Chapter 18
Eighteen
“ G ood evening.”
The soft lilt of Audrey’s voice pulled Cedric out of his thoughts. He turned, and for a moment, words failed him. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a deep blue velvet dress that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. The rich hue framed her pale shoulders and brought out the brilliance of her eyes, which were fixed on him with polite expectation.
Cedric swallowed hard, willing himself not to notice. She was his wife in name only—a role born of necessity, not affection. He had no right to admire her, let alone want her. His throat tightened as he forced his expression into one of neutral courtesy.
“You look… prepared for dinner,” he said, his voice low but steady. He stepped forward, offering her his arm.
Her lips quirked up faintly, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you,” she replied. She accepted his arm, her touch sending an unwelcome jolt through him. “I see you are, too.”
They began their walk toward the dining room, the soft swishing of her dress against the polished floor an almost rhythmic counterpoint to their steps.
“I half expected you not to come down,” Cedric admitted, keeping his tone casual.
Audrey glanced at him, her eyebrow rising slightly. “Why would you think such a thing? I have a duty to fulfill as the Duchess.”
Her words, so cold and detached, sparked an unexpected irritation in Cedric.
Is that all I am to her? A duty?
But hadn’t he insisted on this arrangement? Her sudden aloofness was the natural consequence of his declarations, and yet the sting of it lodged deep in his chest.
“You are nothing if not dutiful,” he said curtly, guiding her into the dining room.
The table was set impeccably, and Cedric pulled out a chair for her. As she sat down, her gaze flicked up to meet his for a brief moment.
Something twisted in his gut—a pang of longing that he pushed down immediately. Clearing his throat, he took his seat across from her, nodding to the footman to begin serving the first course.
A delicate consommé was placed before them, and Cedric stirred his spoon absently, his thoughts torn between irritation and the undeniable magnetism of the woman sitting across from him.
“We need to discuss our plans for London,” Audrey said, breaking the silence. She dipped her spoon into the soup, her movements precise and deliberate. “The events we’ll need to attend, the people we’ll need to charm. We must appear… in love.”
Cedric let out a low, humorless chuckle. “In love? You make it sound so simple.”
Audrey’s spoon paused halfway to her lips. “It is not simple,” she admitted, her voice calm but firm. “But it is necessary.”
“I don’t know how to pretend,” Cedric said darkly, setting his spoon down with a soft clink.
“You can try,” she countered, her voice sharpening. “Unless, of course, you prefer that your wife and her family remain the object of scandal.”
He looked at her, his jaw tightening. “Audrey, I—” He paused, inhaling deeply. “I apologize. That was unfair.”
She gave him a small nod, but her expression remained cool. “Apology accepted. Now, as I was saying, we’ll need to be seen together at Hyde Park. It is where everyone goes to see and be seen?—”
“Do not tell me that I am expected to drive you around in my phaeton like a lovestruck dandy?”
“Yes,” Audrey replied with a saccharine smile. “And it is impolite to interrupt someone when they are speaking.”
“You are being a princess,” he retorted, though there was no heat in his tone.
“Rightfully so,” she said with mock solemnity, lifting her spoon to her lips.
Cedric shook his head, but his lips twitched despite himself. “Continue, then. What else must I do to play the part of doting husband?”
“We’ll need to go shopping,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Cedric set his spoon down and leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “Shopping,” he repeated. “What’s next? Shall I be seen hopping from one bookshop to another with you before indulging in ice at Gunther’s?”
Audrey’s blue eyes gleamed with something akin to mischief. “Precisely,” she said, nodding. “I’m pleased to see you are beginning to understand.”
Cedric sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered, reaching for the glass before him.
As the footman cleared away their bowls and brought out the second course—a perfectly roasted partridge accompanied by a delicate cranberry glaze and buttered vegetables—Audrey continued her list of demands.
“We should also host an event,” she said, her knife and fork cutting neatly into the meat.
Cedric paused mid-bite, furrowing his brow. “Host an event? Audrey, our townhouse is not large enough to accommodate half of London.”
She looked up at him, her gaze calm but assessing. “You are predictable, Cedric. I knew you’d object.”
“That is not the point,” he scoffed, only to pause as her words sank in. “Predictable, am I?”
“Yes,” she replied, her lips twitching slightly. “You like to grumble and resist before ultimately agreeing to whatever I suggest.”
Cedric stared at her for a moment before setting his fork down with a resigned sigh. “If you wish to host all of London in our townhouse, you may do so,” he said. “Though I doubt the ballroom can fit more than a hundred guests.”
Audrey ignored his comment, her attention back on her plate.
Cedric watched her, his irritation mingling with something far softer. He realized he was arguing with her not out of any real objection, but because he missed the warmth she had shown him in fleeting moments—the way her smile had once lit up a room, or the way she had held his hand so firmly when he had shared his darkest secrets.
But now she was cold and distant, and he knew he had only himself to blame. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Distance. Detachment. A marriage in name only.
And yet, as he watched her, the candlelight catching the gold in her hair, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was slowly losing something he hadn’t even realized he wanted.
Audrey set her fork down and met his gaze, her expression steady. “Are we in agreement, then?”
“We are,” Cedric said softly, though his voice carried a note of reluctance. He picked up his glass, his fingers tightening around the stem as he fought the urge to say more.
“Good,” she replied, her tone brisk. “Then we shall proceed accordingly.”
