Page 18 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

CHAPTER 17

“W e have looked at all the dresses you own, your Grace.” Mrs. Bellflower exasperatedly opened one of the windows, letting in the cool spring breeze till it filled the hot room.

Across Cordelia’s bed was each one of her gowns, all laid out and cast aside. For the last hour or two, the housekeeper pulled the dress forward, showing it to Cordelia till she soundly turned them away. The dresses were too tight, too bright, too flowery or too dark. Not one of them resounded with Cordelia in the way she wanted them too. Even though plenty of them would do perfectly for the garden party they would attend later in the day, Cordelia did not want something that would simply “do.”

“Perhaps we should look through them again,” Cordelia said as she looked over the series of dresses. “Now that they are all out, it won’t be half as tedious, won’t it?”

Mrs. Bellflower sighed as she pulled away from the window. “If you don’t mind me saying, your Grace, you seem to be quite unusually frantic this morning. Are you nervous for the party?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Cordelia replied as she waved her hand in the air, using the other to push through the dresses. “There’s hardly anything to worry about when it comes to the party. Most of the work in tending to the Ton’s rumors has been settled. I barely remember it in the first place.”

“That is very good, your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower said. “Though I suppose it doesn’t quite halt my questioning.”

Cordelia pressed her lips together, keeping her face facing the nosy housekeeper. The night before revealed countless truths that Cordelia found herself incapable of admitting. While she was more than pleased that Michael admitted to her doing nothing wrong that sent him away from the estate on their wedding night, Cordelia was now plagued with the relentless butterflies that filled her stomach at the very mention of his name. Michael looked different in her eyes, suddenly, and the idea of attending a romantic garden party alongside him gave her a thrill she wasn’t expecting.

Suddenly there was the added stress of picking a dress Michael would admire. There was the matter of her hair, and how many pins she should fill it with. She wondered if he would kiss her again, if he would hold her hand, if their eyes would hold each other in a different way than they did before.

Cordelia shook her head. Have I managed to go mad overnight?

To impress a Duke was something Cordelia never prepared herself for. In fact, it had never been a matter of importance in the past. But now, as Mrs. Bellflower tiredly returned to looking through the piles of dresses, Cordelia fought the idea of Michael liking none of them, and her efforts to see him pleased alongside her would fade into nothing. Perhaps he would laugh at her, claim that she managed to take his words too far, that he still planned on leaving once the chance arrived.

Cordelia shook her head another time, desperate to be rid of the thoughts that plagued her so easily. The embarrassment threatened to grab a hold of her tongue, but Cordelia was desperate to share her racing mind with someone, and the only one available to do so with was the housekeeper herself.

“Mrs. Bellflower,” Cordelia began in a quiet voice, “When one realizes they do wish to be bound to their husband in more ways than a simple marriage license, which dress would they wear?”

The housekeeper blinked a few times as she thought the words over, her aged eyes glancing down at the dresses before snapping back up to Cordelia. “Truly, your Grace?” she breathed. “Do you mean to say that the Duke will be staying in Solshire?”

“I cannot promise a single thing,” Cordelia blurted. “I only speak of the trials and tribulations within my own heart.”

Mrs. Bellflower rounded the bed to stand beside Cordelia, taking her hands in the same way a loving mother might hold their child’s hands. “Your Grace,” the housekeeper began excitedly, “If that is the true extent of your feelings, I pray you may gather the courage to voice them to the Duke in the way you voice them to me now.”

“Well,” Cordelia mumbled sheepishly, “I couldn’t possibly -”

“Might I tell you of my late husband, your Grace?”

Cordelia glanced at the housekeeper curiously. “I-I suppose you may, Mrs. Bellflower.”

“Many years ago, when you were still bound to your mother’s bosom, Mr. Bellflower and I had a delightful cottage on the outskirts of London.” A wistful and pleased look took over the older woman’s face as she told her tale. “It wasn’t much at all, but it was ours. I gardened all year long while he made a living as a carpenter. And, despite everything that managed to come our way, we were happy.”

