Page 16 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)
CHAPTER 15
“W hen she barely reached my hip,” the Countess, Patience, was in the middle of retelling, “Irene already sang greater than Angelica Catalani. Half as beautiful, too!”
A ripple of polite, but rather uncomfortable, laughter spread over the dining table. The first course had been served, and Michael could barely find the stomach to indulge as the tension grew to become practically palpable. Only the residents of Pembroke, the Countess and her husband, the Earl, divulged in their meals like it was any other day. The cousin visiting on business hardly paid attention to the conversation, too busy scarfing down his soup than paying his family any mind.
Catalani was a name he recognized. A famous Italian opera singer who blessed London with a few performances during her height of fame. Michael glanced in Irene’s direction. The eldest Celeston housed a bright pink hue to her cheeks as her Aunt continued boasting about her past achievements. Michael could see the resemblance between the opera singer and Irene, though he hardly doubted it had anything to do with her success in London. The Countess, on the other hand, had an obviously different belief.
“Irene would sing to my guests during our parties,” the Countess recounted with a glass of wine in hand. “All the guests had a tear at the ready whenever she played. Oh, they cried and cried to me afterwards about her beauty, and I could only say -”
“Auntie,” Irene politely interjected, her voice barely raised. She gave the Countess a sweet smile, a slight tilt in her head. “Let us not talk about me so much! There are so many more tales to fill the dinner table, aren’t there?”
“My niece,” the Countess cooed, reaching over to run her fingers across Irene’s curved cheek, “So pure, so humble. I always said that vanity causes imperfections, haven’t I? Haven’t I, William?”
The Earl lifted his head out of his soup bowl and ran a cloth across his lips. “Yes, my dear,” he said. “Yes.”
The Countess turned, looking rather proud of herself. “As I was saying,” she continued, ignoring Irene’s cautious pleading. “After they cried, the guests demanded to know how a girl could be so beautiful, inside and out. I could only say: ‘Gentlemen, she is simply cut from the Celeston cloth. Breeding, my friends. Perfect breeding.’” She laughed sharply. “Isn’t that right, William?”
Once again, the Earl turned as if he heard her for the first time, not at all involved in the conversation. “Yes, my love,” he said for a second time. “Of course.”
“Have you been singing lately, Cordelia?”
Across the table, Michael’s wife visibly gulped. She smiled, tilting her head in the same fashion Irene did a moment before. Cordelia shook her head, careful not to let the content expression on her face slip away.
“No, Aunt,” Cordelia replied. “I don’t believe I was ever any good at it.”
The Countess sighed. “Though, we paid for the finest tutors, didn't we?”
“As a matter of fact,” the Earl piped up, leaning back against his seat at the head of the table, “I ran into the old woman a fortnight ago!”
Michael glanced over to watch his wife wince slightly. It was hard to believe, at first, that the stubborn woman he had grown to know over the past few weeks sank at the feet of a simple Countess. But, the longer he heard her Aunt’s shrill voice and the unflinching need to insult someone, Michael understood it well enough.
The more surprising bit, however, was Cordelia’s restraint. He did not know her to be someone who stepped down from a fight, who was afraid to say whatever it was she truly meant. Each time he combatted her, tried to show he was the authority in their relationship, Cordelia responded in the exact opposite way. There wasn’t fear, not recognition, not submission. She merely made herself look taller, raised her chin up higher. Michael did not believe there was a fearful bone in her small body.
But then, suddenly, Michael felt as though he didn’t know Cordelia at all.
“Mrs. Brimley?” Cordelia asked. “You saw Mrs. Brimley?”
“Well, she still teaches in London!” The Earl smirked in the same way his wife did. “The poor woman recounted her short time tutoring Cordelia. I almost felt inclined to offer her some more pay!”
Laughter ensued across the table. Even the cousin, James, who I thought to be a mindless fool too focused on eating to dare butter a word, joined in on the phone. Irene eyed her sister solemnly, her lips pressed tightly together. Beside her, Duncan stared at the Countess and the Earl, a displeased frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Despite the clear discomfort, not one of them said a word. Michael glanced around the table, his gaze lastly landing on Cordelia. She was acting in the oddest way.
