Page 11 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)
CHAPTER 10
“W hat do you think, your Grace?”
Words left Cordelia the moment she looked at herself in the mirror. The deeply emerald fabric stood out brightly against her softer skin. Freckles she never realized she had scattered along her nose’s bridge, a few popping up around her jaw and neck. Mrs. Bellflower pinned Cordelia’s light brown hair in a crowning fashion, a few curled ringlets framing her temples and ears. Jewelry, colored green to match her eyes and the dress, rested along her collarbones. The white gloves pulled up to her elbows snuggly. And the earrings she wore matched the jade flowers pinned around her hair.
None of it, not a single bit, reminded Cordelia of herself. There was never a time before that moment in which she looked at herself in a looking glass and blushed, surprised and embarrassed by her own beauty. But there she was, unable to tear her eyes away from herself, unaware that even a woman like her could fall victim to the slightest bit of vanity. Perhaps it was her art-centric mind, her ability to capture beauty in even the most unexpected of places. This, she knew, was a particularly unexpected place.
“Your Grace?” Mrs. Bellflower asked again, moving to stand directly beside her. “Does it not please you?”
“Devils, Mrs. Bellflower, it pleases me all too much.”
The housekeeper covered her mouth from Cordelia's brass use of language.
“I apologize,” she quickly added.
Mrs. Bellflower laughed lightly. “You were shocked, your Grace.”
“I am more than shocked.”
“Did you not know you were such a beautiful creature?”
Cordelia glanced over at her. “I doubt it even still.”
“It saddens me greatly that you do not recall your mother, your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower suddenly said, the intention behind her words surprising. “I can only imagine what a beauty she must have been, if this is how you look now, your Grace.”
“You flatter me too much.”
“You do not flatter yourself enough,” the housekeeper quickly added. “There won’t be a hint of any rumors at that ball, your Grace, I am quite sure of it.”
Cordelia laughed. “And what makes you so confident?”
“The rest of the Ton will be far too distracted on you to even think of it, your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower cooed as she crossed the room. “I am sure you were raised on piety and humility, your Grace, as we all are.”
“Of course,” Cordelia replied, immediately turning to put her back to the mirror.
“Well, I believe there are moments the Lord intended for us to look upon our own beauty, and to thank him for the blessings we have so graciously received, your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower explained. “Recognizing the beauty you put aside all your life won’t make you any less blessed in his eyes. Do you understand what I mean, your Grace?”
Cordelia nodded. “You are a very wise housekeeper, Mrs. Bellflower.”
“Now you flatter me all too much!” The housekeeper gathered up Cordelia’s coat before crossing to the door. “Are you ready, your Grace?”
Cordelia glanced over her shoulder at her reflection once more. In all honesty, she barely recognized herself. There was no hint of the painter, the girl who seldom attended balls unless forced, the girl who was once left behind by her first betrothed, the girl who was left alone once more by her beast of a husband. Everything that made Cordelia herself felt nonexistent. She glanced around the room. Noticed the easels, the blank canvases, the half finished paintings, the sleeping terrier curled up in the corner. All those things reminded her that she was still herself, even if she couldn’t tell.
What if the Duke could not tell? What if he looked upon her painted and gowned with a raised brow? What if he never intended to see her in such a way?
And what if, the worst possibility of them all, the Duke decided he preferred neither version of her?
Cordelia drew in a deep breath. Nevertheless, the ball was still going to happen, and she was still expected to attend. There were rumors to squash, gossip to handle. Her name and her future in London hung in the balance. The sooner it could be rectified, the sooner Cordelia could return to the small things that granted her happiness. She managed to look out the window, the glass roof of the orangery catching the falling rays of light as the sun slipped beyond the horizon.
“I am, Mrs. Bellflower,” she finally said, hoping the smile on her face did not look as truthful as she felt.
The housekeeper beamed. “Come along, your Grace.”
They made their way out of the chambers, and Cordelia followed close to Mrs. Bellflower’s heel. The halls of Solshire’s estate were quiet that evening, most of the staff tucked away elsewhere. There would be no dinner to prepare for the servants to prepare, no drinks to pour or anything else of the sort. Cordelia, for a moment, wished to be one of them, not bound by the words of the Ton and free to do as they pleased.
