Page 14 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

CHAPTER 13

“I s 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.”

“You have known him for a long time, haven’t you?”

Hunters blinked as if he just realized she was standing there. “Well, yes, your Grace. Since he was a very young boy.”

Cordelia stepped closer to him, her voice quiet. “Was it me, Hunters?”

“Was what you, your Grace?”

“Did I drive him into this seclusion?”

Hunters let his eyes soften. “Your Grace,” he began, “I do not believe there is a thing you have done to do this. The Duke struggles with his own internal afflictions, more than any man I have ever known.”

Cordelia pressed her lips together. “Everything was quite alright during the ball,” she whispered. “The next day, h-he began to shrink away from me. As if I had pressed too hard. Though it was only to prove a point to the Ton, I enjoyed the friendship we had. It has been a long time since I had one.”

“Perhaps you should speak with the Duke,” Hunters said with a knowing smile.

She nodded. “I will take him to the orangery.”

Cordelia turned around and hiked up her skirts to run up to the estate’s back door. Slipping inside, she walked through the halls, gulping down breaths of air to cure her beating heart. The moment she realized Michael was beginning to shrink away from her, Cordelia did not know what to do. Everything leading up to the ball simmered into a gentle truce between the two of them. Cordelia finally felt at ease alongside him, comfortable with the mysterious man she married two years ago.

And suddenly, it was as if it never existed.

Cordelia curved around the hall, her hand running along the wall as she came up to the study. The door was opened with only a crack, a sliver of light peeking into the hallway. Cordelia drew in a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen?

Many, many things.

Cordelia knocked on the door and crept inside.

Michael sat behind a desk, his attention focused in on a few letters displayed in front of him. He wrote a few letters of his own, his head not even coming up for hair as she stepped inside.

“Are you well?” Cordelia asked, her voice cracking as the embarrassment slowly took over her.

“Yes, yes,” he replied. He didn’t bother to look at her.

Cordelia gulped. Any bravery or confidence she once had seemed to slip out the door. Michael wasn’t acting at all like she expected him to. He wouldn’t even look at her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have even bothered with it. Why would Michael suddenly care about something he had no interest in learning more about? She shook her head. She would ask him what she wanted, no matter how disrespectful he insisted on being.

“Work on the orangery has been completed,” Cordelia continued, keeping her voice loud. “A few additions need to be approved, of course, but it is quite a stunning feature on the estate.”

Michael nodded his head slightly, but remained tight-lipped.

“Hunters took care of the workers. They were all paid with delightful bonuses. It’ll be quite a good name on Solshire.”

He pressed his lips together as he signed the end of one of the letters.

Cordelia’s hands tightened into fists. “Since this happens to be your home, your Grace,” she snapped, her voice clashing against the walls, “You should have the final say in what happens with the orangery. Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, Michael raised his head. Setting down the quill, he leaned back in his seat, eyes holding onto her all the same. Not once did he look away, even blink. All he did was watch, his head beginning to tilt ever so slightly. Beneath his stare, Cordelia squirmed and fidgeted, unable to hold it back. Despite the shadow shrouding his gaze, the look he gave her wasn’t any less intense. She was desperate to know what he was thinking, why he watched her without daring to say a word.

Michael sighed, finally, and lifted himself up from behind the desk. Straightening his coat, he kept his lips in a straight line, his brow lifting as he watched her.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

The sunlight from the late afternoon cascaded into the orangery, sending a glowing hue across the entire building. The maroon colored floors and brightly green plants clashed against one another, creating a beautiful image that Cordelia wished she could remember forever. Suddenly she yearned for a canvas and a brush, desperate to paint and put her hands to work in some way possible. If she could have been out there, nailing the wood and building the structure herself, Cordelia would’ve showered in the glory of its creation. Even so, just as the architect, Cordelia still had pride bursting through her.

She pressed further into the orangery, almost forgetting that she was meant to be touring Michael. All of it was too gorgeous for her to pay attention to anything else. To read a book inside the orangery in the early morning was on her mind. To take tea and paint and lounge without a care in the world made her drowsy with desire. Everything felt possible and bright with the orangery, her work put into a very obvious reality.

“We designed an open space parlor in the middle of the orangery,” Cordelia finally said, practically panting from happiness. “When the flowers bloom, the smell will be divine. Better than you might ever imagine.”