“Irene,” the Countess began, “I remember when Mrs. Brimley decided you didn’t even need a lesson. Don’t you remember that? How much she swooned over your naturally sweet voice?”
Irene watched her sister. “ I remember when Mrs. Brimley came into the drawing room one day to find a toad in her tea.”
Cordelia’s face lit up. “How could I have forgotten?”
Even Duncan, the hard lined Duke who never dared crack a smile, let recognition pass over his face. He leaned against his hand, his gaze flicking between his siblings.
Michael forced himself not to bristle as he watched their interaction. One thing he never had the pleasure of knowing was a familial bond. The passing of his mother was more than just a nurturing woman’s absence from his life. The late Duke stepped back in his position as a father, becoming a hardened warden-like figure instead. Suddenly, everything else in London was more important than having Michael as a son. To watch the Celeston siblings lean on one another through the simplest of actions was a shocking realization to what Michael never had. The faintest idea of having it with Cordelia touched him, and he quickly lurched away from the idea.
No, he thought to himself. Do not be absurd.
Cordelia turned, suddenly facing him. “Our music tutor happened to be rather strict, Michael,” she began, her voice higher with excitement. “You know how children are! Well, Irene had the brightest idea of - “
“Me?” Irene shook her head. “Don’t pin it on me! Duncan -”
Duncan raised his hands defensively. “I was a good child, if you could believe it, Michael.”
Michael’s brow shot up. Beside him, Cordelia gazed up at him, a smile twitching across her lips. For a moment, he was clouded with an emotion he couldn’t understand. The same feeling that once plagued him within the orangery came rushing back, almost knocking him off his seat. It was the feeling of being enamoured, stuck on the beauty of something and unable to look away. Cordelia looked like the blossoming flowers she planted in the orangery: bright with life and sharp.
He bit back the smile that threatened to peak across his face.
“Knowing my wife, I can believe it quite well,” Michael finally said.
Irene chuckled as she raised her glass to her lips.
“Well, now,” Cordelia drawled, her eyes flashing combatively, though it was obviously humorous. “You hardly know Duncan well enough to make such broad -”
“ Cordelia .”
Silence snapped across the table as all the guests turned their attention towards the Countess’s venomous tone. She shook her head ever so slightly, her gaze never once daring to leave Cordelia. The longer she stared, the more Cordelia shrank, her humor quickly dissipating. At the head of the table, the Earl had the same air about him, a disapproving stare holding onto his youngest niece.
“A lady does not allow herself to be so inappropriately excited at a crowded dinner table,” the Countess reprimanded. “Do you not remember your mother’s finest example, may she rest in peace?”
Cordelia held herself up surprisingly well. “No, Aunt. Mother passed away when I was far too young to remember.”
The Countess waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous! If you did not remember the things your mother naturally taught you, that is a crime upon you, not the woman’s fault!”
“Of course it isn’t her fault,” Cordelia said. “That isn’t what I meant at all.”
“Well, if you were a respectable student like either one of your siblings, we wouldn’t be having this discussion, wouldn’t we?” The Countess snapped. She quickly turned her attention towards Michael, a sweet smile hiding the vile whip beneath. “Your Grace, I must apologize for my niece. We pray those childish things she once did are all in the past, don’t we, William?”
The Earl nodded. “Way in the past, your Grace.”
Michael stiffened, unsure of how to proceed. Beside him, Cordelia kept her lips pressed firmly together, though a storm was beginning to brew behind her eyes. “Well,” he finally said, intent on closing the conversation, “I wouldn’t say that -”
“I know how humble you must be, your Grace, like our beloved Irene,” the Countess interjected. “Cordelia was once such a spoiled child, something I’m sure you’ve come across over the past few years. Though I can only imagine that a fine gentleman like yourself with such proper upbringing managed to tame her rather quickly.”
“Aunt Patience!” Cordelia blurted, her eyes wide as a redness swarmed to her cheeks. She glanced sideways at Michal every once and a while, shrinking away any time he met her gaze. “You are embarrassing me!”
The Countess waved her hand in the air between them once more. “I blame the spoiling on her mother, may she rest in peace, your Grace,” she effortlessly continued. “Cordelia was the youngest, after all, and the poor thing was in her later days. Can you imagine having a child demanding things from you at every possible second?” The Countess shook her head with a sigh. “Such a shameful thing.”