Mrs. Bellflower stepped aside at the staircase, extending an arm for Cordelia to walk in front of her rather than behind.
As Cordelia stepped forward, the front doors opened wide and letting the smoldering light inwards, her eyes caught on a figure standing at the foot of the stairs. The Duke raised his head to her. His dark hair was pulled back, a few strands escaping to fall across his shrouded eyes. The normal hard line she expected his lips to be in was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he gaped, ever so slightly, just enough for her to notice the difference.
The Duke’s unmistakable gaze clung to her as she took each step, his dark brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Cordelia found herself unable to look away from him in the same fashion, though she blamed it on her confusion to his prolonged attention rather than anything else. She remained on the second to last step for a moment, standing a foot taller than him.
“Your Grace,” the Duke said, his voice gravelly, as though he hadn’t spoken in a long time, “That color suits you.”
Cordelia swallowed. “Thank you, your Grace.” She curtsied, though her eyes peeked up at him, eager to take in his attire now that they were only a few feet away from each other.
The Duke wore a black tailcoat, which she very much expected. Beneath it, however, was a green so dark she almost missed it. Within an instant, Cordelia knew their outfits were coordinated to match, a common thing seen with married couples in the Ton. She looked away, catching a glimpse of the housekeeper coming down the stairs, a knowingly proud smirk spreading across her face.
Cordelia met her husband’s stare. “You look very well.”
“Thank you,” he stiffly replied.
They remained like that for a moment, till footsteps came from the opened doors.
“Your Grace,” a footman said after deeply bowing. “The carriage is ready.”
The Duke nodded, and raised a hand to Cordelia.
She looked down at his outstretched palm, unmoving. Immediately, Cordelia found herself staring at the barely visible scars that lined his hands. She swallowed, her throat becoming increasingly dry as she remembered the moment from the bathroom, and how all his scars still looked so prominent in her mind’s eye. It was something she believed she would seldom forget.
Cordelia reached, placing her gloved hand within his own. Despite the glove, she jerked backwards, the touch of his hand sparking something unfamiliar beneath her skin. Cordelia’s heart raced, the feeling almost forcing her to turn around and sprint back up the stairs.
“What is it?” the Duke asked, his gaze flicking between her hand and her widened eyes.
Cordelia shook her head. “Nothing,” she murmured as she retook his hand. “Nothing at all, your Grace.”
The Duke, now watching her with a wary eye, wrapped her hand around his arm, holding her tight against his side as she left the staircase behind. He walked a step faster than her, his long legs naturally giving him wider strides. Cordelia sped to keep up, feeling like a fool and a child at the same time.
Outside of the estate, the ornate carriage awaited them. A driver already sat at the top, and a footman held the door open. The Duke helped Cordelia up into the compartment, his fingers grazing the small of her back before jerking away in the same fashion she had done to him. She took a seat on one side, her legs twitching from the upcoming event. The Duke climbed in afterwards, giving a knock on the door to signal the driver. Within an instant, they were off to London.
The ride was quiet, at first. Cordelia kept her head facing the window, holding the curtain back to get a look at the quickly falling sun. The sunset sent brilliantly bright colors across the region, looking as if the entire forests surrounding Solshire were lit on fire as they left it all behind. Cordelia rarely moved. She could feel the Duke’s presence before laying her eyes on him. There was something about his stare that weighed heavily with heat, as if she stood beneath the sun in an empty field. The thoughts ran amok in her head.
Why does he watch me?
Does he even watch me, or do I make it up on my own accord?
He is watching me.
Cordelia glanced over at him. If he was watching, he made sure to look away long before she ever thought to catch him in the act. The Duke stared out the opposite window, his jaw tense and rigid beneath his skin. She found herself unable to look away, suddenly, falling victim to the very thing she was mentally accusing him of. But she found herself unable to avoid it. The Duke was an odd enigma, one she was never pleased with. Despite her displeasure, Cordelia ached to know what lies beneath him, what made the Duke be known to the Ton as a beastly man. All she saw was a man who hid behind walls. Walls that intended to keep the entire world out.
