Page 8 of His Forsaken Duchess (Beastly Dukes #1)

Seven

W hat happened to you?

Audrey stared up at the portrait of Lady Cecilia in the dimly lit gallery. The clock in the foyer chimed, each strike echoing through the quiet halls until it reached twelve. Midnight.

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated Cecilia’s delicate features—the same high cheekbones as her brother’s, the same dark hair, but her hazel eyes were vibrant, full of life, a stark contrast to the Duke’s unreadable brown ones.

Audrey tilted her head, studying the young woman’s serene expression.

Cecilia’s beauty seemed untouched by the sorrow Audrey had sensed in the castle. What was her story?

Audrey’s gaze shifted to a larger portrait beside Cecilia’s, depicting the late Duke and Duchess of Haremore with their two children. Even there, the younger version of her husband had a closed, solemn expression, while Cecilia’s smile seemed eager to win the approval of whoever painted her.

“Haremore Castle has its mysteries,” Audrey murmured, taking a step back to survey the gallery. “And while I am stuck here, I may as well uncover them.”

Her slippers barely made a sound as she left the gallery and entered the foyer. She paused at the foot of the grand staircase, her eyes instinctively flicking up. Her gaze turned left, toward the west wing—the forbidden part of the castle. She hesitated, her curiosity prickling like a whisper urging her forward.

One step. Then another. She ascended slowly, her hand trailing along the banister until she reached the landing. Turning right, she looked toward the staircase leading to the west wing. The hallway ahead was darker than the rest of the castle, a quiet tension in its shadowy depths. Her foot hovered over the first step when a voice behind her broke the silence.

“Ahem!”

Audrey jumped, her heart racing as she turned sharply to find Mrs. Potts standing at the bottom of the stairs. The housekeeper’s kindly but firm expression gave her pause.

“His Grace,” Mrs. Potts said gently, “has made it very clear that no one is to enter the west wing.”

Audrey’s pulse slowed as she gave the housekeeper a polite smile. “What is in the west wing, Mrs. Potts?”

“Nothing, Your Grace,” Mrs. Potts replied smoothly. “Only His Grace resides there, and he does not wish to be disturbed.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “I see.”

With a curtsy, Mrs. Potts added, “Good night, Your Grace.”

“Good night,” Audrey murmured, her curiosity far from satisfied.

She turned away from the west wing, descending the staircase and making her way toward the library instead. If she couldn’t uncover the secrets of the west wing, she might as well explore the castle’s other treasures.

As she entered the library, the scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes enveloped her. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the towering shelves. She stopped short when she spotted a familiar figure in an armchair by the fire.

The Duke glanced up from his book, his dark eyes locking onto hers. His gaze swept over her, and she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. He looked entirely at ease, one leg crossed over the other, but there was a quiet intensity in his expression that unsettled her.

“Duke,” she said, recovering quickly. “I must admit, I’m surprised to find you here. Reading.”

He arched an eyebrow, closing the book slightly. “Why would that surprise you? Do you think me an uneducated beast?”

Audrey laughed softly as she stepped further into the room, her fingers grazing the spines of the books on a nearby shelf. “Far from it. Though you might benefit from lessons in manners.”

He set the book down on the side table and stood up, his height and presence commanding as he approached her. “Have you taken it upon yourself to teach me manners?” he asked.

“I am considering it,” Audrey replied lightly, glancing up at him. “Though I hesitate. I do not know what sort of student you are. It wouldn’t do for you to pick me up and dump me somewhere unknown the moment I displease you.”

He smirked, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “I did not dump you somewhere unknown.”

Audrey shrugged, stepping around him to inspect another shelf. “You still picked me up as though I were a child.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You loved it.”

Audrey spun around to face him, her cheeks blazing. “I-I most certainly did not!”

“Didn’t you?” he asked, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “Your mouth says one thing, Duchess, but your cheeks…” His eyes flicked down briefly before returning to her eyes. “And your eyes tell me another story entirely.”

Her heart raced, and she took an involuntary step back, only to feel the solid wood of the bookshelf behind her. She was trapped, his tall figure looming over her, the heat of his proximity making her pulse quicken.

For a moment, his eyes softened, and her breath caught as he leaned slightly closer.

Then, just as quickly, he straightened, stepping back with a practiced detachment. “Why are you awake at this hour, Duchess?” he asked, his tone brisk.

Audrey blinked, her thoughts scattering. “I… I couldn’t sleep,” she stammered. “The castle is cold and far too quiet.”

He folded his arms, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Would you prefer I host a grand ball in your honor? Perhaps invite the ton to keep you entertained?”

She tilted her head, recovering some of her composure. “That would be most charming.”

Her tone was sweetly mocking, and she caught the faintest twitch of his lips before he turned back to his chair.

Audrey exhaled slowly, moving toward a nearby shelf. She scanned the titles, selecting Reflections on the Nature of Man and Morality before settling into a sofa adjacent to the Duke’s chair.

