Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
L ady Weatherby and Lady Allenham fluttered nervously as they approached Audrey and Cedric with excessively adorned bonnets and silk dresses that screamed of ostentation rather than taste.
Audrey forced a smile, cool and polite. “Martha,” she greeted, her voice deliberately crisp. “What a surprise.”
Lady Weatherby’s lips curled into a smile that did not reach her sharp eyes. “What a delightful coincidence,” she cooed, though her calculating gaze flicked to Cedric.
“Indeed,” Lady Allenham added weakly, though she appeared to be studying her shoes more than anything else.
Cedric’s grip on Audrey’s arm shifted subtly, his stillness a steadying force at her side. She knew he would not intervene—not yet—but his presence lent her courage.
“I must admit,” Audrey said lightly, “I am surprised to see the two of you. I had thought you were quite busy.”
Lady Weatherby’s expression faltered ever so slightly. “We are busy, of course. The Season has been relentless. You must know how it is.”
“Yes,” Audrey replied, her smile unwavering. “Quite relentless. It does take considerable effort to keep track of everyone’s misfortunes, does it not?”
The barb landed, its meaning obvious.
Lady Weatherby’s smile faltered completely now, her hands tightening around the handle of her reticule. “Now, Audrey?—”
Audrey held up a hand, her expression softening only slightly, though her voice carried enough steel to slice through the facade. “Please, do not trouble yourselves with explanations. I assure you, I need none.”
Lady Allenham turned red, glancing nervously between Audrey and Lady Weatherby. “We only wished to extend?—”
“Do not bother,” Audrey interrupted. “You needn’t invite me to your ball, nor concern yourselves with my attendance. I will not be there.”
The silence that followed was sharp and brittle. Lady Weatherby’s mask cracked further, her mouth twitching as though she wished to protest but could not find the words.
Audrey’s voice softened, though her tone left no room for argument. “I have no interest in friendships built on convenience, Martha. I have learned to remember who stood with me when it mattered and who did not.”
For the briefest moment, Lady Weatherby looked as though she might respond, but Cedric chose that moment to speak.
“Is there a problem, Lady Weatherby?” His voice was deceptively mild, but the warning beneath it was definite.
Lady Weatherby blanched, her eyes darting toward him before dropping to the ground. “Of course not, Your Grace,” she murmured hurriedly. “We were just leaving.”
“Indeed, we were,” Lady Allenham squeaked, tugging on Lady Weatherby’s arm as though she might flee at any moment.
Both women muttered strained farewells and retreated with as much dignity as they could muster, their skirts swishing furiously as they went.
Audrey watched them go, satisfaction curling low in her chest. She turned to Cedric, who regarded her with a faintly quizzical expression. “Who were they?” he asked.
“Lady Weatherby and Lady Allenham,” Audrey replied with a sigh. “Once, they were my friends. We did everything together—afternoon teas, charity balls, outings.”
“Charity balls. How noble,” Cedric scoffed, his disdain evident.
Audrey frowned slightly, though her heart wasn’t truly in it. “They were not always so unkind,” she admitted quietly. “Or perhaps I simply did not notice it before.”
“And their opinions matter now?” Cedric asked, his gaze sharp.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I suppose they do not.”
“Good,” he replied simply, as though that settled the matter.
As they resumed walking, however, Audrey was troubled by the encounter. It was strange how the sting of old friendships could linger even when one swore they no longer mattered.
“Where are we going now?” Cedric asked suddenly, interrupting her reverie.
Audrey glanced up at him, furrowing her brow slightly. “The hat shop, as I said earlier.”
Cedric shook his head, steering her gently in the opposite direction. “Not yet. We have another stop.”
Audrey tilted her head, puzzled. “What are you doing?”
“You need a new dress,” he said simply, as though the matter had already been decided.
“A dress?” Audrey repeated, startled. “We have already spent far too much?—”
“And yet we have not spent enough,” he interrupted, his tone dry. “After today’s performance, it seems prudent to remind the ton exactly whose Duchess you are.”
Audrey blinked up at him, her heart fluttering at his words. “Is that so?”
“It is,” he replied simply, as though they were discussing nothing more consequential than the weather. “Now, come along.”
The shop Cedric led her to was her favorite—a small but exquisite establishment that catered to only the wealthiest of clients. Audrey’s eyes widened as they stepped inside, the smell of freshly pressed muslin and polished wood filling her senses.
“Cedric,” she said, her voice soft with awe. “You brought me here?”
He glanced at her sideways, the faintest of smirks curving his lips. “Are you not pleased?”
“Pleased?” she repeated breathlessly. “This shop is…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she took in the rows of fabrics, the mannequins draped in dresses of rich silks and velvets. “It is extravagant.”
“Good.” He gestured toward the seamstress, who was already approaching them with an eager smile. “I expect you to leave here with something to wear.”
Audrey turned to him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You needn’t do this.”
“Consider it a matter of pride,” he replied coolly, though something in his eyes softened when they met hers. “Nothing more.”
Her excitement dimmed slightly at his words, though she forced a smile and turned to the seamstress, who was waiting expectantly. “Very well,” she said, lifting her chin. “Let us get to work.”
Audrey was soon swept up in a whirlwind of fabrics and fittings, the seamstress clucking her tongue approvingly as she pinned silk and lace to Audrey’s frame. At some point, Cedric stepped back, his expression unreadable as he observed her quietly from a distance.
“Does this suit me?” Audrey asked once, turning to face him in a dress of pale blue silk.
Cedric’s dark gaze swept over her, his lips parting slightly before he blinked and cleared his throat. “It will do.”
Audrey’s cheeks flushed, though she turned away before he could see.
As the seamstress busied herself with measurements and notes, Cedric approached her quietly. “I must leave,” he said, his voice low.
Audrey looked up, startled. “Leave?”
“There is business I need to attend to,” he said, his tone brisk. “I trust you will manage without me.”
Audrey straightened, her smile faltering slightly. “Of course, I will,” she said softly.
He hesitated for a moment longer, as though he might say something more, but then he nodded. “Good.”
And just like that, he was gone, the sound of the bell over the door echoing faintly in his wake. Audrey stood still for a moment, her fingers absently brushing the folds of her dress. Excitement warred with disappointment in her chest.
“Is this to your liking, Your Grace?” the seamstress asked, drawing her back to the present.
Audrey forced a smile, though her heart felt inexplicably heavy. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It is perfect.”
But as she stood there, surrounded by silks and ribbons, she could not help but think of Cedric’s words.
“… pride, nothing more…”
And yet why had it felt like more?