Page 17 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

CHAPTER 16

T he carriage compartment was a rather small thing, but it grew even tighter the moment the door snapped shut, and the driver began to press forward towards Solshire. Cordelia could feel every movement in her chest, how it rose and fell greatly, how she felt as though she might’ve started gasping for air at any second. She was never one to feel as though the walls were caving in on her, but the childish fear came upon her in a quick second, like she had lived with it all her life.

Her eyes snapped over to Michael. He looked like the statues within the orangery, incredibly still and on alert. Michael focused his gaze on the space directly across from him, not once looking any other way. Cordelia opened her mouth multiple times, eager to speak but only finding silence instead. No matter how much she wished to thank him, to implore as to what he was feeling or why he decided to defend her in the first place, Cordelia could hardly bring herself to speak.

A trait that happened to be very unlike her.

Cordelia shifted in her seat to look out the window before scooting again, her hands finding the strand she had been pulling on before the dinner party. She yanked on it once and then again, pulling the work to bind the dress together apart without even realizing it.

“You are fidgeting,” Michael suddenly said.

Cordelia stared at the side of his face. “Does it bother you?”

“Would you stop if I told you it did?”

“Well,” Cordelia paused, thinking about what she should say, despite the true answer resting on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, she thought Aunt Patience lingered around her still, ready to clap down on her the moment she acted like a petulant or disobedient child. Cordelia smirked. Her Aunt wasn’t around at all. “I probably wouldn’t.”

Michael finally met her stare. “Back to your normal self, aren’t you?”

“I suppose,” she murmured.

He looked away again.

“Michael,” Cordelia began, her courage gathering, “I wanted to -”

“We shall arrive back in Solshire soon,” he blurted, cutting her off instead. “I have plenty of work to be done in the morning, and will need it to be an early night.”

Cordelia pressed her lips together. The reasoning behind his outburst at the dinner hung in the air between them. She didn’t realize how desperate she was to know why he had said such things until he refused to speak, till he cut her down before she ever had the chance. Cordelia leaned against the carriage door, holding back the curtain to get a glimpse at London passing by. The rain had simmered to a light trickle, barely making a sound as it hit the carriage’s rooftop.

An uneasy silence settled between them for the rest of the ride back to Solshire. Cordelia ruminated over the words her Aunt said, how easily it was for her to fall back into the mindset of Cordelia being the obviously lesser child. Insecurities and fears she left behind were suddenly rushing back to her, and now there was the added fright of her husband feeling the same way. Perhaps he defended her out of pity, not wanting to have to deal with a crying and sad wife all the way home.

Unanswered questions hovered in the air around them as the carriage came to a stop in front of Solshire. Hunters met the carriage as it paused at the front steps. He opened the doors, and Michael shot out from the compartment. Cordelia quickly climbed out next, surprised not to see him waiting with his hand outstretched like he normally did.

Michael, in the distance, stormed up the stairs that led into the estate’s front doors, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides with every step he took. Within a moment, he was gone behind the doors.

“Your Grace,” Hunters greeted her with a long bow. “How was your dinner party? You have returned earlier than expected.”

Cordelia sighed. “Rather dreadful, Hunters. Thank you for asking.” She began to walk up the steps, quickly hearing the sound of the butler following close beside her.

“I suppose that is why the Duke ran off so fast?” Hunters asked.

Cordelia shook her head. “I hardly know.”

“But -”

Pausing at the top of the steps, Cordelia pulled her cloak off, following next with her gloves. She barely cared for decorum, to wait to place them somewhere, to wait till she was inside. Cordelia lacked the patience, and the heart to do so. Her gaze fell on the butler, surprised to see the slightest bit of concern pass his normally expressionless eyes.

“Perhaps the Duke faced some harsh realities about his wife,” Cordelia snapped, “And has decided to leave at once than to stay alongside me for another second.”

“I cannot believe that to be true, your Grace.”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “He has left before, hasn’t he?”

Hunters hesitated. “That was a different time, your Grace. Do you not think you owe him the patience of talking rather than assuming the worst?”