He glanced at her, his eyebrow rising slightly as he noticed her choice. “I admit, I am surprised,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to read anything beyond fashionable novels.”

Audrey lifted her chin, a playful glint in her eyes. “And I didn’t expect the Duke of Haremore to read The Philosophy of Nations, ” she countered, before quoting a line directly from the book he held. “‘A ruler must first govern himself before he can govern others.’”

Cedric’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pressing together as though he were suppressing a smile.

“Impressive,” he noted. “Though I imagine you’ve taken liberties with the context.”

“Not at all,” Audrey replied breezily. “But if you’d like, we can discuss the application of such principles to your own… governance.”

The fire crackled as he leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes studying her with a new intensity.

“Very well,” he said, a challenge in his voice. “Let us see how well your philosophy holds up under scrutiny. I govern my castle well, and my subjects are happy.”

“I should determine their happiness, not you.”

His eyes flashed, and she smiled. She leaned back into the sofa, letting her fingers idly flip through the pages of her book. The Duke’s sharp gaze was fixed on her, and she felt his attention like the warmth of the fire. She tried to concentrate on the words but failed.

Looking up from the text, Audrey caught him still watching her. A playful smile curved her lips, and she cocked her head. “Do you find me beautiful, Duke?”

The question hung in the air. His frown deepened, and her stomach twisted as uncertainty crept in. She had meant it as a jest, a lighthearted question to break the silence, but his expression was unreadable.

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Why did you change?” he asked, his voice low and even.

Audrey blinked, caught off guard. “Change?”

“Yes.” He leaned back again, his dark eyes sharp. “When I first met you, you cared little for manners or propriety. You said what’s on your mind, with no regard for the consequences.”

Audrey laughed softly, brushing her fingers against the pages of her book. “That was three years ago. I was a girl back then.”

“And now you are a?—”

“A woman,” she supplied quickly.

“A princess,” he said drily.

Audrey straightened, lifting her chin. “A duchess,” she corrected politely, her voice soft but firm.

His lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Exactly my point,” he said, gesturing toward her. “The woman before me is not the girl I met. You have become… something else entirely.”

Her back stiffened, but she managed a calm reply. “One must uphold what is expected of them, Duke.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and she knew he had caught the subtle meaning behind her words. There was a flicker of understanding in his expression before he spoke again.

“Tell me, then. What is the nature of this scandal that has brought you here to seek my help? Why isn’t your father dealing with the gentleman in question? A duel would be the traditional course of action.”

Audrey sighed, closing the book in her lap as her thoughts turned to Lilianna. “It is not so simple,” she began. “My sister sent him letters, that is all. Someone intercepted them, and they found their way to the gossip sheets. Unsavory things were said about her—things no young lady should endure.”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened, the firelight accentuating the sharp angles of his face. “Who is the gentleman?”

“The Viscount Rashford,” she replied. “He is engaged, as you likely know.”

The Duke sat back, his gaze piercing. “His fiancée was betrothed to him at birth, much like our arrangement. Such contracts are difficult to break.”

Audrey’s chest tightened as she thought of her sister’s tearful letters. “I am not asking for the impossible. I want my sister to be happy. And I want her reputation restored before my father marries her off to… to someone wholly unsuitable.”

The Duke raised an eyebrow, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “Romance and happiness are indulgences, not realities. You would do well to advise your sister to stop dreaming of such things.”

Audrey’s hands tightened around the edges of her book. “I agree, romance is a dangerous illusion. But that does not mean she should marry just anyone.”

“And what makes you think Rashford is right for her?” His voice was calm, yet the challenge in it was obvious.

Audrey hesitated before answering. “I don’t know if he is. That isn’t the battle I’m fighting. My quarrel is with the ton and my father, who might marry her off to some old duke in the farthest, loneliest corner of England.”

His dark laugh came again, quieter this time but no less biting. “Have a little more faith in your father, Duchess. He secured an excellent match for you, after all.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she sat up straighter. “He secured me a decent match,” she corrected.

The Duke tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Decent?” he repeated. “What are the flaws, then, that render me ‘decent’?”

Audrey’s lips parted, but her voice was measured when she replied. “A duchess must never tell a duke his flaws.”

He scoffed, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A walking contradiction, aren’t you? You’ve just made me aware that I have flaws, yet now you claim you cannot tell me what they are.”

Her smile softened as she replied, “Everyone has flaws.”

He raised an eyebrow at her evasive answer. “Then tell me, Duchess. Will you continue to speak in riddles, or will you tell me plainly what is it you want?”

Audrey met his gaze directly, her voice steady. “Are you going to help me? I need to know, and you were not entirely clear.”

The room fell silent, except for the soft crackling of the fire. The Duke studied her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, rising to his feet, he glanced down at her.

“I will let you know tomorrow,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Audrey opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, he turned and strode toward the door.