Cedric nodded, though his chest felt uncomfortably tight.
As the footman cleared away their plates, Cedric glanced at her again, his jaw clenching at the wall that now seemed to stand between them. He told himself it was for the best—that keeping his distance would protect them both.
But even as he tried to believe it, he couldn’t help but wish for the warmth of her smile once more.
As the twelfth chime of the clock echoed through the castle, Audrey slipped out of her bedchamber. She paused in the shadows of the hallway, her breath evening out as she glanced toward the stairs. The dim light from a single wall sconce illuminated the grand staircase, but the foyer below remained cloaked in darkness.
She peered over the first landing, her heart rate quickening. The house was silent, its staff long since retired for the night. She hesitated for a moment. He had explicitly told her to avoid the west wing.
But this wasn’t about defiance, she told herself firmly. This was about understanding. How could she possibly navigate the intricacies of her husband’s tormented past if she was kept in the dark? No, this was necessary.
Still, as she stepped cautiously down the hall toward the forbidden wing, a shiver ran down her spine. The west wing had an air of abandonment, the silence here heavier, as though the very walls carried the memories. The cold draft that greeted her seemed to whisper warnings, but Audrey pressed forward.
She trembled slightly as she stopped before Cecilia’s room and turned the brass doorknob. The door creaked open, revealing a space frozen in time. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the chill. She stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her. The room was eerily still, and the dim moonlight that filtered through the window cast long shadows over the furniture.
Audrey reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small candle and a single match. With a quick strike, the flame sprang to life, illuminating the room with its gentle glow. She moved toward the writing desk near the window, her bare feet sinking into the faded rug. The diary lay open atop the desk, its pages beckoning her.
She hesitated, the gravity of the moment settling over her. Then, steeling herself, she sank into the chair and opened the diary fully, smoothing the fragile pages with care. Her eyes fell on an entry written in an elegant but hurried hand.
May 14th, 1802
I should have never let him charm me. I thought myself clever, immune to his honeyed words and practiced smiles. And yet I was wrong. I see it now, as clearly as I see my reflection in the looking glass—I am ruined. What am I to do now?
Audrey winced, her heart clenching at Cecilia’s despair. She traced the edge of the page with her fingertip, imagining the young woman who had written those words. The pain felt tangible, as if it had seeped into the very ink.
How could I have been so foolish? He has disappeared, and with him, any hope of fixing my reputation. My friends—the ones I once trusted—whisper behind my back. They shun me as though I am diseased. And worst of all, my family… my family looks at me as though I have brought shame upon us all. I cannot bear it. I cannot.
Audrey’s chest tightened. She thought of Lilianna, her sister’s pain echoing in Cecilia’s words.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, though she knew no one could hear her. The diary grew heavier in her hands as she turned to another entry.
June 3rd, 1802
I cannot escape the whispers. No matter where I go, they follow me, clinging to my skin like a stain I cannot wash away. Even Cedric avoids my gaze. He means well, I am sure, but his disappointment is harder to bear than the cruel gossip. I do not know what I will do, but I know this: I cannot remain here. I cannot remain anywhere.
Audrey paused, the ache in her heart sharp and sudden. She thought of Cedric, his reserved manner, his deep and hidden pain. How had he endured this? Watching his sister’s torment, knowing he could do little to shield her from it?
She turned the page, her pulse quickening as she read further.
June 20th, 1802
It has been weeks, and still, I have missed my courses. At first, I thought it was the stress, the humiliation. But now I am certain. I am with child. My disgrace is complete.
Audrey gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. The candlelight flickered as if it, too, had shuddered at the revelation. She stared at the words, the ink seeming to burn into her mind. Cecilia had been pregnant. She had carried the child of the man who had ruined her, only to be abandoned and scorned by Society.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the diary, her knuckles whitening. The shame, the fear, the utter hopelessness Cecilia must have felt—it was overwhelming to imagine. Audrey’s vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.
“How could they have done this to you?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How could they all have turned their backs on you?”
The candlelight flickered again, casting dancing shadows over the room. Audrey wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, forcing herself to turn to another page. She needed to know more, to understand how it had all come to this.
July 5th, 1802
The child grows, and with it my shame. I cannot bring this innocent life into a world that will hate it before it takes its first breath. I cannot. I have thought long and hard, and there is only one way to end this suffering. Perhaps then, I will find peace. Perhaps then, Cedric will forgive me.
Audrey froze, the words sinking into her like a blade. The room seemed to tilt slightly, the air growing heavier. She closed the diary carefully, her hands trembling, and placed it back on the desk. Her pulse quickened as she sat back in the chair, staring at the faintly glowing candle.
Her breath hitched as the full extent of Cecilia’s tragedy settled over her. She could picture it vividly—the shame, the isolation, the despair that had driven her sister-in-law to such a final decision. And Cedric… how had he borne the loss? How had he carried this burden, alone, for so long?
Audrey’s thoughts turned to Lilianna again. She saw her sister’s tear-streaked face, heard the tremor in her voice as she had begged for help.
I will not let this happen to her . I will not let history repeat itself.
The flame of the candle wavered once more, and Audrey quickly blew it out, plunging the room into darkness. She rose from the chair, her knees unsteady as she moved toward the door. Her hand rested on the doorknob for a moment before she glanced back into the room.
“Rest in peace, Cecilia,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I promise, I will make this right.”
Audrey did not know how, but she would try.