Page 36 of His Forsaken Duchess (Beastly Dukes #1)

Thirty-Five

“ C edric?”

He didn’t answer.

His heart pounded in his chest as his gaze remained fixed on the man standing just beyond the hedge. The figure turned slightly, his profile coming into view, and everything fell into place with a sickening certainty.

Lord Rashford.

Memories rose like bile in Cedric’s throat. He had seen his sister dance with him during her Season, never giving Cedric cause to question his intentions. Not until it was too late. Not until now.

“Cedric, what is it?” Audrey pressed, her hand tightening around his arm.

He swallowed thickly, his voice low and tight. “That’s Rashford.”

Audrey followed his gaze, her eyebrows drawing together. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Cedric replied icily.

He stared hard at Rashford, who was lingering on the garden path with the young lady—no more than eighteen by the look of her ivory gown. The girl smiled up at him, clearly unaware of the danger at her side.

The rage Cedric had been holding back for years burned hot in his veins. His hands curled into fists as he took a step forward.

“Cedric, wait,” Audrey said sharply, but he barely heard her.

The gravel crunched loudly beneath his boots as he advanced on them, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. Rashford turned his head at the sound, his expression shifting from smug amusement to one of vague recognition.

“Did you ruin Lady Cecilia Hall?” Cedric demanded, his voice low but vibrating with fury.

There it was, the flicker of recognition. It flashed in Rashford’s eyes before he masked it with false confusion. But Cedric saw enough. He knew .

Rashford furrowed his brow dramatically. “I beg your pardon? I haven’t the slightest idea?—”

“Do not lie to me,” Cedric cut in, his voice sharp as a blade.

The young lady beside Rashford looked between them, her face pale with uncertainty.

Cedric shifted his gaze to her briefly. “Leave us, Miss, if you know what’s good for you.”

The girl started at his tone, glancing helplessly at Rashford, who smiled tightly. “Now, now, there’s no need?—”

“Go.” Cedric’s voice was flat, brooking no argument.

The girl hesitated for a moment before curtsying quickly and hurrying back toward the terrace. Once she was gone, Cedric turned his full attention to Rashford, who had straightened to his full height, his smile returning, sharper now.

“I ask you again,” Cedric said coldly, stepping closer. “Did you ruin Lady Cecilia Hall?”

“Ruin?” Rashford repeated, sounding incredulous. “I did nothing of the sort.”

Cedric ground his teeth together. “Do not play games with me. I remember you—hovering near her, watching her, dancing with her. You think I would forget?”

“I think you’ve gone mad,” Rashford replied smoothly, his smile smug. “Whoever this Lady Cecilia is, I assure you I bear no responsibility for whatever befell her.”

Cedric’s vision darkened at the edges, his pulse roaring in his ears. “Then what of Lady Lilianna Winslow?”

Rashford stilled just slightly, his expression flickering, but he recovered quickly. “Lady Lilianna? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“You sent her a note,” Audrey said firmly, stepping forward. Her voice was calm, but Cedric could hear the edge of anger beneath it. “Asking her to meet you. Do not deny it.”

Rashford turned to her, his smile growing wider, though it did not reach his eyes. “Ah, the Duchess of Haremore, isn’t it? Such a lovely thing you are, Your Grace. A shame you have found yourself married to?—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Cedric hissed, his voice like ice.

Rashford raised his hands mockingly. “I meant no offense. As for Lady Lilianna, I did send her a note. I intend to ask for her hand in marriage. That is no crime, is it?”

Cedric scoffed, his temper fraying further. “If you intended to ask for her hand, you would have approached her father, not sent her secret missives like a scoundrel.”

Rashford spread his hands, shrugging lightly. “Perhaps my methods were unorthodox. But who are you to judge? What is it to you?”

Cedric’s vision narrowed, the edges of his anger sharpening like glass. “What is it to me? I know your kind, Rashford. You ruin young women without a care for the consequences. You smile, you charm, and then you discard them as though they’re nothing more than sport.”

Rashford’s smile turned mocking. “You speak as though you intend to stop me.”

“I do,” Cedric said, his voice deadly calm.

Rashford laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. “And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that?”

Cedric’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles aching. The need to act, to bring this matter to an end once and for all, burned in his chest like wildfire.

“Cedric,” Audrey said softly, her voice trembling, but he couldn’t look at her.

“Rashford,” Cedric said, his voice like steel, “I challenge you to a duel.”

Audrey gasped behind him. “Cedric, no!”

Rashford blinked, though he recovered quickly. “A duel?” He let out a low, derisive chuckle. “I thought we left barbaric notions like that in the last century.”

“Then you are free to decline,” Cedric replied coldly. “But everyone will know you for the coward you are.”

Rashford’s smile faltered just slightly, and Cedric knew he had him. Men like Rashford—vain, arrogant, small-minded—could not afford to let their reputations crumble.

“Very well,” Rashford said, his gaze hardening. “Green Park. At dawn.”

Cedric inclined his head. “At dawn.”

Audrey tugged at his arm then, her voice breaking. “Cedric, please. You don’t have to do this.”

He turned to look at her—finally—and the heartbreak in her expression nearly undid him.

Her hands gripped his sleeve tightly, her eyes pleading. “This will solve nothing. Please. ”

But Cedric shook his head. “This is the only way.”

