Page 2 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

CHAPTER 1

C ordelia lingered outside of the church. Not many people were in attendance at her wedding. It was an affair with incredibly short notice, just under a week from when her Father told her she would be wed. Only her immediate family attended, and she hadn’t seen anyone enter for the groom’s side. It was looking to become an incredibly grim ceremony after all.

Out from the church came Irene, looking as perfect as she always did. The church was within London, and passerby eyed Irene with smiles and polite bows. Irene’s gentle smile never once left her face, not until her gaze fell upon Cordelia.

“We are all waiting on you, sister.”

Cordelia frowned. “Let them wait. This is the rest of my life.”

“You are far too dramatic. Acting as though this is something no other woman your age does.”

Cordelia pulled at the thread in her gloves nervously. “This is incredibly fast, Irene.”

“Sometimes, that is just how it plays out.”

“Can you tell me that my anxieties are nothing more than a fluke, then?”

Irene sighed, finally giving her a small smile. “You are right, Cordelia. The speed of this marriage is something no Lady wants. I feel for you.”

Cordelia bit back a bitter laugh. The words felt hollow, even if Irene didn’t mean for them to be. In the end, Cordelia was expected to march down that aisle with nothing but a pleased smile on her face. She was the reason behind the scandal, according to her father, and it was her responsibility to see it right before it took too much of a hold on their family name. But she had never been someone to easily succumb to the confines of aristocratic society.

“Tell me about the Duke.”

Irene raised a brow. “I know little about him.”

“I have known you all my life, Irene. I think I can tell when you fib or skate by the truth by now,” Cordelia muttered with an arched brow. “You know as much as I that rumors circle the Ton about the Duke of Solshire.”

“Why ask if you already know?”

Cordelia glanced over at her. “I ask for my eldest sister’s support in the next stages of my life,” she said. “Just because I know there are rumors doesn’t mean I know them well.” Taking in a deep breath, Cordelia calmed the raging nerves that threatened to make her burst with anger. The last thing she needed was to drive her sister further away with her rageful tongue. “Do this for me, won’t you, Irene?”

Irene held her hands in front of her and looked around. “Will you go in once I tell you?”

Cordelia nodded. “I promise.”

“His name is Michael Rayson,” Irene said in a quiet voice. “The late Duke of Solshire passed away only recently. The Duke himself is said to be,” she paused, leaning closer to Cordelia’s ear, “A beast, for a lack of better terms.”

“A beast ?” Cordelia repeated. “Father has signed me off to a beast ?”

“Calm down,” Irene snapped. “You said you’d go in once I told you!”

Cordelia looked away, trying to peer into the opened church doors but only seeing shadows and silhouettes. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous or not,” Irene said, grabbing a hold of her wrist, “You promised to go in, Cordelia. Do not -”

“Make another scandal for my family to deal with? Is that what you were going to say?”

Irene sighed. “Do this one thing, Cordelia. Irregardless of the Duke and his beastly ways. Do this for your family, won’t you?”

Cordelia looked away. It felt as though there were two sides of her, one that ached to be accepted and cherished by the family she adored. And the other, the one that craved a future of her own making, something she could build herself from her own desires. She knew long ago that she would never reach the standards Irene had set out before her. She could never be as poise, as gentle, as respectable, as graceful. But perhaps she could do one thing.

“Let’s go, then,” Cordelia said. “I believe I’ve made everyone wait long enough.”

A sweet smile spread across Irene’s face. “Wonderful, sister.” Irene slipped into the church before her.

Cordelia drew in a deep breath to gather her courage and held her head up high. No matter what, she thought to herself, do not forget your confidence. Not even a beastly husband could tie her down, shape her into something she wasn’t. Marriage or not, Cordelia knew herself, and would never once give that up.

As she passed into the church, the room became clear. There were, in fact, not many people attending the ceremony. Irene just slipped back into her seat when Cordelia began to walk down the aisle.

Her curiosity soared higher as her gaze landed on the Duke of Solshire. He was taller than most men she had interacted with, even her father, who normally loomed over her whenever he stood. The Duke’s brown hair rested just below his ears, not too long to be scorned by the Ton’s high standards. He was as broad as he was tall, shoulders reaching out on either side of him.

The closer Cordelia came to the altar, the more she felt the urge to shrink backwards like a frightened animal. Though she wasn’t one to succumb to fear easily, the Duke’s aura radiated in waves, his intimidation and commanding presence incredibly hard to ignore. It was mainly in his narrowed, dark stare, with a tightly furrowed brow. He watched her approach steadily, not once pulling his gaze away. Cordelia held his stare, despite it sending a shocking chill down her back.

Finally, Cordelia stood directly across from him as the rector took his spot in front, beginning to give his remarks to the small congregation. The Duke frown stretched across his face as he turned towards the rector, a distant look in his eyes.

