Chapter 3
Three
A udrey folded her arms tightly over her chest and fixed the Duke with a glare. “Why do you look amused? You should be horrified.”
The Duke’s mouth curled into a grin, and a low laugh rumbled in his chest. “Your Highness,” he drawled, “I have seen more horrors than this.”
Audrey furrowed her brow in confusion before his words registered. “Duchess,” she corrected. “You mean Duchess .”
His grin only widened. “No, Your Highness ,” he stressed, as though savoring the title. “My castle is housing a princess, and it would be improper of me to address her otherwise.”
Her breath caught as her indignation flared. “I am not a princess!” she snapped, her tone biting.
She opened her mouth to continue, but he turned abruptly, his coat billowing slightly in the process.
“I’ll be in my study,” he said over his shoulder, his voice dismissive. “Unless the castle is on fire, I suggest you refrain from disturbing me.”
Audrey stared after him, speechless for a moment. Her arms fell to her sides, and her fingers twitched with irritation.
What a brute! Not only is he insufferable, but he also never finishes a conversation properly!
She paced the drawing room, her irritation simmering beneath her composed exterior. Her hand drifted to her neck, absentmindedly seeking to play with her necklace for comfort, only to remember that she had surrendered it to Cedric. The absence of its weight was unsettling, and the way he had demanded it back lingered uncomfortably in her mind.
Her pacing halted as she resolved to act. If she was to deal with him, she needed to understand him better. The housekeeper might prove useful.
Stepping out into the hallway, she spotted Potts near the grand staircase, his expression as neutral as ever.
“Potts,” she called, drawing his attention.
He turned and inclined his head slightly. “Your Grace.”
“Has Mrs. Potts returned yet?” she asked, her voice steady despite her impatience.
“Not yet, Your Grace,” he replied, his tone calm and measured. “She is expected later this afternoon, though the snow has delayed her return.”
Audrey nodded, though the news did little to ease her restlessness. She returned to the drawing room, sinking onto a settee with a sigh.
What am I to do with myself in this dreary castle, trapped with such a horrid man?
A burst of laughter echoed from the foyer, light and unreserved. Her curiosity piqued, she rose and peered out to see what was causing the commotion.
A short, plump woman stood near the door, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Her voice was bright and cheerful as she spoke to Potts. “Adorable little boys, John and Steven! They send their love, Mr. Potts, truly. Such darling children!”
Potts nodded politely, his expression unchanged. “Indeed,” he said simply.
Audrey tilted her head, observing the contrast between the woman’s effervescence and Potts’s unflappable demeanor.
The woman turned and caught sight of Audrey. Her eyes widened, and she quickly dropped into a curtsy. “Oh, Your Grace!” she exclaimed. “You must be the Duchess! What an honor to finally meet you.”
Audrey blinked, taken aback by the woman’s enthusiasm. “And you are?”
The woman stepped forward with a beaming smile. “Mrs. Pippa Potts, Your Grace. I run the household. It’s so lovely to have you here. Truly, this castle has been waiting far too long for its Duchess to take her rightful place.”
Audrey offered a polite nod, though the expectation in the woman’s words pressed uncomfortably against her chest. “I see. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Potts.”
Mrs. Potts clasped her hands together eagerly. “Would you allow me the honor of showing you around the castle, Your Grace? I’d be delighted to give you a tour and introduce you to the staff.”
Audrey hesitated briefly but then nodded. “Very well,” she said.
Mrs. Potts led the way, her energy filling the long hallways as she pointed out various rooms. Audrey followed, with Marie trailing quietly behind her. They passed two additional drawing rooms, each with distinct furnishings, before entering the library. Audrey paused, taking in the domed glass ceiling and the telescope positioned near the tall windows.
“This is one of the most magnificent rooms in the castle,” Mrs. Potts remarked, her tone reverent. “His Grace spends little time here, but it is a treasure.”
They continued to the conservatory, where verdant plants filled every space. Marble statues stood amidst the greenery, and a central fountain bubbled softly.
“How lush everything looks,” Mrs. Potts said with delight. “Your Grace’s presence gives us all new hope. Truly, it feels as though the castle has come alive again.”
Audrey felt a pang of guilt, the expectations growing heavier.
They think I’ve come to mend my relationship with him . But I won’t stay longer than necessary.
In the kitchens, she met the cook, a middle-aged man with a thick French accent.