Michael lurked behind her, dressed in a regal black suit. He held his arms behind his back, one brow raised as he looked it over. The corner of his lip twitched.

Cordelia watched him helplessly. Somehow she never realized how badly she wanted him to take pride in her work. “It will be fully functioning if you were worried about productivity,” Cordelia said.

He faced her. “Productivity?”

“Throughout winter, the summer harvest will stay strong. The plants will be protected from frost,” she explained with an embarrassed smile.

“I do not recall ever knowing a woman to be so adamant about building an orangery,” he said.

Cordelia breathed a sigh. “All my life, I wished to have an orangery.”

“Whatever for?”

“For exactly this,” she raised a hand towards the greenery. “Why do you think I restored your family gardens last summer? I have always enjoyed gardening and the peace that came with it.”

Michael watched her. “Did you never garden as a young girl?”

“Not as often as I would have wished,” she replied, hiding her surprise at his interest in it. “Irene very much preferred to take on the garden. And as a girl who accomplished mastering singing, reading, embroidery and needlepoint, my father was in no hurry to deny Irene of any of her wants.”

Michael smirked. “Is she your eldest sibling?”

“Yes,” Cordelia replied, walking through the orangery aimlessly. She froze suddenly, a thought coming back to her. “I completely forgot. I received a letter from my Aunt, who plans on hosting a dinner party a few days from now. She invited the both of us.”

“You look nervous.”

“Well,” she muttered, “She is my father’s sister.”

Michael raised a quizzical brow.

“Nevertheless,” Cordelia continued, pushing past the embarrassment, “My siblings will both be there. It might be something to attend.” She faced him. “If you wished it to be.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking for permission?”

“I suppose I am.”

Michael held his arms behind his back, an odd look on his face. “I won’t say I’m not surprised. Why would you ask for us to attend?”

She bit back her tongue for a moment, feeling rather like a fool in front of her calm and collected husband. Cordelia drew in a deep breath. There was no time left for sidestepping true thoughts or ignoring hidden feelings. The time spent alongside Michael made her feel more at home at Solshire than ever before. And she had no intentions of going back to how it was before.

“I have to admit,” Cordelia said in a small voice, “That I preferred our truce. I would like for us to keep it, if it pleases you all the same.”

Michael’s lips parted to speak, but she stepped closer, blurting out more before he ever could.

“While you might have enjoyed your years of solitude, Michael,” she began, his name sounding foreign on her lips, “I must admit that it was never as pleasurable for me. Even if I made it seem like something else before. I am a proud person, you see.”

Michael’s lip turned up in a smile. “I am well aware, Cordelia.”

A shiver rolled down her spine. Calm and collected.

“I’m sure you could assume that I was never the child my family expected to have,” she whispered. “Perhaps it has left me to feel smaller than I am, useless when I am not. Irene married the man put in front of her, never once dared to mutter a complaint to any one of us. My father, who I always believed to be quite an overbearing man, expected me to do the same.”

“But,” Michael said, taking small steps to get closer to her, “You had the Earl, didn’t you?”

Cordelia sighed. “No,” she muttered, “I do not believe I ever did.”

He frowned.

“Yes, he was my betrothed and we met on multiple occasions. I thought he was a proper gentleman, but that wasn’t nearly enough. The moment he left, the moment those scandal papers arrived at our door,” Cordelia paused, drawing in a deep breath, “The first thing my father said was ‘What did you do to drive him away?’”

Michael wasn’t too far away then, his head tilted as he listened. There was something frustrated in his face, as if he grew irritated and tried to hide it but failed. His muscles were tense, his jaw tightened and rigid beneath his skin. She could not understand his expression.

“I could not be the daughter he expected me to be,” Cordelia said. “And so, the moment he could, my father married me off to you without a second thought. Not once was I asked for my own opinion, to be offered to meet my newly engaged suitor before daring to step foot in a chapel. None of it.”

Michael pressed his lips together.

“I do not try to burden you with my own sorrow,” Cordelia quickly added, now looking up at him. “I only want you to understand.”

“Understand what?” he muttered.

She breathed in. “How much this all means to me. To do something,” she paused, remembering Hunters words, “That I can be proud of. Something of my own accord. Something from my own mind. You might have left, but you let me do this all the same. For that, I am grateful.”

