Page 7 of His Forsaken Duchess (Beastly Dukes #1)

Six

“ M other! Cecilia!” Cedric’s voice rang through the endless hallways as he ran, his boots pounding against the stone floor.

The dim light from the sconces on the walls flickered, casting long and distorted shadows.

He wrenched open a door, his heart racing. “Where are you?”

The room beyond was dark and empty. He turned back into the hallway, his breathing erratic, the desperation clawing at his throat.

“Cecilia!” he shouted again, his voice raw with urgency.

A soft giggle answered him, distant and fleeting.

He froze, his heart leaping in his chest. “Cecilia?”

The giggle came again, echoing faintly behind him. He turned sharply, only to find the hallway melting away. The stone walls dissolved, replaced by the open expanse of a dark field. The air was heavy with whispers, murmurs that grew louder, crueler, until they became distinct voices.

“Shameless,” hissed one.

“Ruined,” another sneered.

“A disgrace to the family,” said a third, dripping with venom.

Cedric turned, and there she was—Cecilia, kneeling in the grass, her shoulders shaking as sobs wracked her small frame. Her dress was torn and muddy, her golden hair hanging in limp strands around her face.

“Cecilia,” he whispered, rushing toward her.

But the shadowed crowd closed in on her, their faces pale and indistinct, their eyes glinting with malice. Their voices rose, their taunts slicing through the air like knives.

Cedric planted himself between Cecilia and the crowd, his arms open wide. “Stop it!” he bellowed, his voice echoing across the field. “Leave her alone!”

The shadows pressed closer, their whispers turning into jeers. Cecilia’s sobs grew louder, filling the air. Cedric turned back to her, his voice breaking.

“I’ll protect you,” he said, his hands trembling as he reached for her. “I promise?—”

But before he could touch her, she dissolved into darkness, her cries echoing in his ears.

Cedric bolted upright, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat. The dim light of the dying fire flickered, the shadows no longer menacing but still heavy with the remnants of his nightmare. He raked a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead as he tried to steady his breathing.

A faint rattling drew his attention, and his head snapped toward the window. The glass panes shook slightly, the sound mingling with the howling of the wind outside.

Cedric swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor with a thud. He rose and crossed the room in long strides, before yanking the heavy curtains aside.

The storm outside raged on, snow falling in thick, relentless sheets. The skeletal trees bent under the force of the wind, their bare branches clawing at the night. Cedric’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the chaos.

“There’ll be no leaving in this weather,” he muttered under his breath. His hands clenched briefly before he unclenched them, letting the curtain fall back into place.

The air in the room felt stifling, his skin prickling with restless energy. There was no use going back to bed—sleep would elude him now.

With a long sigh, he grabbed his nightrobe and shrugged it on, tying the sash tightly before heading to the door.

The hallway was dim, the sconces casting a faint, flickering light. As soon as he stepped out, a delicate, familiar scent hit him—light and floral, unmistakably hers .

Cedric froze, his jaw tightening as the scent wrapped around him like a soft blanket. His teeth clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips.

“Damn princess!” he muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl as he strode down the hall.

Her scent lingered, haunting him as much as his nightmare.

“This will never end!” Audrey declared as she pressed her forehead to the cold glass pane of her bedchamber window, her hands braced against the frame as she stared at the snow-covered grounds. “If the storm doesn’t stop, we shall never leave this place.”

“The north is known for its long winters, Your Grace,” Miss Smith said from her seat as she embroidered.

Audrey threw her hands up in frustration. “I know that, Miss Smith. It was not a question requiring an answer.”

Miss Smith quickly stood up, smoothing her skirts. “Perhaps a warm cup of tea would lift your spirits?”

Audrey shook her head, pushing away from the window. “No, fetch my warmest cloak instead. I am going out.”

Miss Smith’s eyes widened in alarm. “In the cold? Surely not, Your Grace!”

Audrey shrugged, her lips pressing into a tight line. “The Duke is colder than the weather, and I am convinced that a breath of fresh air will do me far more good than remaining cooped up inside.”

Miss Smith hesitated, wringing her hands. “But?—”

“Miss Smith,” Audrey interrupted, her tone firm yet not unkind. “If I remain in this castle for one more minute, I may very well perish. Now, fetch my cloak.”