Cordelia leaned against one of the bedposts, unable to take her eyes away from Mrs. Bellflower, even when her face began to grow somber.

“My husband’s final days felt nothing at all like a person’s final days,” she continued. “Everything was as it should’ve been, and not a thing happened to have been out of place. And yet, when the moment came, and his life was returned to God, I could hardly remember the last time I told him I loved him.”

“Oh, Mrs. Bellflower,” Cordelia cooed as the housekeeper began to cry. “What a dreadful and sorrowful thing.”

“It is not his death that haunts me, your Grace, but rather the inability to know if he knew I loved him when the time came for us to part ways,” Mrs. Bellflower murmured. “That is what I fear for you. While it is not in the extreme of my late husband, it is still a dreadful problem all the same.”

“I cannot imagine saying such a thing without knowing the Duke feels the same.”

“How would you ever know if you don’t try?”

Cordelia hesitated. “H-How do I know it is the right way forward? I am terribly embarrassed, Mrs. Bellflower, for my childish need to impress him by what dress I wear. And when I realize it was all for not - what happens then? When he still leaves at the end of the day?”

Mrs. Bellflower sighed, returning to running her hands across the series of dresses. “I cannot tell you the answer, your Grace, for it lies within you, and only you. Love is about taking a leap of faith into the unknown. You will never know until you try.”

Cordelia turned to look over the dresses. Perhaps she had been mistaken about her own feelings, and what she felt now, was merely a kindness she believed Michael deserved. Cordelia strode forward, stepping into the closet where she kept all of her heart supplies. Canvases she worked on previously but didn’t have the determination to finish were stored alongside the paints and brushes. The projects she was working on remained out within the room, standing upright on easels and waiting to be finished.

Cordelia dug through the closet till she procured a recently finished painting. Stepping back into the light, Cordelia placed it open an easel, and stepped backwards to take it all in.

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower breathed from behind her, “That’s -”

“Michael.”

The painting was a stunning replication of the Duke, entirely done from memory. Cordelia avoided sleep for far too long the previous night in order to finish it. Now that the paint had all dried, the painting had a new sort of look to it, one that was entirely more permanent. The portrait captured Michael’s intensive stare, his jutting brow, his shrouded eyes. A delicate shadow rested across his jawline, the classic black coat it wore pulled up around his neck. Cordelia reached, the tips of her fingers tracing along the grooves of his face.

Even then, with only a painting of him in front of her, Cordelia felt short of breath at the sight of him. She began to imagine a life where Michael remained by her side, and they continued their days out in Solshire together. Perhaps he might help her in the gardens or lounge while she painted in the orangery. They would attend London’s social season side by side, or chose to ignore it all together. The future she imagined teased her forward, as if the portrait had been Michael himself.

Cordelia pulled her gaze away. Perhaps the feelings she had were not a fluke after all. After everything, Cordelia finally realized the truth she wished to bury deep within the confines of her heart. She had undeniable and unavoidable feelings for Michael, and the thought of him turning away from her once more drove a fear into her chest unlike never before. As long as she did not give him the impression of doing something reckless, he wouldn’t feel inclined to leave. If she showed him how much she wished for his presence, perhaps Michael could admit his own feelings.

“Mrs. Bellflower,” Cordelia began, slowly looking towards the housekeeper, “I -” She paused when she realized the woman had tears streaming relentlessly down her cheeks. Cordelia twisted to face her, reaching out to swipe her finger across the housekeeper’s face. “Whatever is the matter, Mrs. Bellflower?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a work of art so beautiful that it manages to bring you to tears?”

“Why, yes,” Cordelia replied. “Though I can hardly believe that you cry over one of my paintings.”

Mrs. Bellflower’s shoulders raised. “How could I possibly not? The likeness is practically fiction. I hadn’t even realized the Duke had been posing for you, your Grace.”

A blush burnt across Cordelia’s cheeks. “He hasn’t the foggiest idea I have done this painting, Mrs. Bellflower.”

“That’s impossible!” The housekeeper shook her head. “You couldn’t have completed this from memory alone, could you?”