“Ah, Your Grace,” he said warmly. “It is a delight to cook for you and His Grace. Such an occasion inspires me to craft my finest dishes.”
Audrey nodded politely, the suffocating atmosphere pressing down on her chest further. She smiled faintly and allowed herself to be led to the gallery. The dim light and grand portraits lent the room an air of somber elegance.
“This room holds the history of Haremore, Your Grace. Each generation is represented here, their likenesses captured for eternity,” Mrs. Potts said, her tone reverent. “And of course, the parties once held in this castle were nothing short of legendary.”
“Parties?” Audrey repeated, her interest piqued. She swept her gaze across the room. “This castle hardly seems a place for gaiety, I must confess.”
Mrs. Potts gave her a wistful smile. “It was not always so somber. The ballroom, for instance, would have been alight with splendor. The chandeliers glittering, the ladies adorned in their finest silks, the music filling every corner.” She gestured lightly toward one of the grander portraits. “The late Duke and Duchess of Haremore were known for hosting lavish parties. It is said that their midsummer ball was an event the ton would speak of for years.”
Audrey tilted her head, her gaze lingering on the painting. The couple depicted there was striking. Cedric’s father had a commanding presence with sharp features and a piercing gaze. But it was the late Duchess who held Audrey’s attention. Her beauty was undeniable, her figure regal, but her smile…
Audrey frowned slightly. There was something hollow about it, as though the cheerfulness was a mask hiding deeper sorrow.
“She was beautiful,” she remarked.
Mrs. Potts nodded, her expression softening. “She was. But beauty is not always a balm to other troubles.”
Audrey glanced at her. “What sort of troubles?”
Mrs. Potts’s eyes widened, and she stammered when she spoke. “Oh, the late Duchess also hosted delightful parties in the gardens. If everything was not covered with snow, you would have seen the hedges that form a maze.”
Audrey’s eyes narrowed slightly. Mrs. Potts was not answering her question. In fact, she was changing the subject. Nodding, she looked around the room.
Her gaze was drawn to a large painting above the fireplace. A striking young woman with golden hair wore the very ruby necklace Audrey had recently surrendered.
“That is His Grace’s sister, Lady Cecilia,” Mrs. Potts said softly.
Audrey’s breath hitched as her thoughts began to stir. His sister.
She stared at the portrait, her thoughts spinning. She vaguely recalled hearing that the Duke’s sister had passed away years ago, but the details had always been vague. She hadn’t given it much thought, until now. Her gaze lingered on the painted necklace, so strikingly similar to the one she had worn. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
He must have thought I wore it deliberately to remind him of his sister while I begged for his help.
Her fingers curled into her skirts, guilt rising unbidden.
What kind of impression did I make? After all, I only intended to request his aid, not to manipulate him or to remind him of the machinations of the very scheming members of the ton I’ve come to loathe.
She glanced at Mrs. Potts, who was standing respectfully to the side, waiting for her to finish admiring the portraits.
I have to make this right.
Audrey cleared her throat delicately. “Mrs. Potts,” she began, keeping her tone light. “May I ask… how did Lady Cecilia pass?”
Mrs. Potts’s expression shifted immediately, her bright demeanor dimming. Her eyes glistened as she pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she said softly. “I am not at liberty to discuss the matter. It was… a great tragedy.”
Audrey nodded, her voice gentle. “I understand, Mrs. Potts. Thank you.”
The housekeeper dipped her head and moved to the next section of the gallery, gesturing toward another door. “Shall we continue, Your Grace?”
“Of course,” Audrey replied, though her thoughts lingered on the portrait and the questions it raised.
As they exited the gallery and made their way down another hallway, Audrey couldn’t help but notice a dark wooden door that seemed almost foreboding in its isolation.
She was about to inquire about it when a young man emerged from a side hallway. He was tall and well-dressed, his coat neatly pressed, and his easy smile lit up the hallway. With a respectful bow, he greeted them.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Potts said, “allow me to introduce Stevenson, His Grace’s valet.”
Audrey offered a polite nod, taking in his pleasant demeanor. “Stevenson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace,” he said with a broad and eager smile. “If there is anything I can do to assist you during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask.”
Mrs. Potts smiled brightly. “Stevenson is as dependable as they come, Your Grace. We’re fortunate to have him.”
“Thank you, Stevenson. I will keep that in mind.”
With another bow, Stevenson excused himself, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.
Audrey turned back to the door, asking, “What is that?”