“I-I am not spoiled,” Cordelia said in a quiet voice.
Michael remained silent. He doubted it would be too long before Cordelia finally snapped back. It was hard to believe she lasted that long without doing it already, but he couldn’t imagine her staying quiet. She couldn’t. Could she?
“Spoiling a child leads to one thing, and one thing only, your Grace,” the Countess said. She leaned towards him, as if no one else was at the table. “Perpetual disobedience.” She shrugged matter of factually. “Eventually, they believe it is allowed, and are the most disobedient of creatures. Whether it be putting toads in tutors’ tea,” the Countess paused to eye the Celeston siblings, “Or refusing to be the proper lady they were raised to be. Cordelia is a perfect example.”
“You speak as if I am still a child,” Cordelia said, her voice raising ever so slightly. “The disobedience you speak of, Aunt, is -”
“Interrupting your superiors is beyond rude, Cordelia,” the Countess snapped, her brow raised in an angry way. “And you dare to say you are an obedient lady?” She laughed, though it was sharp and without humor. The Countess focused her attention back to Michael. “Honestly, your Grace, I greatly pity the burden placed upon your shoulders in wedding my niece. You are beyond humble to take such a thing on your chest without complaint, your Grace.”
Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted.
“It is the grueling job of the husband to right his wife’s wrongs,” the Countess said. “All along, for years upon years, I told that brother of mine that a swift engagement would end the trials he faced with Cordelia. A husband, one of strength and strong birth, would correct that attitude in a matter of days, I told him. Now, he tried his best with that -”
Cordelia rattled the table as she pushed her seat back, snatching the attention of all the dinner guests. “Aunt Patience,” she snapped, her voice rigid and trembling. “I do not appreciate the manner in which you speak of me in front of my husband.”
“Calm yourself, dear!” The Countess laughed, glancing around the table with her hands out, as if she hadn’t uttered a complaint in the first place. “What point would there be in complaining about the past? It is long gone now, no need to be rude about it!”
Cordelia slumped against her seat in a dejected way. There wasn’t a tear in her eye, but a sort of sadness glazed over her as the conversation carried on around the table. Irene and Duncan hardly said a word, perhaps out of fear of upsetting their wealthy and well liked Countess of an Aunt and Earl of an Uncle. Perhaps they remained silent out of the mere obedience the Countess spoke of. Michael could not deny the morals in which she carried on with. There was a time and place for the petulance Cordelia wielded, though he found it charming, in a way. What was she without it, other than another Lady in a crowd of the Ton?
Michael watched her closely. Any minute now, he figured, she would stand from the table and demand to be excused. She would pull him along with her, marching towards the front door without even gathering her coats. Through rain and storms. Michael watched, but never saw it come into fruition. Cordelia merely listened to the words her Aunt spoke, and took them all like a lashing.
Michael’s brow furrowed as the realization of her silence settled into him. If she refused to stand up for herself at Pembroke, what gave her the courage to stand up to him each and every day? If he dared to utter such things to her, Cordelia would have argued the moment he opened his mouth. Suddenly, she was as frightened as a child, and it gave him a far greater irritation than he thought it would.
“You are right, Aunt,” Cordelia finally said.
Michael hid his shock, though he couldn’t stop himself from eyeing her oddly.
“As I was saying, your Grace,” the Countess continued, “My dear brother, rest his soul, finally listened to my advice when he arranged a courtship between Cordelia and the Earl of Vaun.”
A different sort of quiet took over the table. Irene and Duncan snapped their attention towards their youngest sibling. Cordelia’s crestfallen expression lowered as she stared at her lap. Michael was astonished. This had to have been the time she would stand up for herself. If not now, then when could possibly be a better time?
“And what a pleasurable gentleman that Earl was,” the Countess said.
The Earl nodded alongside her. “Positively fine young Lord, your Grace. If he had remained in London, I’m sure you would have crossed business paths with him.”
Michael pressed his lips together.
“Aunt,” Irene said. “Perhaps we might find better entertainment in a different conversation.”
The Countess ignored her niece. “I cannot begin to voice the disappointment I felt when we saw the story in the papers,” she said, lowering her tone as if it would help the situation. “I know what all those women in the Ton say about the supposed love he found in the country, but I can’t help but believe it was something poor Cordelia had done!”
