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The foggy image of both his mother and Cordelia’s face lingered in the back of his mind the entire right back to Solshire.

CHAPTER13

“Is it truly finished?”

Directly across from Cordelia sat the completely upright orangery. There were seven, tall oval windows erected from the stone floor. They curved near the ceiling, allowing all the world to see into the filled hothouse. Pillars were in a half circle around the entrance, a balcony positioned above it. The ground directly around the orangery was a burnt colored stone, the grass bright green all around it.

On the outside, the walls of the orangery were a sterling white, not yet tarnished by weather. Oh, but Cordelia couldn’t wait to see the vines begin to crawl up the pillars, a haunted and lived-in look taking over the estate’s newest edition. At either end of the front outside wall were a pair of statues, each taking on a different pose. Cordelia commissioned one of the most well known sculptors who happened to be traveling through London. It was a once in a lifetime experience, and the artist brought the entire building to light.

Cordelia knew it was even more grand on the inside. She designed the very walls, the carpets lining the floors, the hand carved tables and newly upholstered chairs. Bookcases stood here and there, full of specific volumes Cordelia removed from her own personal collection. There was a piece of her in every single thing within the orangery.

Hunters stood beside her, looking over the orangery with a surprisingly proud expression. “Entirely complete, your Grace,” he replied.

“And the workers, they -”

“Have been paid their dues,” Hunters interjected. “And then some.”

Cordelia glanced over at him with a laugh. “You have been incredibly on top of things, Hunters. Is it possible to be more than impressed?”

“I won’t stop you from saying it,” he replied, the corner of his lip turning up slightly. “There is a final touch or two we might require a painter for, or perhaps the matter of filling the greenhouse, but those decisions have been left up to you, your Grace.”

Cordelia smiled. “I have never quite been truly proud of anything, Hunters.”

He looked over at her. “Nothing at all, your Grace?”

She remained quiet, feeling oddly out of place.

“I do recall you being a painter, your Grace,” Hunters continued after a beat of silence. “Won’t you consider that something to be proud of?”

“Isn’t this much better than a silly painting?”

“Your Grace,” Hunters said, taking a few steps closer, “I would like to ask you to reconsider your latest decision on the orangery’s decoration. To put your paintings up inside would -”

“Novice art does not belong in such a place,” Cordelia snapped.

Hunters smiled sadly. “It is not at all novice, your Grace.”

She looked away, staring out towards the estate. Cordelia was expecting there to be a few extra additions needing to be made on the orangery before it could be considered entirely completed. Though it was something she could have finished rather quickly, Cordelia considered it to be the perfect chance to get Michael involved. Not that he showed any interest in the orangery’s creation before, but it was his estate, after all. The orangery would be a permanent structure, and it seemed only fair.

“Is the Duke inside, Hunters?”

The butler nodded. “In his study, your Grace. Would you like for me to fetch him?”

“No, thank you,” she replied, already walking towards the back doors. “Hunters?”

“Yes, your Grace?”

“Has the Duke seemed,” she paused, searching for the right word, “Particularly quiet this past week?”

Hunters watched her with a steady expression for a moment. “I am afraid so, your Grace.”

“Whatever for? Has something happened?”

“I do not believe I can say.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I hardly know,” Hunters said with a small raise of his shoulders. “It has been quite some time since the Duke confided in me in the way he once did. I rarely know where he goes, the things he does. Though,” the butler grew quite wistful suddenly, “I can still only tell what he is thinking by a look alone.”