With a reluctant curtsy, Miss Smith hurried to comply, leaving Audrey to pace the room. She rubbed her arms absently, her frustration mounting. This was not how this trip was meant to go. She should have been in London, standing by Lilianna, facing the ton together. Instead, she was trapped here, snowed in with a husband who had yet to agree to help her.

Her fingers traced the edge of the windowpane as she stared at the swirling snow.

What am I going to do? she wondered, her thoughts swirling as chaotically as the storm outside.

A small voice answered her question, quiet but firm. Take a walk.

When Miss Smith returned with the cloak, Audrey draped it over her shoulders and hurried downstairs determinedly. As she reached the grand foyer, Potts appeared, bowing respectfully.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice polite yet cautious.

Audrey moved toward the door, her footsteps echoing in the grand space.

Potts straightened and stepped forward. “It is very cold outside, Your Grace.”

“I am well aware, Potts,” she replied crisply, pausing only briefly before gesturing for him to open the door.

With a faint frown, he complied, pulling the heavy door open to reveal the swirling snowstorm beyond.

Audrey stepped outside and was immediately hit by an icy gust of wind that made her teeth clatter. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, her breath puffing visibly in the air. Despite the chill seeping through her boots, she pressed forward, her chin lifted.

Miss Smith hurried after her. “Your Grace, you’ll catch your death out here!”

Audrey turned to her, her tone brisk. “And so will you if you insist on following me. Go back inside, Miss Smith. That is an order.”

“But, Your Grace?—”

“Go,” Audrey repeated, her gaze firm but not unkind. “I will not have you falling ill on my account.”

Miss Smith hesitated but eventually curtsied and retreated into the warmth of the castle.

Audrey turned back to the snowy garden, her boots crunching through the fresh layer of snow. Everything was still, the pristine white landscape stretching out before her, unmarred by footprints save her own.

She hadn’t gone far when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw the Duke striding toward her, his expression as stormy as the weather. His broad shoulders were tense, his coat whipping around his legs as the wind picked up.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing out here?” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

“Taking a walk,” she replied evenly, though her breath hitched as the cold wind stung her cheeks.

“Can you not feel how cold it is?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing on her.

The wind howled, lifting her skirts slightly, and she shivered despite herself.

“I can feel it perfectly well,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “But I find it preferable to remaining in that castle with you.”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his boots sinking into the snow. “I may not be able to send you back to London yet, but I cannot have you falling ill. Go back inside.”

Audrey tilted her head, her lips curling into a defiant smile. “Why would you care? You won’t be the one to look after me if I do.”

“No,” he agreed sharply. “But the servants will, and I won’t have you adding to their burdens because of your stubbornness.”

Audrey blinked, startled by the concern in his words. For a moment, admiration rose in her chest. He did care, even if he refused to admit it outright.

“How noble of you,” she said, her tone light. “Perhaps you even care about me, just a little.”

The Duke groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “Do not try me, princess.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow, her teasing smile growing. “For a man of noble blood and ties to the Royal Family, you certainly lack refinement.”

He ignored her jab, stepping closer and looming over her. “Go back into the castle,” he said again, his voice lower, firmer.

“I see you have no talent for persuasion,” she remarked, turning on her heel to continue walking.

Before she could take another step, she was suddenly swept off her feet. A startled cry escaped her lips as she found herself hanging over the Duke’s broad shoulder, her cloak billowing in the wind.

“Cedric!” she exclaimed, her hands clutching at the back of his coat. “Put me down at once!”

“Be quiet,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument as he marched back toward the castle.

Audrey was too stunned to protest further, her face flushing as she became acutely aware of his muscular shoulder and his strong arms as he held her effortlessly. He was taller than she’d realized, and the power in his stride sent a shiver through her.

Her cheeks burned as she stammered, “I-I demand you put me down!”

“And I demand silence,” he bit out, his tone sharp as the wind.

He carried her into the castle, the warmth hitting her like a wave as the heavy door closed behind them. He strode into the drawing room, his boots clicking against the marble floor, and unceremoniously deposited her on the nearest sofa.

Audrey pushed herself upright, her heart pounding. “You are insufferable,” she declared, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her dress.

The Duke loomed over her, his expression hard. “If you try to leave the castle again, there will be consequences.”

Her eyes narrowed as she lifted her chin. “And what might those be?”

He turned sharply on his heel, his coat billowing slightly as he strode toward the door. “Defy me,” he said without looking back, his voice like steel, “and you will find out.”