“Aunt!” Cordelia gasped, her eyes wide. “You can’t possibly -”
“We all knew it, your Grace,” the Countess spoke over Cordelia. “Every last one of us. For the Earl to lose interest in a Celeston Lady, it must have been something she did. And we know her well enough to know such a thing to be true!”
Michael’s brow shot up. He was moments away from turning to Cordelia when the Countess reached for him again, touching his wrist once more.
“Do not mistake me, your Grace,” she said. “We have been blessed by the miraculous appearance you made! Without you, my brother’s children would have been ruined, all because of a silly girl.”
Michael finally looked over at Cordelia. She bit down on her lip fiercely, her brow so wound up that a series of short lines began to wrinkle across her skin. Her mouth trembled as the glossiness in her eyes began to turn into tears, the embarrassment welling up in her gaze. Everything she wished to say came out in an exhale instead of words. Cordelia held herself back, biting down on her bottom lip everytime she made the slightest movement to speak.
The anger boiling beneath Michael’s skin was one he hadn’t felt in a long time. But, suddenly, all he could see was Cordelia being berated, and the effort in which she held her tongue. He wished to grab a hold of her, to tell her to speak and be the stubborn woman he had come to know over the past few weeks.
Instead, Michael faced the Countess, who so foolishly prepared to speak again.
“Everything turned out for the better because of -”
Michael slammed his palms against the table as he shot to his feet, the sudden momentum causing his chair to shuffle backwards and clatter to the floor. “If the Earl was foolish enough not to realize the diamond presented to him those years ago,” Michael snapped, his voice deep and gravely, “That is a consequence he must live with for the rest of his dreadful life.”
“And as for you, Countess,” Michael continued, straightening himself up as he spoke to the shocked woman, “Perhaps you have allowed your oncoming age affect your refined judgement, but any right-minded and clear headed educated person in all of London can take one look at my wife, and see her unstained quality. Only a stubborn fool can insist otherwise.”
The table around him remained stuck in a surprised silence. He stood there quietly for a moment before moving his hands behind his back, and bowing towards the Earl.
“I do believe it is best for my wife and I to retire for the evening,” Michael said. “Cordelia?” He reached a hand out for her.
Hesitantly, Cordelia took his hand and stood from the table, her lips pressed together so hard they lost their naturally red hue. She gave her Aunt and Uncle a short bow before leaving the dining room, joined quickly by Irene. Duncan slowly rose from the table, but did not exit the room. Michael felt his still gaze on the back of his head.
After taking a quick glance over his shoulder, Michael rounded the table, drawing closer to the shocked Countess and Earl.
“Perhaps you might consider us to be bound in a familial way,” Michael began, “But that will hardly change my cadence towards you. Heed my warning now, as this will be the one and only time I am patient enough to so easily hand it over.”
The Countess’s eyes widened in surprise. “Y-Your Grace, we -”
“Insult my wife again,” Michael interjected, “And I will make sure London sees your respectable reputation stripped from you both.” He bowed shortly. “Good evening. Thank you for the invitation.”
Michael spun around on his heel and strode towards the doors. He glanced to his right to see Duncan standing beside the table, his eyes holding onto him closely. Michael paused, bowing to the middle Celeston child. Duncan did the same, and Michael could’ve sworn he saw the slightest bit of a smile on the man’s face.
Feeling oddly pleased with himself, Michael left Pembroke behind, following the path left behind by his wife. She waited for him beside their carriage, whispering quickly to her sister before he had the chance to arrive and overhear.
“Your Grace,” Irene said with a short bow, twisting around Michael the moment he came up to them.
Cordelia gazed up at him.
“What?” Michael snapped, the intensity of her stare bringing a tightness to the center of his stomach. “Why do you watch me like that?”
“Like what?”
Michael hesitated. The words left him instantly. Instead of replying, he sighed and opened the door to the carriage, holding out his hand to help her inside. Cordelia watched him for a moment more before slipping inside, immediately shrouded by the darkness. Michael breathed in a final gulp of air before following, entirely lost by his own thoughts.
And soon, Pembroke was only a distant memory.