The Duke shifted, his head turning towards her.
Cordelia jerked away, flaming embarrassment and shame crawling up her face.
“Do you know what is expected of you?” he suddenly asked.
She frowned. “At the ball?”
The Duke nodded.
“I’m not sure. It has been ages since I have ever even thought of attending a ball, and -”
“Not what the Ton expects of you,” the Duke interjected. “But what I am expecting.”
“Oh,” she drawled, raising one brow. “Won’t you enlighten me, your Grace?”
He stared at her silently for a moment, his gaze growing more and more narrowed by the second. “To be rid of the Ton’s rumors completely, we must act like a loving couple, one who had every intention of being wed in the first place.”
Cordelia frowned at the implication of his words, wondering once more what made him decide to wed her those few weeks ago. Instead of asking, she merely nodded. “I am aware,” she replied. “And how do you plan on doing such a thing?”
He raised a brow. “Me?”
“Of course you,” she said with a shrug. “I cannot recall ever seeing you smile, and yet, you intend on proving the Ton wrong about how you feel about me. Let us not forget, your Grace, that you were the one who decided to live elsewhere rather than alongside your wife.”
The Duke ground his teeth together irritably. “I am perfectly capable of putting on a facade.”
“Perhaps,” she mused, reveling in her ability to be the one to make him uncomfortable in a surprising turn of events. “But might I suggest something?”
“I believe you are enjoying my uncomfort far too much.”
Cordelia laughed. “Am I that readable?”
“No,” he replied. “But you are failing to hide it well now.”
“You might call me by my name,” she said. “And I might call you by yours.”
His brow shot up. “How does that affect the Ton?”
“It shows familiarity, your Grace. Do you truly believe that happily married couples do not know each other by name?”
“Knowing and using are two different things.”
“Exactly.”
The Duke narrowed his eyes again.
“Go on,” she said.
“Now?”
“We might as well practice.”
The Duke opened his mouth before shutting it quickly. For a moment he only stared, his head tilting ever so slightly. “Cordelia.”
She exhaled sharply. In all honesty, Cordelia never expected him to do it. She merely teased, pushing his buttons before she needed to act like a doting wife. When he managed to do it, she was frozen, becoming more and more aware of how much closer they were approaching the ball. Now, as he watched her, she could see the pride swirling in his eyes. As much as she didn’t expect him to do it, he did not believe she could either.
Cordelia gathered herself, raising her chin. “Michael.”
The compartment grew heavy with tension. They merely stared at one another, and Cordelia soon felt her ailment return to her. Beneath her chest, her heartbeat rammed against her, as if it was desperate to be free of her. She swallowed, as if it could stop the feeling from capsizing her.
Neither one of them spoke a word for the rest of the ride. Once the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the house in London, Cordelia drew in a deep breath.
“Are you well?”
She looked up at him. “Why?”
“You are pale.”
“Fresh air will do me good,” she muttered.
The Duke tilted his head again. “Your beauty is unbelievable,” he muttered.
Cordelia’s head shot up, but the carriage door had already popped open, and the Duke was not waiting another moment to enter the evening air. Noise from the already started ball and guests pooling in from other carriages filled the compartment. Cordelia was stunned into stillness, the words he spoke hanging in the air all around her. How could she be expected to act as if she hadn’t heard it, as if the Duke had always offered her a kind word or a delightful compliment?
The Duke’s hand slipped into the carriage.
She reached, hesitating for a split second before placing her gloved hand in his own.
Instead of pulling away, the feeling that surged through Cordelia was nothing short of confident adrenaline. It was as if she was alive again, rejuvenated and ready to stand before the people who thought to judge her, undermine her. Cordelia glimmered as she stepped out of the carriage. The courses of couples heading towards the Manor’s opened doors stepped aside when they noticed Cordelia walking by, paying special attention to the man beside her. They walked in unicent, neither one of them daring to lower their gazes or chins.