He turned back toward the house, the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he strode toward the ballroom doors. Audrey followed him, calling out his name, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

The moment he stepped into the light and noise of the ballroom, he scanned the crowd until he found Belleville. The man was standing near the far wall, speaking with Lilianna, whose expression was bright with laughter.

Cedric strode toward them, ignoring the curious glances thrown his way. Belleville looked up as he approached, his easy smile slipping into concern.

“Belleville,” Cedric said tersely, “I need you.”

Belleville furrowed his brow. “What is it?”

“We have a duel. Green Park, at dawn.”

“A duel?” Belleville’s voice dropped. “Haremore, are you mad?”

Cedric didn’t answer. He turned on his heel and left the ballroom without another word.

Audrey practically leaped out of the carriage the moment it pulled to a stop in front of Haremore House, the frigid night air biting through her thin evening cloak. She had left the ball moments after Cedric stormed off, dragging her mother and Lilianna, too shaken to explain herself but too determined to follow him.

“Is the Duke here?” she asked breathlessly as Astor opened the door.

Astor inclined his head, his expression betraying the slightest flicker of concern. “His Grace returned not long ago, Your Grace. He is in his study.”

Audrey wasted no time. She lifted her skirts just enough so as not to trip and strode toward the study, the sound of her footsteps echoing sharply through the otherwise silent hall. Her chest was tight, the words she needed to say already burning on her tongue, yet she couldn’t shake the chill that crept beneath her skin—an unsettling feeling that this would not end well.

The door to the study loomed ahead of her, slightly ajar, a thin bolt of light spilling into the hallway. She pushed it open without knocking and found her husband there.

He stood by the fireplace, one hand braced against the mantel, staring into the flames as though they held answers he desperately sought. His coat had been removed, his cravat loosened, and his sleeves pushed up as though he’d discarded his title along with his finery. His dark hair fell messily over his brow, and his posture was a taut line of frustration.

“Cedric,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the silence.

His head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Audrey,” he replied, though her name sounded more like an exhale than a greeting. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Audrey strode into the room, closing the door firmly behind her. “Don’t you dare dismiss me.” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain steady. “Cedric, you cannot do this. Duels are illegal. If you kill him, you could be arrested, tried?—”

“Then I’ll face it,” he bit out, pushing away from the mantel to face her. “Whatever the consequences, I’ll bear them.”

Audrey shook her head vehemently, stepping closer to him. “And if you don’t kill him? If he kills you ? What then, Cedric? Have you considered that?”

He looked at her then—truly looked at her—and for the briefest moment, she saw the torment in his gaze. Grief, guilt, and the anger that had been festering inside him for years.

“This is not just about Cecilia,” he said, his voice low, rough. “This is about stopping him. Men like Rashford don’t stop. They don’t change. And if I do nothing—if I let this go—then how many more women will he ruin? How many more families will be shattered?”

“And how many people will lose you, Cedric?” Audrey’s voice cracked, her composure slipping as she stepped forward. “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?”

“This isn’t about her honor!” Cedric’s voice rose suddenly, his words sharp and furious as he took a step toward her. “It’s about mine!”

Audrey flinched, but she refused to back down, lifting her chin as she met his stormy gaze head-on.

“Your honor?” she repeated, incredulous. “You call this honorable? Cedric, this is madness! There must be another way—there is another way. For God’s sake, think of the consequences?—”

“Is that what you care about?” he shot back, his voice like ice. “The consequences? The scandal? Your precious appearances?”

The words struck her like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of her. Audrey froze, staring at him, disbelief and hurt blooming across her face. “Is that what you think of me?” she whispered. “After everything? After what you’ve seen me endure? You think I care about appearances ?”

Cedric hesitated, his expression flickering with something that might have been regret, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “You don’t understand, Audrey. This isn’t your choice to make. It isn’t your concern.”

Audrey’s hands trembled at her sides, and she forced herself to still them, to square her shoulders. “Not my concern?” she repeated slowly, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “Is that all I am to you? A stranger? A woman you are saddled with through duty and nothing more?”

Cedric turned his back to her, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders tense with frustration. “This is not about you . ”

“But it is,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “Don’t you see? It is about me—about all of us. About Cecilia. About Lilianna. About you. You cannot change what happened to your sister, but you can stop this cycle of grief before it destroys you.”

He did not respond, his silence a wall between them.

Audrey’s heart fractured at the sight of him—so tormented, so unreachable—and a hollow ache settled in her chest. She had thought they had grown closer, that he saw her for who she was, that perhaps he trusted her. But now… now she saw the truth.

This was the reason Cecilia had refused to reveal the identity of the man who had ruined her. It was to protect Cedric from himself.

“Very well,” Audrey said quietly, a coldness that felt foreign and bitter creeping into her tone.

Cedric turned then, his dark gaze snapping to hers. For the first time since she had entered the room, he seemed to sense the shift in her, the way her expression had hardened.

She stood tall, her spine straight, her chin lifted as she donned the very mask she had worn for years—before him, before their marriage. It was a shield she hadn’t realized she no longer needed until this moment.

“You are right,” she continued, her voice steady now, devoid of the desperation that had colored it before. “This is not my choice. This is your life, Cedric, and I cannot stop you from throwing it away.”

“Audrey—”

She held up a gloved hand, cutting him off. “I hope it brings you peace, Cedric, though I doubt it will.” Her lips quirked up faintly, but there was no warmth in her smile. “Goodbye, Duke.”