Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
A udrey stood before the gilded mirror in her bedchamber, studying her reflection with critical eyes. The soft candlelight danced across the silk of her dress—an icy blue that shimmered like a winter morning. It was a deliberate choice, one that struck a careful balance between understated elegance and confident poise.
The dress’s square neckline flattered her shoulders, while the delicate embroidery at the hem whispered refinement, not ostentation. Audrey allowed herself a small smile.
Her hair had been arranged into an elaborate but controlled cascade of curls, pinned with tiny pearls that caught the light. It was a look meant to make an impression—not only for herself but for Lilianna.
If the Duchess of Haremore appears unassailable, then so will her family.
And yet Cedric was nowhere to be seen.
The thought crept into her mind, souring her mood. She glanced toward the clock on the mantel, irritation niggling at her.
Where is he?
She had half a mind to send a note to wherever his calendar claimed he was—White’s, perhaps, or some far-flung place he decided to retreat to. For a man who could command the attention of an entire room by simply walking into it, he was entirely too skilled at making himself absent when it suited him.
Audrey turned away from the mirror with an annoyed sigh, putting on her gloves with sharp, precise movements. She was reaching for her shawl when a sound from below drifted to her ears—boots against marble, deliberate and measured. Her breath caught as she turned sharply toward the door.
She left her bedchamber and hurried to the stairs. Then, she froze.
At the foot of the grand staircase stood Cedric. He wore deep navy evening attire, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and tall frame, with a crisp white cravat that only accentuated the strong column of his throat. His dark hair was tousled just enough to seem disheveled, though Audrey suspected that was by design. He looked far too handsome for his own good—especially hers.
For one ridiculous, breathless moment, Audrey could only stare.
Then, as though sensing her presence, Cedric looked up. His gaze found hers immediately, and for a beat, the world seemed to hold its breath.
“You’re here,” she managed, cursing the way her voice cracked.
His lips quirked up, half amusement, half something softer. “Where else would I be?”
“Anywhere, knowing you,” she muttered, descending the stairs with careful, measured steps, grateful for having the banister to steady herself.
When she reached the bottom step, he was there, waiting. Audrey swallowed hard as his eyes swept over her once, lingering for barely a heartbeat before rising to meet hers.
“You look lovely,” he said, his voice low and sincere.
Her heart gave an embarrassing flutter, and she tightened her grip on her gloves. “It’s just a dress, Cedric.”
“Yes, but you chose it,” he replied easily, his gaze holding hers with a quiet intensity that left her feeling too exposed. “And that makes it far more deliberate. Tell me, what’s your strategy tonight?”
Audrey blinked, confused. “Strategy?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her in a way that made heat rise to her cheeks. “The color softens you without diminishing your presence. The pearls are elegant, but they draw attention to your face, not your jewelry. Every detail says something, and I doubt any of it was accidental.”
Audrey’s lips parted in surprise. She stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. “I had no idea you were so… observant.”
Cedric’s smile was small but unmistakably wicked as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You underestimate me, Duchess.”
Before Audrey could formulate a proper reply—or scold her heart for skipping a beat—he straightened, offering her his arm. “Come. We cannot keep your mother and sister waiting.”
She hesitated for a moment longer, half tempted to say something sharp just to regain the upper hand. But then he winked— winked! —and any remaining wit she might have mustered evaporated like mist.
“Very well,” she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. His warmth and strength, so tangible beneath her gloved hand, sent an odd shiver up her spine. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Audrey had expected a hum of whispers when their names were announced in the ballroom. She had braced herself for it, had prepared for it with every carefully planned detail of her dress, every strategic curl in her hair. But still, the silence hit her like a sudden wind.
Her gloved fingers tightened around Cedric’s arm as they descended the grand staircase, her mother and Lilianna trailing just behind. From her vantage point, Audrey could see the sea of faces turned toward them—some curious, some skeptical, and a few openly awed.
It was not a scandal they saw. Not tonight.
Cedric’s presence comforted her. He moved with the easy confidence of a man who was utterly unconcerned with the opinions of others, and Audrey found herself drawing strength from him. The whispers began, soft and scattered, but there was no sting in them. Instead, admiration threaded through the quiet hum.