Michael watched her with a furrowed brow. Perhaps he did not understand her sentiment, perhaps he believed she wished to bring him out to the orangery to further irritate and bother him. Cordelia fidgeted beneath his persistent stare. Finally, gathering her strength, Cordelia faced him head on, keeping her face angled upwards towards him.

“There is something I cannot understand,” she whispered.

Michael searched her face. “What is it?”

“Why did you agree to marry me?”

His lips parted. Suddenly his eyes were clinging onto Cordelia’s lips as if he was caught in a trance. He swayed, dipping down to get even closer to her. She jerked backwards for a moment, surprised at his closeness. A rustic scent washed over her as he inched closer. Cordelia breathed him in, growing increasingly intoxicated by his mere aura, the shimmering light of the falling sun fading in all around them. The glow the orangery walls gave off with the impending sunlight set the entire room on fire, matching the energy that bounced between Cordelia and the beastly Duke.

“Michael -” she managed to whisper before he crashed into her.

His lips were desperate against her lips at first before softening to a gentle motion, merely fading into her. Cordelia felt her shoulders sag, the ability to keep herself afloat quickly seeping out of her. She reached for him but could barely hold on, her legs beginning to wobble and shake beneath her. Michael ducked an arm around her waist, as if he already knew, and hoisted her up, not once letting her come up for air. Chills rolled up and down her arms as his other hand snaked up her side, finding its way to cup the side of her face.

Michael’s hands were full of grooves from his scars and calluses. His skin was rough against her cheek, but Cordelia didn’t seem to mind it one bit. She leaned into him, as if she couldn’t feel him enough.

The kiss lasted till Michael abruptly pulled himself away.

Cordelia was still outstretched, still lost in the feeling of his lips against hers, when she realized he had already put a few feet of space between them. Full of shame and embarrassment, Cordelia retracted, her arms wrapping tightly around her chest as if she needed to hold herself together. She glanced in his direction and immediately noticed how he could not look at her. He kept his gaze focused above her head, or at the plants.

What have you done? She asked herself as her breathing grew sharp and ragged.

“If you must know,” Michael suddenly said, his arms once again twisted behind his back, “My father added a clause to his will months before he passed.”

“A clause?”

“Before I could access the fortune that was rightfully mine, I needed to be wed.”

Cordelia blinked as she watched him. “I-I don’t understand.” Everything still felt incredibly foggy, the phantom feeling of his lips against her making her drowsy. She inched backwards, almost falling into a chair. The feeling slowly returned to her legs, her strength steadily rising to her arms, when she finally soaked in everything he was trying to say. “Do you mean to say that you agreed to marry me for money?”

“Not at all,” Michael replied. “I agreed to marry you for everything owed to me. ”

“Is there a difference?”

He stared with an expressionless face. “Of course there is.”

Cordelia felt drunk with emotion. The desire she once felt trickled out of her like water. Soon, all that remained was a growing anger. She wondered how much she was worth, how much more money Michael was able to grasp onto once they signed the marriage license. How much did it take for her to be acceptable, for her hand in marriage to be worth all the trouble?

She shook her head. There wasn’t a simple thought in her mind. Everything felt like it was spinning, from the ceiling to the very floor beneath her. Cordelia pressed her palm to the side of her face, feeling the unavoidable heat beneath her skin, as if she had been suddenly plagued with an incurable fever.

The comfort and steadiness Cordelia found alongside Michael began to fade away. She had never experienced a betrayal before, and yet, it hit her almost instantaneously. And as the anger grew, stemming from a place she couldn’t recognize, Cordelia began to fight with herself from the inside out. It had been a marriage of convenience all along. She herself married him through convenience sake, to save her family name and be rid of the scandal that desperately clung onto her.

How was this any different?

Cordelia touched her lips, and they felt almost numb, tingling with the kiss Michael had so easily left upon her.

“Your efforts seem to have been a success,” Michael suddenly said.

“My efforts?”

He gestured around. “The orangery, I mean. You have my utmost respect and congratulations for completing such an impressive feat. I’m sure that it would draw the eye of even the most skilled and sought after architect.” Michael bowed deeply. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Cordelia watched as he turned abruptly, and stormed out of the orangery. Within a moment, after the front door clapped shut, Cordelia was once again alone in the orangery. She looked around at everything she managed to create. All that she had been so proud of felt miniscule, suddenly, as if it had never happened in the first place.

And when the tears began to fall, Cordelia had no explanation for them at all.