“Is it possible to not have any patience left?”

Hunters frowned. “For someone as young as you, hardly not!”

“The Duke has made his intentions clear,” Cordelia said, though the words drove a driving pain through her chest. “He did the honorable thing and defended his wife when the time came. Though you and I both know, Hunters, that he could hardly deny the words spoken by my Aunt.” Cordelia turned away, shaking her head. “He could not even deny them to my face.”

“What exactly happened, your Grace?”

Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose to silence the rush of emotion that threatened to cascade as tears down her cheeks. “My Aunt discussed my childhood,” she explained. “Called me disobedient and spoiled. Though they were mounting flaws, they could be squashed by the right husband, she claimed. After accusing me of doing something to turn my previous betrothal away, my Aunt went on to congratulate and thank the Duke on saving the Celeston family from complete ruin. It was then that Michael ceased to allow the conversation to continue, and announced our departure.”

If Hunters was surprised by the events that unfolded at Pembroke, he worked well not to show it. Rather, the butler simply crossed his arms behind his back, listening to the recountment with a single, burly eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps, your Grace, you might be inclined to offer the Duke the benefit of the doubt.”

Cordelia gawked. “Whatever for? He left, Hunters. If he so willfully disagreed with the things my Aunt said, why leave in the first place?”

“Have you ever asked him, your Grace?”

She frowned. “Asked him what?”

“ Why he left on your wedding night?”

“Well, no,” she mumbled. “Not entirely.”

Hunters took a few steps closer to her. “If you might allow me to be bold, your Grace,” he said, “You might regret it if you chose not to go to him this very evening.”

“Hunters, I -”

“If not at least to offer your graciousness in his change of heart,” Hunters continued. “To repay him for defending you, your Grace.” He pressed on further still, taking a few steps to lower his voice as servants moved about in the foyer. “How might you ever expect to know the truth of the Duke’s feelings if you are not brave enough to ask, your Grace?”

Cordelia watched the butler as he raised his shoulders. Before she could argue, offer up another reason as to why she couldn’t go to him, the butler turned around, and returned to the rest of the staff. Quickly, she was alone with her thoughts, and every single one of them told her which way to go. Breathing in a deep breath, Cordelia began to slowly make her way through the estate, approaching the wing she had never gone to: Michael’s chambers.

Even though she wanted to prove the butler to be wrong in all senses of the term, Cordelia could hardly find anything to strengthen her argument. After everything, Michael deserved her thanks. She lost her voice during that dinner, when her Aunt pushed to a height she did not expect. The moment Colin, the Earl, had been mentioned, Cordelia lost every bit of the fight she once had. The words reminded her of the ones her father said, how he held her in such disdain after the failed engagement, and quickly thrusted her into another one. It was too familiar, and it drove her back effortlessly.

Cordelia was soon in the hall outside of Michael’s chambers. She hesitated at the door, at first believing it to be empty, till she heard movement on the other side. Rapping her knuckles against the wood, she wrapped a hand around the knob, and slowly pushed it open.

Michael had his back facing the door when she first entered. He seemed to have thought her to be a servant at first, absentmindedly waving a hand over his shoulder as he read over some papers across his writing desk. Cordelia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, her eyes eagerly taking in his room without managing to utter a single word.

“What is it?” Michael seethed as he whipped around. “ Oh. ”

Cordelia’s eyes went wide.

Without his coats, Michael’s simple shirt breathed with every movement. The first few buttons were popped open, revealing a few patches of wispy hair and brilliantly pale white scars. The black shirt was puffy and voluminous without the coat to keep it down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Cordelia couldn’t tear her eyes away. There were scars across every inch of his deeply tanned skin and dark strands of hair. To see more of him felt like a blessing, something granted to her while it had turned many people away before.

Cordelia swallowed. Why did I come here in the first place?

“Is something the matter?”

She shook her head. “Quite the opposite, really.”

“Alright,” he murmured. Michael shifted between his feet, eyes snapping around.