The Manor was a beautiful one, and Cordelia felt the slightest bit of shame for not knowing whose home they entered. The Duke handled the invitation himself, making sure to reply for the both of them. She felt careless enough for never thinking to ask. The halls were already filled with guests. They resided in the foyer before slipping into wide drawing rooms and great parlours. After twisting around a few corners was a grand ballroom, where couples gathered and waited for the orchestra to begin playing.
Cordelia glanced around. The guests eyed her husband silently, not one of them daring to utter a word. They stepped out of the way, casted their stares in the opposite direction when he happened to turn in their direction. It’s like the rumors never existed.
“Why are you smiling?”
She looked over to see the Duke watching her closely. He frowned like she had taken ill in his arms. “I don’t suppose anyone here would dare to mention a word about those pesky rumors.”
The Duke huffed. “I would hope not.”
Before Cordelia could make the mention about their intentions being accomplished rather easily, she noticed a small posse heading their way. There was an older gentleman, dressed similarly to the Duke but without any added color. His wispy grey hair was pulled into a short tail above his neck. On his arm was a lovely presenting lady, her pale colored dress holding onto her figure in a gentle way. Her blonde curls rested on the top of her hair with an assortment of pins. There were a pair of girls behind them, looking like it was their first ball of the Season.
“Your Grace,” the gentleman said as he bowed. “This is an awfully pleasant surprise!”
The Duke nodded, reaching forward to shake the man’s hand. “How are you, Lord Crake?” He turned towards Cordelia. “Lord Crake worked alongside my father for quite some time. They had intertwining businesses.” The Duke reached, his hand pressing against the small of her back and guiding her forward. “This is my wife, Cordelia.”
She stepped towards the gentleman, letting out a sigh as the word wife sunk into her. The feeling of The Duke’s hand behind her made her head foggy and uncollected, as if she was burdened with a fever. She smiled the best she could, giving her full attention to the Lord and pretending like she wasn’t at all oddly distracted by his touch.
“I have heard much about you, your Grace, from the Duke of Darkenhill,” Lord Crake said, giving her a cheeky wink.
Cordelia smiled curiously. “You know my brother?”
“In business terms only,” he replied. “But he is a great Duke, a brilliant successor of your late father.”
“Those are kind words, my Lord.”
Lord Crake led his own wife and family forward. “Your Grace, might I introduce Lady Crake, and my beautiful daughters, Loretta and Arietta?”
The daughters curtsied at the same time, their sweet smiles and delicately brown hair almost identical.
“Your Grace,” Lord Crake continued, “I am very pleased to see you, very much indeed. There was something from our correspondence I wanted to discuss in person.”
The Duke pressed his lips together. “What is it?”
A hand tugged at Cordelia’s dress. She turned to see the pair of daughters watching her, their heads tilted in opposite directions. “Hello,” she said with a raised brow. “How old are you two?”
“She’s sixteen,” Loretta replied.
Arietta followed: “And she’s seventeen.”
“Not twins?”
They both shook their heads.
Cordelia held back her laugh. “Are you two enjoying yourselves?”
“I didn’t believe them,” Loretta blurted. “Not one of them.”
Arietta nodded. “Neither did I. We never did.”
“Believed what?”
“The rumors, silly,” Loretta teased. “It’s been the talk of London for ages. Arietta didn’t think you would come out this Season, but I never doubted you for a second.”
Arietta pinched her sister. “I didn’t doubt her, Loretta!” She turned, giving Cordelia a darling smile. “I only thought you both needed your time away from the city. Isn’t that right, your Grace?”
Cordelia glanced between them with wide eyes. Their identical doe eyes and eager expressions brought panic to her in the matter of seconds. She never prepared for anyone to outrightly speak about the rumors, or even the details of her marriage. Was that even polite ? Cordelia sighed. The Ton had no issues discussing the workers going in and out of the estate - there wasn’t any room for surprise anymore.
“You two are curious, aren’t you?” Cordelia asked.
Loretta nodded. “Along with the rest of London, your Grace!”
“Whatever for?” She shrugged. “If you don’t believe the rumors, then -”
“Of course we don’t believe the rumors,” Arietta interjected, giving her sister a very obvious sideways glance. “But wouldn’t it be relieving to put the past gossip aside through revealing the true origin of your love story?”