Cordelia quickly forgot her manners. She glanced over at him with any chance she got. Not once did the frown lift from his lips. And down, when she managed to stare at his folded hands, her curiosity grew even more. Small, pale scars lined his hands, striking across his tanned skin like lightning bolts. The artist in her wanted to reach for him, to investigate his hands without a care for decorum.

The Duke’s gaze snapped over to her when she clung to his hands for too long. His frown deepened, if that was at all possible.

Cordelia’s heart beat even faster. Whether it was from embarrassment or the feeling of his hot stare clinging to her, she couldn’t tell. In the end, she called it embarrassment and nothing else. Even when she looked away, focusing back on the rector when he produced simply made wedding rings, the Duke’s observant stare remained on the side of her face.

The ceremony flew by and before Cordelia knew it, all of it was over. Her life was bound to the Duke of Solshire, and suddenly, she had an important title of her own. The scandal that once hung around her neck became a distant memory, the idea of once marrying the Earl of Vaun sounding like someone else’s life.

The moment the rector said his last lines, he gave the Duke a firm nod.

“Very well,” the Duke finally said.

Cordelia raised her ace to him in front of the altar. Somehow, that wasn’t what she expected his voice to sound like. It was gruff, deep, coming from the very depths of his chest. It wasn’t quiet or timid, like she assumed. The Duke spoke like he didn’t want to. Cordelia was so windswept by him that she didn’t even notice his lips moving.

“Are you deaf?”

Cordelia blinked. “I’m sorry?”

He glowered. “At least you aren’t mute,” he muttered, taking a few steps down the aisle. “Say your goodbyes. We leave at once.” And just like that, the Duke stormed down the aisle, shouldering by Cordelia’s lingering family.

Irene approached her first. “Congratulations, Cordelia.”

“I believe it is your Grace now,” she teased.

Duncan scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are the last person I thought would care for titles.”

“I don’t,” Cordelia said with a shrug. “But I thought I’d be more like my family.” The teasing barely touched her brother. He huffed, raising a brow but not daring to laugh.

Solomon walked between her siblings. “If you manage to ruin even this,” he suddenly snapped, “I will no longer consider you to be my daughter.”

Before the words even sunk into Cordelia, he stormed off, staggering down the aisle in the same fashion of the beastly Duke. Duncan reached to give Cordelia a light kiss on the cheek before leaving the church with the rest of them. Irene was the only one to remain, her smile sad and small.

“I will miss your free spirit, Cordelia,” she said.

Cordelia glanced at her. “I’m sure you want to run off as fast as the rest of them.”

Her sister let out a heavy sigh, but did not argue. Irene barely smiled before she followed the rest of the family out of the church. Cordelia remained at the altar a moment longer, staring at the threshold as the Duke’s carriage rolled to a stop at the steps. She breathed in slowly, trying but failing to steady the racing beneath her chest.

Suddenly, the church’s exit was shrouded by an intimidating silhouette. The Duke of Solshire stood there, staring down the aisle at her with a dark and unreadable expression. Even with the distance, and the shadows casting dangerously across his face, Cordelia could not ignore the unusual chill that rolled down her back.

“Wife,” the Duke said, his voice ringing throughout the quiet and empty church. “We leave now.”

Cordelia walked back down the aisle, towards the haunting rest of her life.

* * *

Solshire’s estate was brooding and medieval, something she had never seen before. Spire-like towers rose around the main building, an unkempt garden wrapping around the side. The inside was as bone-chilling as the outside. The walls were painted dark colors, the curtains draped across almost all the windows. Some rooms had white cloths pulled over the furniture, as if they hadn’t been lived in for some time.

Blood red carpets lined some of the hallways, ominous portraits giving off the impression of following Cordelia every time she passed them by. The staff, all with long faces and narrowed eyes, gave her the respect of a Duchess, but nothing more. For the most part, as night fell across Solshire, Cordelia was all alone.

When they arrived at the estate, the Duke clamoured out of the carriage first, extending a hand towards her. Cordelia paused, her hand hovering above his own. Once again, her gaze clung to the odd scars that surfaced his skin. They were like brushstrokes, striking along the divots and natural lines of his palms. She wanted to trace them, to retrieve her canvas and paint the unnaturally large and intimidating shape of his hands.

The Duke suddenly grasped onto her hand.

He’s so cold, was the only thing Cordelia could think as he helped her out the carriage.

He snapped his hand out of her own the moment her feet were on the ground. “The housekeeper will show you to your room,” he said gruffly, his hands tightening and relaxing at his sides repeatedly. The Duke gave her a short bow before storming off in the opposite direction, going nowhere near the estate’s front doors.

“Your Grace,” an older woman said to her right as the footmen carried her trunks out from the carriage. “I am Mrs. Bellflower, the housekeeper. Please follow me.”

