which lay open on the desk beside him. The arrangements were set. Green Park. At dawn.
Cedric turned back to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared into the flames, his expression hardening. He knew he was right to challenge Rashford. He knew the man deserved to answer for his crimes, to face the consequences of his actions. His sister had been just one of many. Lilianna might have been next. And he would not—could not—stand by and let it happen again.
But Audrey…
His breath hitched, and his hands clenched into fists. She had followed him to the study, her presence a force of nature he hadn’t been prepared for. Her determination, her defiance—it had shaken him. And when she had called him out, her words cutting through his defenses, he had been unable to meet her gaze.
“Is that all I am to you? A stranger? A woman you are saddled with through duty and nothing more?”
The memory twisted like a knife in his gut. He had wanted to tell her—needed to tell her—that she was wrong. That she was more to him than he had ever intended. But the words had stuck in his throat, a barrier he couldn’t overcome. Because to admit it would be to invite hope. And hope was a luxury he could not afford.
His jaw tightened as he turned away from the fire, his strides purposeful as he returned to the desk. He opened the top drawer and withdrew a small, unadorned box. Inside was a dueling pistol, its polished surface gleaming in the flickering light. He traced a finger over the cool metal, his expression unreadable.
For years, he had avoided confrontation, choosing solitude over entanglement, silence over conflict. But this… this was different. This was justice.
A knock at the door startled him, and his head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Who is it?” he barked, his voice harsher than he had intended.
The door opened cautiously, and Belleville stepped inside, his expression grim. “Haremore,” he said quietly. “Are you certain about this?”
Cedric met his gaze, his jaw set. “I am.”
Belleville sighed, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room, his footsteps soft against the floorboards, and stopped a few paces from Cedric. “You’ve thought this through?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve considered the consequences? The scandal? The risk to your title, your estate, your?—”
“This is not about titles or estates,” Cedric interrupted sharply. “This is about what’s right. Rashford has gone unchecked for too long. If I do not stop him, who will?”
Belleville studied him for a long moment, furrowing his brow. “And Audrey?” he asked softly. “What of her?”
Cedric’s chest tightened, but he forced his expression to remain impassive. “Audrey will understand,” he said, though the words rang false even to his own ears.
Belleville’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Will she?”
Cedric turned away, his gaze falling to the pistol in his hand. “This is my choice,” he said quietly. “Not hers.”
Belleville nodded slowly, though his eyes remained troubled. “Very well,” he said. “If this is the path you’ve chosen, I will stand by you. But know this, Haremore—honor is not won with blood. It is earned through the choices we make, and the people we protect.”
With that, he turned and left, softly closing the door behind him.
Cedric stood alone once more, the silence closing in on him like a living thing. He set the pistol back in its box and closed the lid, his movements precise and deliberate. Then, he reached for the whiskey again, pouring himself another measure and raising it to his lips.
For the first time since Cecilia’s death, Cedric allowed himself to grieve—not for her, but for the man he might have been had the world been kinder.
And then he drank.
“I was wrong,” came Lilianna’s voice
Audrey froze in the doorway, her gloved hand resting lightly against the polished frame.
Lilianna sat on the settee, her fingers gripping a handkerchief tightly as she glanced up at their mother and Lord Belleville, who stood near the fireplace.
“Lilianna?” Audrey prompted, her voice calm but distant as she stepped into the drawing room.
Lilianna’s head snapped toward her, her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto Audrey’s. “You were right, Audrey,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Rashford is a cad—a terrible, heartless man. I don’t know what would have happened if I had met him.”
Audrey stopped short, her stomach twisting at her sister’s words. For a moment, she felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs. But she smoothed her expression into one of detached calm, her training as a duchess taking over.
“I am glad you see that now,” she said quietly, her voice measured. She looked at Belleville, inclining her head slightly. “Thank you for explaining the truth to them, My Lord. It seems your words were well-received.”
Belleville nodded, though his gaze lingered on her, sharp and searching. Audrey refused to meet his eyes, instead turning to her mother, whose face was etched with concern.
“Mother, I need to pack,” she said firmly. “I would appreciate your help.”
Grace furrowed her brow, opening her mouth as if to protest, but Audrey had already turned on her heel. She moved toward the door with purposeful strides, not waiting for a response.
“Lilianna, you should rest. You’ve had a trying evening,” she added over her shoulder.
Her mother and sister exchanged a glance, but neither spoke.
Audrey swept out of the drawing room, her head held high, her steps brisk as she ascended the staircase. The moment she reached her bedchamber, however, her composure wavered. She paused in the doorway, her hands clutching the edges of her skirts as she forced herself to breathe.
Focus on the task . Tasks are simple. Tasks are clear.
“Miss Smith,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the stillness.