The Duke and Duchess of Haremore.
At the bottom of the stairs, they were met by their hosts, Lord and Lady Heathersfield. The older couple beamed at them, their warmth radiating like sunshine.
“Your Grace,” Lady Heathersfield said with a delighted smile, “you look positively radiant. And Lilianna—my, what a vision!”
Lilianna blushed under the praise, but Lady Heathersfield leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. “Take no notice of the gossips, my dear. Scandals are terribly overstated. Why, my husband and I would never have married if we hadn’t been caught in one.”
Lord Heathersfield chuckled, his cravat quivering against his chest. “It’s true. The best thing that ever happened to me.”
Lilianna’s face softened into a genuine smile, and Audrey’s heart swelled.
“Thank you,” Audrey said warmly, exchanging a glance with her sister before squeezing Cedric’s arm in silent gratitude.
As they moved further into the ballroom, Lilianna was quickly spotted by her friends, Miss Sarah Abbot and Lady Margaret McLeod. The young women descended upon her with wide smiles and affectionate greetings, their presence a balm to any lingering insecurity.
Audrey stepped back, her heart soaring as she watched her sister laughing softly, her shoulders no longer weighed down with shame.
This is how it should be.
Before she could turn to Cedric, a familiar voice rang out from the edge of the ballroom.
“Lady Lilianna!”
Lord Belleville approached with easy grace, a smile on his handsome face and an undeniable sparkle in his eyes. He was dressed impeccably in midnight blue, his cravat tied in a fashion that was just shy of fashionable, which somehow made him all the more dashing.
He bowed low before Lilianna, who looked startled but pleased by his sudden appearance.
“Forgive me for intruding so boldly,” he said with a grin, straightening. “But I must insist on claiming the first dance before any other scoundrel manages to do so.”
Lilianna’s eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “I-I would be honored, My Lord.”
Belleville extended his hand. “Then allow me to escort you, Lady Lilianna.”
Audrey’s heart swelled with gratitude as she watched her sister take his hand.
Lilianna looked beautiful—more than that, she looked hopeful . Belleville led her toward the center of the ballroom with an easy confidence that seemed to wrap around her like a protective shield. The sight of her smiling—truly smiling—filled Audrey with relief.
“Belleville,” Cedric murmured drily, though Audrey thought she caught the faintest hint of approval. “Ever the opportunist.”
“Perhaps,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on her sister. “But tonight, I am glad for it.”
She turned to tell Cedric as much, but the words died on her lips.
He stood slightly back, half of his face cloaked in shadow as he observed Lilianna and Belleville begin the first steps of the dance. His posture was straight, his expression carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes—something broken and haunted—that made Audrey’s chest tighten.
“Cedric,” she said softly, stepping closer to him.
He blinked, as though shaking off whatever memory had gripped him, and looked down at her. The mask returned—an easy, unreadable smile that never touched his eyes. “You’ve done well, Audrey. Your sister looks happy.”
“Because of you,” she said before she could stop herself.
Cedric’s gaze flickered, the faintest trace of surprise crossing his features. “Hardly.”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Audrey murmured, her voice low. “What your presence means—to me, to Lilianna, to all of us. We could not have done this without you.”
For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze holding hers with a quiet intensity that sent warmth through her chest. Then, so softly that she almost didn’t hear it, he said, “It should not have been necessary.”
Audrey opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the music swelled, and Lilianna’s laughter rang out across the ballroom once more. Cedric turned his attention toward the sound, and Audrey saw it again—that flicker of grief, of guilt, so raw and so carefully hidden.
What happened to you, Cedric?
With deliberate boldness, she nudged his elbow with her own. “Would you care to dance, Cedric?”
Cedric blinked, clearly startled, and turned to her with a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Dance?” He sounded as though she’d suggested he fly.
“Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “The quadrille. You do remember how to dance it, I hope?”
His smile widened, though his gaze remained skeptical. “I fear you are overestimating my abilities, Audrey. It has been a number of years.”
Audrey arched an eyebrow, determined not to let him wriggle free of her invitation. “Oh, come now, Cedric. Are you telling me the Duke of Haremore cannot manage a simple quadrille?”