“Quite the charming name,” Cordelia said as the housekeeper led her through the estate. She was haunted by the ominous feel of the halls that she craved some sort of discourse to distract her. “Bellflower.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Bellflower said, not once letting up on her speed. “Meadow Bellflowers grew alongside my family home growing up.” She looked over her shoulder. “Not that the two are related, your Grace.”

“Do you know where the Duke has gone?”

Mrs. Bellflower was silent for a moment, slowing down her pace to be more at Cordelia’s side. “I’m afraid I do not, your Grace.”

“Shall I expect dinner with him?”

The housekeeper came to a room, opening the door and glancing over at her with a pitiful smile. “I wouldn’t know, your Grace.”

“Well,” Cordelia said, trying to give her a reassuring smile, “You are the housekeeper, after all.”

Mrs. Bellflower motioned for Cordelia to enter the room. “I will send you word the moment I know, your Grace,” she said. “For now, I hope you will get settled. If there is anything your chambers are lacking, don’t hesitate to let the staff know.” The housekeeper gave her a polite curtsey before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

Cordelia glanced around the room. It was large but still managed to frighten her. “What is it about Solshire,” she murmured to herself as she sulked through the chambers, “That is so unbelievably gloomy?”

Even the furniture, carved from a deeply brown oak, had a somber twist to it. Perhaps she was too used to everything at Darkenhill, where pastel artwork hung on the walls and cherry colored curtains pulled back to let the sterling sun stream in. Speaking of curtains!

Cordelia crossed the room to her window. They were all tall, almost reaching the ceiling, but were covered with the dreary curtains. Even though the sun was beginning to set, she imagined the view was not something to ignore. Cordelia grasped onto the curtains and pulled, releasing a plume of dust into the air.

After a few minutes spent coughing and swiping at the air, Cordelia could finally peer out the window. The view was jaw dropping. As an avid artist, Cordelia saw the world in a different way than most people. She saw the brush of color, the strike of a brush, the flow of a line. It was alluring as it was magnetic. She craved to recreate it, to do it herself across blank canvas. Even then, as she looked over the Dukedom of Solshire, something once so frightening, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope.

“Well,” Cordelia murmured as she pushed open the window, letting the cool early evening breeze into the stuffy room, “I am still quite frightened.”

Something in her gut told her that she wouldn’t be seeing her beastly husband that evening, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Nothing felt ordinary when there was a man like Michael Rayson involved. Cordelia couldn’t recall a time when she came across a Duke like him, who obviously had no intention of staying around people for longer than a moment or two. While, normally, she might find herself feeling the same way, Cordelia was in no way a beastly character.

“No,” she said, firmly into the wind as she leaned out the window. “Though, I am quite worried.”

The door slammed open and smacked noisily against the wall. Cordelia yelped in surprise, teetering on the edge of the window. Fear burst through her as she grasped at the wall, unaware of how close she came to falling out of the bedroom window. As she staggered and gasped in fright, an icy cold hand snatched onto her wrist, tugging her without warning back into the dark room.

Cordelia stumbled forward, her face coming in contact with a sturdy chest. Before she could come to her senses, the same cold hands grasped onto her arms, yanking her off the chest she collapsed upon.

Immediately she was met with the Duke. He loomed over her like a towering statue, his eyes wide and wild with an unmistakable fury. His grip tightened against her as he shook, teeth clenched so hard that the muscles in his face looked taut with tension.

“Have you gone mad ?” he hissed.

Cordelia blinked, too gobsmacked by his sudden presence to respond. “I-I-”

The Duke let out a frustrated groan before releasing his hold on her. He paced the length of the room, his hands trembling at his sides. “You truly are mad, aren’t you?” He shook his head rapidly. “This is the wife I have been granted. A crazed wife. A delusional wife.”

“I beg your pardon!” Cordelia snapped, finally returning to her senses. The cold breeze from the opened window brushed by her hair. “What have I done to earn such an insult from a man I hardly even know?”

“The man you regard so casually is the Duke of this estate!”

“Does that give you the right to barge into my chambers, unannounced?”

The Duke barely looked at her as he paced, his hands unable to stop moving at his sides. He shook his head, lips moving as he muttered under his breath.

“Am I not owed an answer to your intrusion?” Cordelia asked, her voice raising. Not once did she allow herself to be reprimanded in such a manner, Duke or not. “I have done nothing to earn such an unwarranted response, your Grace!”

The Duke spun, suddenly marching towards her with his shoulder hunched like an animal stalking its clueless prey. “I will regard you in any such manner I please,” he snarled. “And as this is my estate, I have no qualms going wherever, even if it means your chambers. Have I made myself clear?”

Cordelia glared. Deep down, fear rumbled in the pits of her stomach. The way he loomed over her was frightening. The word didn’t seem to cover the exact feeling that began to smolder within her chest. Despite it, she kept her head held high, unwilling to succumb to his authoritative tactics.