“That,” Mrs. Potts said quietly, “is His Grace’s study. No one interrupts him when he is there.”
Audrey smirked, a touch of sarcasm slipping into her tone. “Yes, I am quite familiar with that rule.”
Mrs. Potts’s lips twitched before she let out a soft laugh. “You will grow accustomed to His Grace’s ways in time.”
Audrey tilted her head, her thoughts briefly wandering to the Duke’s abruptness and the way he had dismissed her.
Accustomed to his ways? Not unless he learns to behave like a gentleman rather than a recluse.
Cedric stared at the ledger before him, its neatly inscribed columns and figures doing little to hold his attention. The numbers blurred together, irrelevant and dull, as the snow outside continued to fall with maddening persistence. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk, his jaw tightening as the walls of the study seemed to close in on him.
Blasted snow. Blasted castle. Blasted Duchess.
A knock on the door interrupted his brooding.
His head snapped up, and he scowled. “Enter.”
Potts stepped inside, his usually impassive face betraying a hint of nervousness. “Dinner is served, Your Grace.”
Cedric arched an eyebrow. “And? Send up a tray as usual.”
Potts cleared his throat, his discomfort palpable. “May I speak freely, Your Grace?”
Cedric leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Potts had served him for years—the man was a model of competence. That he would ask such a thing now was almost comical.
“When have you ever needed permission for that, Potts?”
The butler gave a brief nod of gratitude. “It is no business of mine, of course,” he began cautiously. “But the Duchess has made quite the journey, and the servants are eager to make her stay as comfortable as possible. They are most enthusiastic about making a good impression.”
Cedric’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “I see. And they require my presence at dinner to accomplish this?”
Potts hesitated, then offered a diplomatic reply. “Your Grace, the servants take great pride in their work, and the Duchess’s arrival has inspired them. We rarely entertain such distinguished company as it is.”
“Distinguished company,” Cedric repeated, the words dripping with sarcasm. He leaned forward, fixing Potts with a pointed stare. “And you believe my attendance will enhance their efforts?”
The butler met his gaze without flinching, though his tone grew more pointed. “Perhaps not, Your Grace. But it might show that the Duchess has not arrived at an empty castle or been abandoned entirely by her husband.”
Cedric stiffened, his jaw clenching. “The Duchess knows the terms of our arrangement,” he said curtly. “She does not require my company at dinner—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Potts said smoothly. “I simply note that she has already had quite an effect on the staff.”
“And on me, it seems,” Cedric muttered darkly. He waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve made your point, Potts. Now, leave me in peace.”
Potts bowed and left, leaving the door ajar.
Cedric stared at the half-closed door for a long moment before snapping the ledger shut. He stood up abruptly, growling under his breath. “Damn meddling servants.”
He barely made it two steps into the hallway before Stevenson appeared, as if conjured from thin air. The valet had two evening coats draped over his arm—one a deep blue, the other black.
Cedric scowled. “Do you have nothing better to do, Stevenson?”
“Not at present, Your Grace,” the valet replied smoothly. “Blue or black?”
Cedric snatched the black coat with a grunt. “Blue is too cheerful.”
Stevenson nodded solemnly, though Cedric detected the faintest twitch at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Very good, Your Grace.”
Upstairs, Stevenson’s efficiency grated on Cedric’s nerves. The man moved with practiced ease, arranging Cedric’s attire and sharpening his straight razor with deliberate precision. Cedric sat stiffly, his fingers gripping the armrests as Stevenson scraped away his stubble.
“The Duchess has been well received by the staff,” Stevenson remarked casually, his tone light. “Mrs. Potts gave her the grand tour, and Cook was so inspired that he sent footmen out into the snow to procure lobsters and mushrooms.”
“How industrious of him,” Cedric said dryly. “A royal feast for our visiting princess.”
Stevenson chuckled. “Indeed, Your Grace. Even Mr. Potts has been uncharacteristically animated. One might say he aims to become the finest butler in the realm.”
Cedric rolled his eyes. “He’s doing an admirable job, no doubt.”
Stevenson laughed, stepping back to examine his handiwork. “Dinner will be ready soon, Your Grace.”
Cedric waved him away with a sigh, his mind already racing ahead to the evening. He tugged at his cravat as if it were a noose. The dining hall, the Duchess, the inevitable small talk—it was a headache he could do without.
“Let’s hope this snow clears by morning,” he muttered to himself, rising to his feet. “The sooner the princess departs, the better.”