Cordelia shrugged, fiddling with her hair sheepishly. “I hardly believed it myself,” she murmured. “I usually have some sort of focus when I paint, but this portrait came rather naturally.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “Is that odd, Mrs. Bellflower?”

“I would have to say so, your Grace,” she said. “Though I mean it in the most complimentary way possible. This is an extraordinary gift, your Grace! I do believe you managed to capture the Duke in a way we haven’t seen in quite a long time.”

“Really?” Cordelia’s curiosity caused her to lean towards the housekeeper. “And in what way would that be?”

Mrs. Bellflower smiled widely. “Content, your Grace.”

Cordelia faced the portrait once more. She couldn’t see a smile on Michael’s face, no matter which way she leaned or stood. Though, the housekeeper would know him better than she, so Cordelia decided against arguing.

“Have you considered giving the portrait to the Duke?”

Cordelia’s brow shot up. “I haven’t, actually. Do you take it to be a good present, Mrs. Bellflower?”

“I do not see why not,” she replied. “It is too well done to be ridiculed or tossed away, your Grace. I believe the Duke would appreciate it more than you may realize.”

Cordelia decided she would consider it, though she couldn’t imagine truly handing the portrait over. Perhaps she liked it too much, or was too embarrassed to think about sharing it with Michael after all. Turning back towards the dresses, Cordelia swallowed down her nerves. The only way forward, to the future she so desperately wanted to grab a hold of, was through courage. Cordelia needed to fill herself with self-confidence, to believe that whatever she wore or however she presented herself would end with Michael pleased to be by her side.

“What of this yellow one?” Cordelia pulled a light dress from the pile, holding it up in front of her for the housekeeper to see. “Spring enough for the garden, but flattering at the same time, no?”

Mrs. Bellflower’s smile grew till she was beaming from ear to ear. “It is perfect, your Grace. You must get ready at once!”

Rushing with a new sense of urgency, Cordelia changed into the yellow gown and sat to have her hair done. Mrs. Bellflower worked quickly behind her, twisting and pinning Cordelia’s curls till there wasn’t a single strand covering her face. As she looked at herself in the mirror, Cordelia felt her security wither. There were plenty more beautiful things to see in a garden than herself. And Michael arranged their attendance in order to finally squash the rumors against them once and for all.

Would he even pay her any mind, or would he be too engrossed with convincing the Ton of their companionship rather than actually having a companionship?

Cordelia shoved the thoughts away. They were hardly relevant now that she was dressed and ready to go. She rose from her seat to stand in front of the housekeeper, her arms outstretched to either side of her.

“Well?” she asked. “How do I look?”

“Beyond the descriptions of words,” Mrs. Bellflower cooed. “Absolutely beautiful, your Grace.”

Cordelia felt herself smile broadly. “Well, now, then, I -”

Knock! Knock!

The rush of quick, short knocks was followed by the door opening up a crack.

“Your Grace?” Hunters whispered into the room.

Cordelia crossed the room to pull the door open fully. “What on earth is the matter, Hunters?”

“Have you seen the time, your Grace?” he asked before raising his pocket watch, the hands slowly ticking. “I am afraid you are running the risk of arriving late, your Grace!”

“Oh, devils !”

Cordelia whipped around for her gloves before frantically glancing around for her fan but coming up empty handing.

“What surprising language, your Grace,” Hunters teased, another rare smile slipping across his face.

“Your Grace!” Mrs. Bellflower, like an angel, swooped in front of Cordelia with the fan in hand, holding it out for her. “Hurry, now!”

Excitement mixed with an unpleasant surge of nervousness swirled in Cordelia’s stomach. She could hardly remember the last time she felt that way. Anticipation for one thing, but dreadfully afraid about another. The idea of seeing Michael so soon after their tumultuous day beforehand was entirely thrilling. Cordelia’s slew of newly realized feelings rushed her out the door, carrying her down the hall as she ran towards Michael.

At the same time, questions blared across Cordelia’s mind. How will her life look in the coming weeks? What would life be like beside Michael if he remained in Solshire? Could Cordelia be faced with a happiness she never thought she had the chance of receiving?

