Page 28 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

“It is time!”

All of Solshire was thrown upside down one uneventful morning. Michael rose early that day, intent on rising with the sun and having a quiet swim. Over the months, he grew incredibly fond of the water and swimming, the feeling of his arms striking through the water too intoxicating for him to turn away. Perhaps it was the birdsong all around him, or the thriving vegetation that convinced him. Either way, the water was cool in the early spring, bringing a chill to his body that filled him with adrenaline.

On that morning, Michael was heading towards the front doors of the estate, when Mrs. Bellflower called out to him from the top of the grand staircase, her voice carrying through the foyer as if she were an orchestra.

“It is time, your Grace!” The housekeeper hiked up her skirts as she raced down the steps. “Her Grace has gone into labor, and we are beginning to tend to her now.”

Michael’s heart felt as though it landed within his stomach. “Now?”

“Now, your Grace!”

“W-What shall I do?” The towel fell from his hand without him even noticing. “What can I fetch for her? How long till -”

“Settle down, your Grace,” Mrs. Bellflower said with a knowing smile. “There is little for the husband to do in times like these. You may wait outside her door, if that is what you wish, and can enter once the babe has entered the world.”

Michael frowned. “That is all?”

“That is all, your Grace.”

He shook his head defiantly. “That cannot be all, Mrs. Bellflower. That is my wife in there, and I insist upon doing anything presented to me!”

Mrs. Bellflower’s cheeks puffed out as she tried to contain her laughter. “There is plenty to be done, your Grace, but the maid’s have already begun the work! They are all rather adequate in their jobs, your Grace. The Duchess is well looked after.”

“Well,” he snapped, still not satisfied. “I insist!”

“Your Grace.” From behind the housekeeper, came the butler, Hunters. He had his arms behind his back, a slight smirk growing across his face. The moment he came down the stairs, Mrs. Bellflower scurried off, her laughter heard from down the hall. “You look rather worried. Are you well?”

“What sort of a question is that, Hunters?”

Hunters raised a brow. “A simple one, I believed.”

“My wife is in the midst of labor! Should I not be -”

“Your Grace,” Hunters interjected in a calm voice as he gestured down the hall that Mrs. Bellflower took off running down. “It is in times like these that I pity your lack of proper raising.”

Michael frowned. “This does not seem like something my father would teach me.”

“Precisely my point,” Hunters replied with a sigh. “The labor is an intensive process that requires a womanly touch. You and I would be little help, unless a doctor was needed.”

“A doctor?” Michael froze, suddenly overwhelmed with the possibility of having to fetch the doctor. “Is that what she will need? I can go to -”

“Your Grace!” Hunters shook his head. “I only meant to explain. There won’t be a need for one. The Duchess is in stunning health and her babe has been cared for extraordinarily well. There is nothing to fear. Perhaps,” he paused as they neared the hallway of Cordelia’s private chambers, “There is something else you are worried about. Maybe something after the birth?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I refer to being a father, your Grace.”

Michael pressed his lips together, the words taking him off guard. And yet, the moment they were said, Michael could hardly deny their importance. When he looked back at his own child, what was it that he saw? There was hardly enough love, more than enough violence. Nothing that would relate to a kind family, one that raised a child right. Perhaps Cordelia was naturally fit for it, but he was beginning to believe he was more like his father than he ever meant to be.

Hunters reached, suddenly, resting his hand over Michael’s shoulder. “You are already more of a father than the old Duke ever was.”

Michael’s eyes went wide. “I-I do not know what I am doing.”

“No one ever does,” Hunters said. “All you must do is keep going. No matter what happens, do not forget the importance of your child knowing your love for them. You have seen what happens when such a thing is forgotten.”

He nodded silently.

“And you know that is not what your legacy deserves.”

“Do you have children, Hunters?”

The butler sighed and lowered his arm. His expression grew wistful as he stared down the hall, as if there were memories replaying in the back of his mind. Hunters faced him once more, his stoic and serious nature quickly returning.

“Some are not meant to follow that path,” he finally said. “But most are meant for it.”

Without another word, Hunters kept walking.

The room where Cordelia was giving birth was in the middle of the hallway. Michael strode towards it, his hand hovering over the knob. But he pulled away in the end, his jaw clenched tightly as the worry began to grab a hold of him. Instead, he jerked away, pacing up and down the hall. At first, he imagined what the baby would look like. If they would resemble him more or Cordelia. Immediately he hoped the child would be like its Mother, since she was the most beautiful creature Michael had ever seen.

