Page 21 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)
CHAPTER 20
C ordelia rose with the sun the next morning. The evening was restless and unsure, but the moment her eyes popped open, adrenaline rushed through her limbs, pulling her out from beneath the silk sheets. Butterflies swirled through her stomach, an eagerness to get ready for the day almost overwhelming her. It had been so long since she felt such a surge of life through her, an incandescent need to see the husband she once so readily scorned.
Mrs. Bellflower rapped her knuckles against the door before slipping inside. The expression on her face contorted into surprise when she noticed how Cordelia was already rising from her bed.
“Dear me, your Grace!” The housekeeper went to the windows, pulling the curtains to the sides and tying them together. “I hardly expected to find you already awake. Are you well, your Grace?”
“More than well.” Cordelia stretched high above her head before crossing to the window, popping open the glass to breathe the morning air in. “Isn’t it a beautiful day outside, Mrs. Bellflower?”
She nodded. “An incredibly pleasant morning, your Grace. Shall I prepare you for a morning stroll? Perhaps breakfast in the orangery?”
“While that all sounds very lovely, Mrs. Bellflower, I believe I’d much prefer to have a morning with my husband.”
The housekeeper paused in front of Cordelia’s wardrobe, her attention piqued curiously. “Indeed, your Grace.” She pressed her lips together, keeping the words she wished to say trapped behind her teeth.
Cordelia watched the curiosity sink into Mrs. Bellflower’s skin. She let out an airy laugh as she sat at the windowsill, the morning breeze slipping through her long hair like hands. “Is there something else you wish to ask, Mrs. Bellflower?”
She glanced around before rushing towards Cordelia, a few dresses already draped across her arm. The eagerness in her eyes flared as her voice lowered, as if there was someone else who could possibly over hear their conversation.
“I am beyond pleased at the sound of you and His Grace setting aside your differences to settle in Solshire,” Mrs. Bellflower said with a raised brow, “If that is indeed the case?”
Cordelia felt the smile tug at her lips before she realized she was doing it. Looking away, she covered her mouth sheepishly, growing red beneath the housekeeper’s persistent and eager gaze. “After recent events,” she began, “I believe that might be where we are headed.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Bellflower drawled, placing a weak hand over her bosom, “How delighted I am to hear such a thing, your Grace!”
“Truly?”
“Your Grace, the light you have shone upon Solshire is something we have not seen in years,” Mrs. Bellflower blurted, her eyes wide and glossy. “Whether or not you see it yourself, your Grace, you must know that you have made a change here. A change that cannot easily be undone.”
Cordelia watched the housekeeper with parted lips. Despite living at the estate for a few years, she hadn’t heard such an outburst before from Mrs. Bellflower. In fact, it took almost an entire year to gain the respect and trust of the estate’s original staff, including the housekeeper and the butler, Hunters. Even though they opened their arms to her eventually, there was something far more gratifying about the words Mrs. Bellflower said.
Everything she had done brightened Solshire. To press even further, Cordelia supposed she managed to shine a light upon Michael, too. And after the garden party, the interaction she had with her husband seemed to prove another thing. Talking to Colin drove a fiery jealousy through him. One that pulled him to take her hand in his own, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive skin on her wrist. The feeling remained with her still, despite an entire night spent apart. She touched the spot he once held.
Perhaps the future she once envisioned for herself was not as far away as she assumed it was. Although she was more than willing to settle for a friendship and nothing more, Cordelia could not pull the smile from her lips. There was something more on the horizon. There just had to be.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower said in a quiet voice, pulling Cordelia out of her reverie.
“Hm?”
The housekeeper had laid the dresses along the bed while Cordelia was lost in her thoughts, and had returned to the closest to retrieve something else. Resting in her arms was the portrait Cordelia had done of Michael, the likeness striking her suddenly, as if he had been within the room the entire time. But then she noticed her familiar handiwork, and pushed herself off the windowsill.
“My painting,” she murmured, tracing her fingertip along the striking line of his jaw.
“Perhaps now might be the time to deliver this to His Grace.”
Cordelia’s brow furrowed. “Of that, Mrs. Bellflower, I am unsure.”
“Why?” Mrs. Bellflower lowered the painting to take a look at it herself, a smile immediately slipping across her face. “It is too lovely to be left in the dark of the closest, your Grace.”
“Do you not find it odd?”
“What, your Grace?”
Cordelia sighed. “To present Michael with a gift such as this.” She shook her head. “Who’s to say he would like the piece, anyhow? Has he shown an affinity for art before?”
Mrs. Bellflower let a smirk begin to crawl across her face, looking rather proud of what she was about to say. “Perhaps he hasn’t,” she replied, “But he has shown an affinity for you , hasn’t he, your Grace?”
Cordelia’s eyes widened. Had Michael truly expressed an interest in Cordelia, one that she had failed to recognize? No, she told herself. He disappeared for years, but… He was swayed by her in the end. The original intention of his arrival to Solshire seemed to trickle away, leaving only a more personal reason for his stay at the estate. Perhaps he remained for her, and her alone. Cordelia reached for the painting, holding it close to her chest.
“Answer me honestly, Mrs. Bellflower.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
“Would he,” her voice trailed off, embarrassment she was not used to feeling threatening to climb up her throat. She inhaled deeply, calming the rush of butterflies that swarmed through her stomach once more. “Would he like it?”
Mrs. Bellflower’s aged face softened. “I truly believe so, your Grace. But,” she paused, gesturing towards the dresses she had already laid out, “You might never know until you see him.”