Nerves, Cordelia quickly realized. To see her husband in such a state was hard to swallow. She didn’t know he was capable of showing fear or nerves whatsoever. Cordelia lowered her head, realized she was staring far too much.

“You ran away so fast,” she finally said, “That I never had the chance to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

Cordelia stepped further into the room. “For standing up for me against my Aunt. I’m sure it was hardly the way you planned on spending the evening.”

Michael nodded curtly. “You bare my name, and I haven’t before let a stranger put my name down.”

“Oh,” she murmured. Perhaps he had only intervened out of duty. Aunt Patience pressed too far for what was politely allowed, and Michael felt inclined to step forward. Holding back her disappointment, Cordelia was near ready to walk out of the room without another word, but she stopped herself.

The moment they had shared in the orangery came flooding back to her. A prickling sensation rippled across her lips as she remembered their passionate kiss and the desperation behind it. She never realized how much she craved his hands around her till they were taken away, till she believed she would never feel them again. The true things she wished to say bounced around on her tongue, tempting dangerously to be set free in the quiet room.

I do not regret a single thing from our time in the orangery, was the thought it all came back to. And, of course: I pray you do not regret it, too.

The most sensible thing to do would have been to walk away. Cordelia did what was necessary by expressing her gratitude. A simpler woman would have left it at that, and left him along for the rest of the evening. A more respectable woman would silence her thoughts right then and there, not daring to step over an unseen line and press where she shouldn’t press. But, as Cordelia remained in his bedroom, she was stuck to the floor, overcome with the overwhelming sensation to be as close to him as she possibly could.

“Do we have another event already planned?” Cordelia suddenly asked.

Michael avoided holding her gaze. “I have sent word of our attendance to a garden party happening later this week in London,” he explained. “I believe your sister will be attending.”

“How wonderful,” Cordelia whispered breathlessly.

He nodded firmly, clamping his mouth shut and not saying another word.

Cordelia’s gaze ran around his room. There were countless books upon even more shelves. An untidy desk that carried more books than one man could possibly read in a single lifetime. His bed, put together rather nicely, had dark sheets over it. Dark curtains that she had once replaced were pulled tightly over the windows, though she was sure that the bedroom had a beautiful view of the nearby lake.

Michael’s entire life, all of his thoughts, secrets, and memories, were kept in that bedroom. Cordelia ached to peel him back and see what truly laid within, to know why he was the man he was, to understand the being she found herself to be completely enamoured with. Cordelia breathed deeply, desperate to contain her racing thoughts. The only way forward was to be true to herself. If Hunters’s insistence on the matter showed her anything, it was the impertinent need for Cordelia to express the things she wished to know.

No more questions with empty answers.

“Michael,” she said, stepping closer to where he stood in the middle of the room, “I do not wish to plague you more than I already have, but…I need to know why you left on our wedding night.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Before he could respond, Cordelia carried on. “All this time, I went on believing it was something I had done,” she explained. “Like my previous engagement, I must have done something to have pushed you away, despite only knowing each other for hours.”

Michael’s head tilted, his lips parting to speak, but not a word managing to come out.

“You claim to have defended me in order to protect your own name, but I cannot seem to believe that,” Cordelia continued. “If not for my unladylike behavior, my stubbornness, by strong will, then why did you leave? If you truly do believe my Aunt to have been wrong in the things she said, then why did you leave?”

In front of her, Michael’s hands twitched and trembled. He inched forward before jolting backwards, barely staying in one place for longer than a few seconds. Michael looked away, his jaw tense and obviously clenched.

Cordelia stood in the silence, watching his body jerk around but hearing not a single word. The hope she felt for a companionship slowly trickled out the door. What on earth was she thinking? Since when had Michael given her the time of day before? If he could have told her why he left in the first place, he would’ve done it weeks ago. Perhaps he would offer up a blatant lie, or tell her the truth that she dreaded to hear.

Pressing her lips together, Cordelia took a few steps away from him. It was growing clear that he had no intentions of truly speaking to her. Cordelia breathed sharply, ignoring the pain that began to fester in the center of her chest, over the space where her heart was frantically beating.