Cordelia grew so overwhelmed with emotion that she could hardly see where she was going. She merely flew ahead, eagerly and restlessly awaiting the man she had grown to dislike as much as she was intrigued.

Whipping around a corner, Cordelia grew intensely lightheaded, the world around her growing unbearable foggy for a split second. When she regained herself, about to walk the rest of the way, Cordelia slammed against a hard and warm surface, a resounding grunt vibrating across her face.

Oh, devils.

“Who runs indoors?” Michael snapped, his voice deep and tense.

Cordelia staggered as she took in her surroundings, suddenly aware of the fact that she gripped onto Michael’s coat rather tightly. His hands hovered over her waist, his palm accidentally brushing against her side every once and a while. Each time he managed to touch her, Cordelia’s heart beated faster and faster.

She pulled her gaze up towards him. An unmistakable red hue began to crawl across Michael’s face. It snuck up around his collar before following the grooves and tendons in his neck, and swallowing his entire face whole. The deeply unforgiving color began to spread to his forehead when Cordelia realized what was happening.

Cordelia took a step backwards, releasing her hold on him though she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to. “It’s rather fun.”

“What is?” Michael blinked rapidly as he gained control of his blushing.

“Running indoors!”

Michael finally met her gaze again, his mouth twitching between a smirk and a frown. “You’re dreadfully late,” he suddenly said.

“Hunters told me,” she replied.

“I happened to tell him quite long ago, you know. It’s why I began to come up myself. I thought you managed to wrap him up in whatever was already making you late.”

Cordelia raised a brow. “What could I possibly be doing that manages to involve Hunters?”

“Perhaps you wished to make him the focus in one of your upcoming paintings.”

She gawked, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she realized he was only fooling around. “My, my,” she drawled, “I never realized the beastly Duke happened to be a tease.”

Michael smirked. “What if I was serious? How would poor Hunters feel knowing you wouldn’t paint him?”

“I’d gladly paint Hunters, thank you very much,” Cordelia snapped, raising her nose obnoxiously towards him.

Michael let out a loud laugh, one that filled the entire hallway.

The last time he had laughed was at the ball and they danced together. Cordelia thought of that moment often, she realized, once he laughed a second time and she already knew the sound by heart. For a second, Cordelia assumed she heard it in her own head, as if she wanted to imagine him laughing at their bantering. She gazed up at him with a growing smile as the emotion remained on his face, the laughter still evident around his eyes.

It was a beautiful sight, one that Cordelia was nowhere near intending to be rid of.

Michael cleared his throat. “I believe we will be quite late at this point.”

“Perhaps that would be better.”

“And how might you suppose that?”

Cordelia shrugged as she began to continue down the hallway, Michael respectively beside her. She willed herself to ignore the feeling of her arms brushing against each other. “It will give the Ton something else to talk about,” she replied. “The couple that was so lost in love they forgot to check the time. It is practically Shakespearan.”

Michael chuckled. “Then,” he paused, his breath stammering, “Perhaps we should take our time to convince them further.”

As Cordelia walked alongside him the rest of the way through the estate, neither one of them spoke. There was a lulling calm between them, all the way a bouncing energy grew larger and grander with every step they took. Cordelia tried to focus on her footsteps, but could only think of Michael’s hand continuously brushing against her own, the jutting scars pulling shudders out of her back. And there was the neverending need to have him plant another kiss on her lips, the phantom feeling of the first one still lingering in the back of her mind.

Cordelia, overcome with emotion, followed Michael out the front doors and to the awaiting carriage. He helped her inside before getting in himself, and Cordelia caught a glimpse of the cloudless sky behind his head. When the carriage door snapped shut, she pinned the curtains to the sides, her eyes falling upon Mrs. Bellflower waving at the bottom of the steps. The words the housekeeper spoke came flooding back to her, filling her with an even deeper emotion that she could still hardly understand.

Love is about taking a leap of faith into the unknown.

You will never know until you try.