With a newfound burst of energy, Cordelia placed the painting aside and began to get dressed for the day. Each passing minute meant another second closer to seeing Michael. She chose a baby blue dress for that day, one that was light and simple but fit her extraordinarily well. In the past, she might’ve scoffed and huffed at the idea of dressing for another person, with the intention of impressing them towards her favor. And yet, as she glanced at herself in the mirror, noticing how flushed her cheeks were, Cordelia couldn’t imagine doing anything else than that.
“Shall you bring the portrait with you, your Grace?”
Cordelia shook her head as she walked to the door. “Perhaps you might bring it along with you,” she said. “Later, once we have spoken.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
Gathering up herself, Cordelia left her bedroom behind, making her way down towards the dining room. The closer she went, the more excited she became, her prospects looking brighter than they ever had before. A brighter future stared back at her, one that could be life long and as gratifying as she yearned for it to be. A few members of staff were trickling out of the room when she came upon it, slipping around them and over the threshold.
The room was full of morning light. Breakfast filled the round table, freshly squeezed orange juice already set at her spot. Cordelia’s smile was as bright as the sun as she laid her eyes upon Michael. He sat at his regular spot at the table, his plate pushed aside as he diligently wrote a letter. The sound of his quill scratching against the papers filled the air as she inched closer.
“Good morning, Michael,” Cordelia finally said, straightening out her skirts at the same time.
Lifting his head, Michael’s dark eyes found hers instantly. A frown was already on his lips, and it tugged further down the longer he stared. “Good morning,” he said. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured at the chair across from him, as though she was nothing more than a guest.
Cordelia, feeling slightly stunted by his cold demeanor, kept the smile on her face as she did as he said. Her eyes lingered on the papers he worked on, but the angle was too obscured by the plates of food and his glass. Curiosity nipped at her, but she remained quiet, her eyes holding onto him eagerly.
“You have played your part well.”
Cordelia’s brow rose. “My part?”
“In our efforts to diminish the rumors surrounding our names.” Michael finally set his quill down, letting his serious stare land on her heavily. “As far as I am concerned, the Ton’s gossip no longer linger on the events following our sudden marriage.”
“T-That is very well,” she replied in a quiet voice. There was something about his look, something about his very air that drove an unpleasant feeling into Cordelia’s stomach. The adrenaline and excitement she once felt became ill suited and sickening. She kept one hand over her stomach while pushing the plate of food away with the other.
If there was anything she was still sure of, it was a need for honesty. No matter what he planned on saying next, Cordelia knew what it was that she wanted to say, and could hardly go another day with the truth trapped within her heart. There was more that she wanted, a future that required him to remain by her side, beyond the Season.
“Michael,” Cordelia began, “I wish -”
“I will be taking my leave, now that the rumors have ceased to plague us.”
Cordelia froze. “I beg your pardon?”
“The rumors,” Michael repeated, his expression unchanging, “They do not hang over us like a stormcloud any longer. Now that I have finished doing what I returned for, I will leave Solshire at once.”
The words at once rang through Cordelia’s head like the ringing of a sharp bell. She swallowed, glancing around at the staff that trickled in and out of the room. The morning light suddenly felt too hot, too much to bear. Though she hoped for something to change in his face, something that showed everything he said was nothing more than a fluke, Cordelia knew that she was wishing for far too much.
The anger, then, arose.
“Did you forget what you originally said?” She snapped. “Till the end of the Season, Michael. This is hardly the end of the Season! There are weeks left, weeks left to -”
“That is hardly necessary.”
She gaped, unable to stop herself. “What is the reason, Michael?”
“I have told you.”
“The real reason.”
Michael’s brow furrowed. “Do you take me for a liar?”
“I never said -”
“If you believe there to be something wrong, something ill-suited in my behavior,” he began, his voice infuriatingly calm and collected, “I will gladly correct you.”
Cordelia watched him quietly for a moment. She breathed in deeply, desperate to retain her composure when he looked as still as a statue. Suddenly, everything she felt that morning was nothing more than a silly ruse. She led herself to believe in a relationship that obviously did not exist for Michael. But then, as she tried to let her emotions simmer and diminish into some sort of calm reason, Cordelia only felt the anger grow stronger and stronger. Perhaps, after everything, she was nothing more than a fool who had fallen too quickly, loved too hard, felt too much when there was nothing to feel. Her hands tightened into fists beneath the table.
“If that is your true feelings,” she whispered, “Then perhaps you should have corrected me long ago.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I never promised to remain forever, Cordelia.”
“Do not condescend me.”
“I merely try to tell you my plans for the future.”
Cordelia scoffed, unable to hide it any longer. Pushing herself away from the table, she rose with a huff, gathering her skirts in one hand. The food remained untouched across the table, but she hardly cared for one second. Let it all grow cold and old, even stink up the room. She was too far in her anger and growing disappointment to even think about it.
“Say what you will, Michael, but I can see you for what you truly are. Perhaps that is why you insist on running away.”
Michael huffed. “I am not -”
“You are a coward.” She strode to the door. “A coward who will one day run out of chances.”
Before he could say another word, Cordelia rushed out of the dining room, practically running face first into Mrs. Bellflower down the hall. The housekeeper held the portrait in her hands, a long cloth draped over it to hide the artwork beneath. With an excited glimmer in her eyes, Mrs. Bellflower held the painting towards her.
The housekeeper glanced around, her excitement beginning to dim. “What has happened, your Grace?”
Cordelia felt the tears streaming down her cheeks before she realized she was even crying. Angrily, she held her chin up, refusing to look at the painting. The housekeeper could keep it for herself, for all she cared. There was no point in it anymore, unless she wished to feel an immeasurable heartache every time she laid eyes on it. And so, she brushed by the housekeeper simply, hiking up her skirts with one hand. The words came out before she understood what they meant.
“Burn it, for all I care.”