Cordelia gaped. “Love story?”
“Any couple who stays away from the London Season for as long as you have are either in the unlimited throws of love, or deep in unmistakable scandal,” Arietta replied, her smile bright and cherry. “We know which one, of course, but we believe you ought to silence them with how you came to be wed. Not a soul knows!”
Loretta nodded. “No one in London, your Grace. What a shame that is!”
“O-Of course,” Cordelia said, “A terrible shame.”
The pair of sisters watched expectantly. Behind them, the approaching crowd seemed to linger closer still, as if they wished to listen in at the same time. Cordelia brushed the thought away. That had to have been her paranoia talking. She glanced between the girls once more. They needed a good story, one that satisfied their curiosity and put a stop to the rumors. They could claim to not have believed them all they wanted - Cordelia could see the truth pass behind their eyes. They were as curious as the rest of them.
“I’m sure you both know of my previous engagement,” Cordelia began.
They nodded.
She didn’t even want to dwell on the fact that they knew of that. “It was not at all what you might call a love match,” she said. “Perhaps it was doomed from the start, or never meant to be in the first place.”
“He had a lover,” Loretta said.
Arietta continued: “He admitted to never caring for you or the betrothal, your Grace. Very sad.”
Cordelia eyed her. I need to be better about this. “Regardless, no matter the Earl’s reasons, I was no longer betrothed. Well,” she paused, looking over to where the Duke still spoke with the Lord. His profile faced her, and she suddenly admired the sharp, jutting edge of his slightly crooked nose. “Michael knew me before my first engagement.”
The girl’s had widening smiles.
“He proposed as soon as the news of my broken engagement reached him,” Cordelia continued, trying to ignore how the Duke shifted towards her when she said his name. He is listening! Cordelia’s smile broadened. “Michael was quite nervous, you see.”
“Really?” Loretta asked. “The Duke of Solshire can be nervous ?”
“Oh, yes,” Cordelia teased. “He seemed to believe that he didn’t stand a chance with me!”
The pair of sisters laughed, stepping closer to her as they absorbed the story. At the same time, Cordelia glanced up. The Duke was no longer facing Lord Crake. He stared directly at her, a frown tugging his lips downwards.
Cordelia held her chin up proudly. “To turn a long story short,” she mused, raising her voice loud enough for nearby passersby to overhear, “ Michael’s proposal was quite a dramatic affair. The wedding was rushed in order to stop a scandal from spreading and, of course, for our nuptials to begin as soon as they possibly could!”
As the sisters fawned over the story, smiles spreading across their faces, and a few nearby Ladies whispering with their attention grabbed, Cordelia felt quite proud of herself. Perhaps she convinced enough of the Ton to disregard whatever gossip they held onto before.
Cordelia glanced in the Duke’s direction.
He was striding towards her, hands tightened into fists at his sides. The crowds still parted as he walked, no one daring to take their eyes away from the devilishly handsome Duke Cordelia convinced them to love. Even so, the look in his gaze was nowhere near that of a doting husband. Cordelia readied herself for a scolding, for him to grab her forcefully and pull her away from the gathering crowd.
The Duke reached, his warm hand gently catching onto my gloved palm. He raised my hand to his lips, just barely placing a kiss upon the silk before bowing gracefully. When he rose, the intensity in his eyes only grew stronger.
“Might you honor me with a dance,” he asked, his hoarse voice carrying around the room, “ My love ?”
Her eyes went wide. Devils, what is he doing? Cordelia stared up at him, her heart racing unbelievably beneath her skin. How had he managed to do the exact opposite of what she thought him to do? How could the Duke never once be the man she thought him to be?
Cordelia managed to look around the room. The orchestra was gearing up to play another song, and the dancers were gathering on the floor. Eyes clung to her expectantly from every corner. And yet, the only figure Cordelia found herself able to focus on was Michael. She softened, the fear she once might’ve had within a room full of judgemental Ton members seeping out of her, as though it never existed in the first place.
She curtsied, tightening her fingers around her own.
“I would be honored.”