The maid appeared almost instantly, her face lined with worry. “Your Grace?”
“We are packing. Quickly.”
Miss Smith hesitated, glancing toward the open wardrobe, but one look at Audrey’s expression silenced her questions. She curtsied and set to work without another word.
Moments later, Grace and Lilianna entered the room, their faces etched with concern.
Grace moved to Audrey’s side, her hand brushing her arm lightly. “Audrey, what is this?” she asked gently. “Why are you packing? What has happened?”
“I am leaving,” Audrey said simply, her voice devoid of emotion. She crossed to the vanity and began gathering her jewelry, placing each piece carefully into its velvet-lined box. “I will stay with you for the time being.”
“Leaving?” Lilianna repeated, her voice rising slightly. She moved closer, her brow furrowed. “Audrey, what do you mean? What happened with Cedric?”
Audrey ignored the question, her movements precise as she folded a silk shawl and placed it into the open trunk. She focused on the rhythm of her actions, the soothing motions of folding, stacking, and arranging. Each motion was an anchor, pulling her back from the edge of chaos.
“Mother,” she said, her tone clipped, “could you oversee the packing of the other trunk? There is little time.”
Grace’s lips thinned, her worry growing. She exchanged a glance with Lilianna before moving toward the wardrobe. “Of course, my dear,” she said softly. “But I think you should?—”
“There is nothing to discuss,” Audrey interrupted, her voice sharper than she had intended. She paused, drawing a steadying breath. “Forgive me, Mama. Please, just… help me pack.”
The room fell into a tense silence. Audrey worked methodically, her hands moving with practiced precision, but her mind was a storm of fragmented thoughts and emotions. Cedric’s face lingered in her mind—his stormy gaze, his clipped words, the tension that had radiated from him like a physical force.
“What are you not telling us?” Lilianna asked suddenly, her voice trembling. “Audrey, please. I know something is wrong.”
Audrey stilled, the shawl slipping from her fingers. She turned slowly, her expression carefully blank. “If you must know,” she uttered, her voice quiet and controlled, “Cedric intends to duel Rashford at dawn.”
A gasp escaped Lilianna, and Grace’s hand flew to her mouth.
“A duel?” Grace whispered, her voice shaking. “Oh, Audrey. No.”
“I tried to stop him,” Audrey continued flatly, as though she were recounting a list of figures on a ledger. “I told him it would solve nothing. That he could be arrested—or worse, killed. But he would not listen.”
Lilianna’s eyes glistened with fresh tears. “Audrey?—”
“And so I told him I was leaving,” Audrey said, cutting her off. She lifted her chin, her voice hardening. “And he… he did not stop me.” Her voice cracked on the final word, and she quickly turned away, reaching for the nearest gown and folding it with trembling hands. “There is nothing more to say.”
Grace moved to her side, gently but firmly taking the gown from her hands. “Audrey,” she said softly. “Please, sit down. Miss Smith and the footmen can manage the packing.”
“I am perfectly capable?—”
“Sit down,” Grace said firmly, guiding Audrey to the edge of the bed. Lilianna knelt before her, her wide eyes filled with concern.
Audrey stared at her hands, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirts. The walls she had so carefully built around her began to crack, her emotions pushing against them with relentless force.
“I told him I was leaving,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “And he let me go. He did not stop me.”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, unable to hold back the sobs that wracked her body. Grace and Lilianna enveloped her in a tight hug, their warmth and love breaking through the barriers she had tried so desperately to maintain.
“I hoped,” Audrey choked out between sobs. “I hoped he would stop me. That he would… that he would see me as something more than an obligation.”
“Oh, Audrey,” Lilianna whispered, her own tears falling as she held her sister tightly. “He does care for you. He must.”
Audrey shook her head, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anguish. “He doesn’t. He won’t. And I cannot stay here, in this house, waiting for a man who will never love me.”
Grace stroked Audrey’s hair, her touch gentle and soothing. “You will not stay here,” she said firmly. “We will find a way, my dear. You are not alone in this.”
Audrey pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face filled with determination. “I thought… perhaps I could sell some of my jewelry. Buy a small townhouse somewhere.”
“No,” Grace said sharply, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I have saved enough—enough to buy a modest, comfortable home for you. I meant to keep it for emergencies, but this… this is an emergency.”
Audrey’s lips trembled, her heart swelling with gratitude and sorrow. “Mother, I cannot ask?—”
“You didn’t ask,” Grace interrupted gently. “This is what family is for. And you will always have us.”
Audrey nodded, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she clung to her mother and sister. For the first time in what felt like hours, the storm inside her began to die down, replaced by a fragile sense of peace.
And as she rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, she promised herself that she would never see Cedric again.
After this one last time.