But the longer the time went on, and Michael’s pacing continued, he wondered if the child would fear him in the same way that every other person in London did. Perhaps the baby would jerk away and cry the moment he entered the room, demanding to be attached to its Mother’s bosom and nowhere else. What would he do then? Respect the child’s fears, of course, but how could he go on living with himself? Michael shook his head, ashamed of the thoughts that were threatening to overtake him with ease.

Some sounds came through the closed door, but they were none that Michael wished to hear again. Cordelia cried out quietly, her voice barely reaching where he stood. Each time he dared to overhear it, he flinched away, desperate to barge in the room and comfort her the best he could. Every once and a while, a maid would slip out of the room before shutting the door tightly behind them, and quickly speeding down the hall. The maid would return with steaming water, or a stack of fresh blankets. Each time, the maid ignored him, and did not say a single word.

Suddenly, after what felt like hours upon hours, the bedroom door swung open. The maid from before stepped out, the door remaining open behind her. She gave Michael a wide, beaming smile.

“Your daughter has arrived.”

Michael felt the air get stolen from his chest. His eyes went wide, the word daughter hanging over his head like the sun. The one thing he never stopped to consider was the gender of the baby. A boy or a girl, a son or a daughter. But, then, when he heard her say ‘daughter’, he knew that was what he wanted all along.

The maid stepped out of the way, and gestured for him to enter the room.

Rubbing his hands over his clothes and straightening them along the way, Michael cautiously stepped into the bedroom. The windows were partly open, letting in a gentle breeze with the faraway sound of birds singing. The maids were cleaning up some blankets, the midwife lingering near the back of the room. Michael, however, could hardly see any of them. His eyes were set upon his wife and daughter, both of them laying within the middle of her bed.

“Michael,” Cordelia cooed, her voice slightly hoarse and eyes droopy with exhaustion. “Come here, won’t you?”

He stepped closer. “You are beautiful, darling.”

“Good gracious,” she murmured, though the smile on her face seemed to say that that was what she wanted to hear.

“A daughter,” Michael said, his eyes drifting towards the wrapped babe in her arms. “Is she well?”

“She is more than well.”

“And you?”

Cordelia smiled. “What about me?”

He reached, dragging a finger along her cheek. “Are you well?”

“I am,” she whispered.

Michael leaned forward to place a kiss on Cordelia’s cheek. Dipping down further, he pressed his lips gently to the babe’s forehead, feeling her soft skin beneath. The baby stirred and jostled, her miniscule fingers reaching for him instinctively. Michael felt himself soften, the final piece of icy anger that rested within him melting to make space for the new love of his life. The baby was just as he imagined, a creature that was just as lovely as her Mother. Michael took a seat on the bed alongside Cordelia, tucking one arm around her shoulders.

“The maids said you were practically walking up the walls from pacing so much,” Cordelia whispered, the corner of her lip twitching into a teasing smile.

Michael shrugged sheepishly. “What of it?”

“Well, it seems to be that you happened to be more worried than I.”

He laughed lightly, careful not to wake the sleeping babe. “You’re lucky I happen to love you,” he murmured, resting his hand against the baby.

“Or what?”

“Or,” he teased in a low voice, “I might have to scold you for daring to tease me in such a way.”

Cordelia chuckled as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I am rather tired, my love.”

“Say that again.”

She raised a brow. “What? That I am tired?”

“No,” he chuckled. “The other bit.”

A sleepy smile spread across her lips. “My love.”

“I could hear you say that for as long as I live, darling,” he murmured, leaning to press a kiss against her hair.

“Let me sleep on you,” she said, “And I just might.”

“Whatever you want, darling. It is all yours.”

Cordelia breathed in deeply as she nestled herself against him, still holding onto the sleeping baby tightly. “I love you,” she whispered, the words barely loud enough for him to hear.

Michael pulled her even closer to him, using his other arm to wrap around their bundled child. And as the maids waited out in the hallway, the midwife taking her leave, Michael felt the joy grow to new and unseen heights within his chest. A bright future he never believed to belong to him waited upon the horizon, just within his reach. Michael wished to remain like that for as long as possible, to have everything he loved pressed against his chest like they were now. Despite the upbringing he once had, the life his parents decided to give him, Michael turned out to be better than anyone would’ve ever imagined him to be.

There no longer was any fear, no need to shy away. He had everything he deserved, and he had no intentions of letting a single one of them go. He breathed her in deeply before he spoke again, believing her to already be fast asleep against his shoulder, anyways. And if he could let her rest against him for the rest of time, he would’ve in a single heartbeat. She was as close as she could be, and it pleased Michael more than he could ever imagine.

Michael smiled.

“I love you, too.”

The End