“I am my own woman,” she replied. “I have boundaries that demand to be respected, even by a Duke. Have I made myself clear, your Grace?”

The Duke’s lips pressed so hard together they turned a shade of white.

Her eyes glanced down to a flutter of movement at his sides. His large, scarred hands could not stop trembling, as if he dove his hands into an icy cold lake.

“Why do you shake like that?” she asked. “Like you are afraid?”

The Duke’s eyes widened in surprise. At his sides, he clenched his hands together, forcing the trembling to hide beneath his skin. Even when he held in his fury, it remained obvious in his dark gaze.

“You will sleep,” he hissed. “You will sleep and leave me be.”

“I haven’t done a thing wrong!”

The Duke stormed towards the bedroom door, not bothering to turn when he said, “Goodnight!” His hand tightened around the knob and slammed as he pulled it shut behind him.

Cordelia ran forward, her hand just inches away from opening the door and yelling after him. She remained there for a few moments, staring at the door and hesitating. The frustration never ceased, not even when she released a heavy sigh and fell into her bed. Everything she felt was clouded by confusion and questions. The Duke was, in fact, a beastly man, but to be so hateful without anything to cause it? It felt outrageously ridiculous, and it happened to be the rest of her life.

Burying her face within the pillows, Cordelia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine the geese from Darkenhill Manor and forget of the dark future she found herself falling into.

* * *

When morning came upon Solshire, Cordelia opened her eyes to a dark and twisted reality. Birds cawed outside the window, but all she craved was to remain within the sheets, refusing to acknowledge the life she found herself in. Even when she tried to tell herself it couldn’t have been all that bad, the moments from the previous evening came rushing back to her, and there was no use in trying to convince herself of otherwise.

“Perhaps,” she said to herself when she finally rose, looking through her trunks for a dress to wear, “I might start anew.”

It didn’t have to be a nightmare. The marriage could’ve been a new beginning, a mutual partnership of freedom. If the Duke regarded her so lowly, perhaps she might spend her time engaged in her art, or whatever else she pleased.

Hope strung within her as she left the bedroom and entered the eerily quiet halls. It was a beautifully gothic manor, something she never experienced before. Not that it was her preferred style, but it felt like she wandered through one of the books she used to read. Even with the addition of the glowering Duke, it felt even more fantastical.

As Cordelia made her way through the halls, peering into rooms, she gathered her spirits up to talk to the Duke.

“I would like to begin anew,” she murmured to herself, practicing the words she wished to proclaim. “I recognize our union can be…is…perhaps a burden, but that does not have to…”

Cordelia turned into a dining room. The round table in the center was delicately decorated, with a single place set up for someone to dine. She stepped within the warm room, glancing around curiously.

“Your Grace.”

She spun around to see an older gentleman standing on the threshold. He dressed as any butler would, with a tidy coat and shined shoes. The man’s face twisted in a sour way, though she didn’t assume him to be a grouchy man. There was something inherently gentle about the way his eyes watched her, but Cordelia blamed that on her ignorant naivety.

“My name is Philip Hunters,” he continued, bowing his head deeply as he pressed further into the room. “I have been the head butler at this estate for quite some time.”

“It is a pleasure, Hunters,” Cordelia replied. “You are the Duke’s butler, then?”

“When he blesses us with his presence, your Grace.”

Cordelia crossed to one of the windows, pulling back the dark curtain to peek outside. “Might you fetch the Duke, then? I would like to speak with him as soon as possible.”

“My apologies, your Grace,” Hunters replied, “But I’m afraid the Duke will not be joining this morning.”

“Later, then?”

Butlers gave her an uncomfortable smile. “I do not believe so, your Grace.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“The Duke has informed me that he will be staying at one of the smaller estates in the dukedom, your Grace.”

Cordelia froze, her hand releasing the curtain. “He is living elsewhere?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

The words Cordelia once thought to give to her husband felt hollow, suddenly. Her chest grew tight from embarrassment, from the butler’s eyes remaining on her. She could not recall Irene or any other Lady for that matter mentioning that sort of action from a husband. Perhaps it was normal. Cordelia glanced over her shoulder at the butler. There was pity in the aged man’s face, in the way his wrinkles lined his eyes and the corner of his frown.

It could not have been normal.

Cordelia rubbed her clammy hands along her skirts, swallowing down the rush of despair that threatened to rock through her. Suddenly, she was left alone in the most somber looking estate in all of England, with not even a husband to keep her company. Her marriage, though only a day long, felt to be more in shambles than the betrothal she had before, with the Earl.

“Very well,” Cordelia finally said as she turned to face the butler. “I suppose we ought to make the most out of it, shall we?”

The butler barely raised a brow.

Cordelia gave him a half smile. “This is the rest of my life, after all.”