“I am merely warning you,” he replied, though his lips twitched in amusement, “that you may find me woefully out of practice.”
She placed a gloved hand on his forearm, her fingers tightening just slightly. “Then let us remedy that. You wouldn’t wish to embarrass yourself at some future event, would you?”
His dark gaze met hers, something in them softening, and her breath caught for a moment. Then, with a low chuckle, Cedric offered her his hand. “Far be it from me to turn down such a determined invitation.”
Audrey slid her hand into his, pleased by how steady hers felt despite the flutter in her chest. Without another word, Cedric guided her toward the dance floor, where couples were already taking their places.
“You may regret this,” he murmured as he stepped into position, his gloved hand settling lightly on her waist.
“Not likely,” she countered with a smirk. “I happen to have very little sympathy for self-doubt, particularly when it’s unwarranted.”
The music began, and they moved. Cedric’s steps were careful at first, his attention clearly focused on not misstepping. Audrey watched him with barely contained amusement—he was far more capable than he gave himself credit for. While he lacked the natural ease of some gentlemen, there was a strength and surety in the way he led her that surprised her.
“Not so terrible, are you?” she teased as they turned, his hand steadying her effortlessly.
“Shocking, I know,” he replied dryly, though there was warmth in his voice.
“You must have had plenty of practice in your younger days,” she said, her tone light. “Surely you danced with many debutantes?”
Cedric raised an eyebrow. “And you think I would have made an effort?”
“Certainly not,” she retorted. “But there must have been young ladies desperate to drag you to the dance floor.”
He looked down at her with mock solemnity. “I assure you, Audrey, I was very good at avoiding such traps.”
“Then how, pray tell, do you dance so well now?” she asked, grinning.
He paused briefly, as though considering her question. “Perhaps,” he said finally, his gaze holding hers, “I simply needed the right partner.”
Audrey’s breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, they seemed to move in perfect harmony, the music fading into the background as his words hung between them. Then, she shook her head, forcing a laugh to mask her inexplicable reaction.
“Well, it certainly isn’t because of experience. I, on the other hand, danced often during the Seasons.”
Cedric furrowed his brow slightly. “Did you?”
“Of course,” Audrey replied, unable to suppress her smile. “Unlike you, I found the Seasons rather enjoyable. There were plenty of dance partners.”
Something flashed in his eyes—quick and sharp, though his voice remained casual. “Plenty of dance partners…”
Audrey tilted her head, delighting in the faint possessiveness she detected. “Are you jealous, Cedric?”
He scoffed softly, though his hand tightened ever so slightly on her waist. “Jealous? Hardly.”
“I think you are,” she said lightly, lifting her chin. “Were you imagining all those poor gentlemen dancing with me?”
He glanced down at her, his gaze darkening in a way that sent heat to her cheeks. “Imagining it, no. Disapproving of it? Absolutely.”
Audrey couldn’t help it—she laughed. “You are jealous!”
“I am merely…” Cedric hesitated, as though searching for the right word. “Protective.”
“Of your dancing abilities?”
“Of you,” he corrected, his voice low.
The words sent a thrill down her spine, leaving her momentarily speechless. She looked up at him, searching his face for some sign of humor, but there was none. Just a steady, unwavering focus that made her heart stutter.
When did this happen? When did her husband—so stoic, so infuriatingly impossible—begin to unsettle her so completely?
Before she could answer, the music swelled to its crescendo, and Cedric guided her into the closing steps with an elegance that belied his earlier protests. When the last note faded, he released her, bowing slightly.
Audrey curtsied, her lips twitching in amusement. “Not out of practice at all, I see.”
His smile was faint but undeniably smug. “I do believe I had an excellent partner.”
Audrey was about to step away, still smiling as she adjusted her gloves, when the opening strains of a waltz floated through the ballroom. Her heart rate quickened as she turned back to Cedric, only to find him watching her intently.
“Another dance?” he asked.
Audrey blinked. “The waltz?”
“Yes.” He held out his hand to her, his gaze unwavering.
Audrey hesitated, her pulse fluttering. “Cedric, we’ve already danced. Twice would be scandalous.”
“Let it be scandalous, then,” he replied, his voice quiet but firm. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”