Without bothering for politeness or decorum, Cordelia turned around, and began to head for the door. The last thing she needed to do was to embarrass herself further. Besides, at least she could track down Hunters and gloat about how quickly she proved him wrong, though the idea of doing such a thing seemed rather pathetic itself. Cordelia was reaching for the door when Michael jerked forward and snatched onto her wrist.

Frozen in place, Cordelia could hardly gather the strength to look over her shoulder at him. His shadow crossed over her as she stood there, his fragrant cologne wafting over her the closer he came. Michael’s shallow breathing mixed in with her own, the ball of tension growing wider and wider and swallowing them both up in the process.

Michael pulled at her hand ever so slightly. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Cordelia repeated. “What on earth was there to be afraid of?”

“Could you -” he paused and all she heard was his slow, trembling breathing for a moment. “Could you turn around?”

Gulping down her nerves, Cordelia turned to face him. The grooves of the scars along his palm rubbed against her bare hand, but it was, surprisingly, not uncomfortable. She raised her head to see him looking down at her, his lips pressed together in a hard line.

“I came to the conclusion you were on the verge of forcibly ending your own life,” Michael said, speaking so quietly that she could hardly hear him. “When you were standing in the window. I saw as I rode towards Solshire, and -” Michael stopped himself, turning his head away sharply. “And I was frightened by it.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Cordelia shook her head, her eyes falling to stare down at their intertwined hands. “Why would I do such a thing? Take my life in such a dreadful way?”

Michael sighed. “Do you think I was unaware of the fact that you had been pulled into a marriage you did not want?”

Cordelia’s eyes widened. “I -”

“I told you before, Cordelia, why I rushed into a marriage with a Lady I had never courted,” Michael explained. “Does that rid me of my conscience? Of the awareness of the life I took from you? The future you might have been dreaming of? Am I wrong to have believed that to be reason enough to take such drastic measures with someone’s own life?”

The shock of his reason still rattled her. Cordelia would have never guessed it to have been a reason. Out of all the things she believed, that harshly real explanation was too grandiose to have been false. No one of their right mind would make up such a thing, and Cordelia scorned herself for believing him to have been a liar, to have had a terrible truth that would’ve thrusted her head first into an unbelievable despair.

Cordelia fought the urge to touch his face.

“The fault of my absence these past few years lies with me and me alone,” Michael added. “Do not carry that burden on your shoulders for any longer. I hope you might forgive me for making you hold it in the first place.”

Cordelia’s heart softened even further, if that was at all possible. The elation she felt from their kiss in the orangery came surging back to her chest. Suddenly, she wanted to stand on the tips of her toes to get closer to him, to angle her face up and invite him down for another kiss. Somehow, the hardened beast of a Duke managed to wrap his way around her heart, and only further intertwined himself with her rather than drive them deeper apart.

“Do you still believe that to be true?” Cordelia whispered.

“What?”

“That I might turn to those drastic measures. Do you still fear it?”

Michael searched her eyes, as if he searched for the answer right then and there. Finally, after a long pause, the tension crept out from his jaw, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “No,” he murmured. “I do not believe I do.”

Cordelia let a small smile cross her face. “Then I am happy.”

Taking in a deep breath, Cordelia let herself pull her hand out of his own. Giving him a short bow, she turned around, and slipped out of his chambers, gently closing the door behind her. She raised her hand, dragging her fingers across her lips. Perhaps the Duke was an entirely different man after all, not at all what the Ton had originally made him out to be. Or, on the other hand, he was the beast they knew him as, and it was only Cordelia’s arrival that helped him to ease the tension that clouded his heart.

Either way, Cordelia was quickly aware of two things. The first was that there was something brewing within her in regards to Michael. The man she once viewed as a hindrance, a figure standing in the way of all the work she had done on the estate, was nowhere near that any longer. Instead, he was Michael, her husband. Michael, the man who lived down the hall. Michael, the once beastly Duke who now so readily held her heart.

Secondly: she wished he could have kissed her again.