Page 5 of Duke of the Sun (Regency Sky #1)

CHAPTER 4

“H ow can this be the same home I grew up in?”

Michael only stood within the foyer, surrounded by servants and staff he could not recognize, and quickly grew overwhelmed with the strange place he found himself in. If not for the building itself remaining quite the same, Michael would have assumed he wandered into the wrong home, stepped into a different family. The portraits, which spanned across generations of Rayson’s, remained the same, much to his surprise. Their surroundings, however, were nothing like he had ever seen before.

The curtains he once remembered his mother picking out no longer graced the windows. The rugs he ran barefoot on as a careless child were rolled up, perhaps stored away somewhere. Faces of newly hired and appointed staff passed him by with a curious eye, stealing an inappropriate glance or two at the Duke they never once saw. He glowered at them, determined to grasp a hold of the pride he once had when walking those dark halls.

“Your Grace,” Hunters said from his right, “Might we take a walk through the estate?”

“Why,” Michael muttered, “Am I frightening your new staff?”

Hunters sighed, crossing his arms behind his back. “Dare I say, your Grace, that we needed more staff hired?”

“Nevermind that,” he mumbled, knowing fully well that, when he left the estate, there were many things needing to be done that couldn’t due to a lack of able bodied hands. For the longest time, the staff within the estate grew older alongside Michael, and by the time he was finally wed, most of the servants were far too old for the required tasks. “I want to see my chambers, Hunters.”

The butler gave him an odd look. “Very well, your Grace.”

“What?”

Hunters raised a brow.

“Is there something wrong with my chambers, Hunters?”

Throughout all the years Michael had known the butler, which was most of his life, he never once considered him to be a humorous man. He was stern and to the point, a stickler for rules and unafraid to share his opinions. It was what Michael cherished about the butler, why he considered the man to be more familial rather than a hired hand. Even then, when Michael never once graced him with his presence, Hunters never once failed to remain loyal and forthcoming.

Hunters had the slightest bit of a smile perking up. “No, your Grace,” he replied. “In fact, the chambers are more than ready to be lived in.”

Michael, feeling a hint of sarcasm in the butler’s words, held his tongue as they marched towards his chambers. “Might you tell me all that the Duchess has done to the estate, Hunters?”

“Everything, your Grace?”

“You make it sound like a mountain of things.”

Hunters raised his shoulders. “Many things required Her Grace’s attention.”

“Truly required her attention, Hunters, or was she just doing whatever she pleased?”

As they walked up the stairs, Michael suddenly became very aware of the fact that the butler was no longer following close behind him. He paused near the top, looking down to see Hunters in the middle of the staircase, looking up at Michael with a hesitant smile.

“Might I be free of restraints when saying these next things, your Grace?”

Michael took a few steps down to get closer to him. “You may.”

“Unfortunately,” Hunters began, “For quite some time now, there have been things left to disarray at the estate. The staff, for instance.”

“Yes, yes,” Michael muttered. “We’ve been over that.”

“Before you are quick to scold the rest of the changes made, I implore you to imagine what it was like for Her Grace.”

Michael froze, eyeing Hunters with a raised brow. “Do not tell me you are defending the woman.”

“The first few months were quite bleak, your Grace,” Hunters continued. “I only ask you to keep that in mind as we discuss the changes done to the estate. To be alone, and away from one’s family, is a hardship for most.”

Michael watched the butler with narrowed eyes. It was not often that Hunters gave pity or kindness towards an outsider. Michael, who had Hunters by his side since he was a child, never saw the butler give someone such leeway. While a side of him was intrigued, eager to know what it was that made Hunters turn a blind eye towards the Duchess’s actions, Michael could not be rid of the gnawing irritation that festered in the back of his mind.

“I can make no promises, Hunters,” Michael finally said. “Though, I…appreciate your need for honesty.”

Hunters smirked. “Very well, your Grace.”

As Michael continued his long strides towards his chambers, trying his best not to gawk and exclaim at all the changes he saw, Hunters remained close to his side, pointing out everything the Duchess had already done.

“The tapestries,” Hunters started as they entered a hallway, “Throughout the entire estate have been reupholstered.”

Michael huffed. “What was wrong with the older ones?”

“In a cosmetic sense, they were growing painful to look at.”

“How so?”

“Peeling and fraying,” the butler replied. “And according to Her Grace, the colors were far too dull for the amount of natural light the estate gets.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, holding his tongue back. “Very well,” he snarled. “Continue on.”

“Each room has been refurbished, your Grace.”

“All of them?”

Hunters paused on their trek, pushing open a door to one of the studies. “Every last one, your Grace.”

Michael peered inside. Rooms that were once covered in white cloth to avoid gathering dust were now unrecognizable. Wooden desks and accents took up the room. Bookcases he had never seen lined the walls, full of leather bound books. A portrait of his father, one that he distinctly remembered being tucked away in one of the bedrooms, now hung over a mantelpiece, overlooking the entire study with a quizzical brow. Michael hung on to the painting’s stare for a moment before stepping back out of the room.

Michael glowered at the butler. “Anything else?”

As they kept marching down the hall, they passed by a few new staff members, each pausing to give Michael a bow before continuing on their way.

“You know of the newly hired staff,” Hunters said, “With Mrs. Bellflower and I being, just about, the only exceptions. And I suppose you have already seen the Duchess’s most recent additions.”

Hunters paused to gesture towards a window along their route. Michael leaned over. A quiet afternoon shower rolled by the estate, the rain just beginning to clear up as he looked outside. Directly below the window, Michael caught a glimpse of the restored gardens. Wooden fences kept the garden in one spot, rows of bright colors blooming along the edges. Hedges trimmed to perfection lined the fences. There was even an arched gate, vines twisted around to make it look like a fantastical garden.

“I’m sure you remember, your Grace, when the gardens were in their original glory.”

Michael stiffened slightly, pulling back from the window. “Yes,” he murmured. “I am well aware.”

“The late Duchess’s pride and joy has returned to the estate, in a way.”

“Anything else?” Michael snapped.

If Hunters was offended by him, he didn’t show it in the slightest. “Yes, your Grace.”

Michel glowered deeply.

“The most recent addition, which is still ongoing, is the orangery being erected beside the hedge maze.”

“An orangery ?”

“Yes, your Grace,” Hunters said. “It will be the largest renovation made to the estate so far. Her Grace has spent many days planning it herself. Any architect would be impressed.”

Michael paused, glancing over at the butler. “You certainly are not one for handing out compliments, Hunters, and yet, I fear you are about to deliver another one.”

“As a matter of fact, your Grace, I find it hard not to give Her Grace a compliment.”

Michael stared at him, eyes wide and surprised. “You can’t be serious.”

“Perhaps there has been an useless extravagance spent here and there,” Hunters continued. “But you cannot deny her ability to handle her role well. Her Grace has been a fine Duchess, despite not knowing the responsibilities well beforehand.”

“But you and Mrs. Bellflower -”

“Have been a helping hand, your Grace, but the rest was done through the Duchess, and the Duchess alone.”

Michael glanced out the window once more, his eyes caught on the gardens. If he stared long enough, he swore he fell back into a time he thought long gone, where his mother used to walk with him through the gardens. She’d always have a book in hand, reading some sort of article aloud to him as they walked. If he concentrated hard enough, her voice came back to him as a distant echo, as though she haunted him still.

He yanked himself out of the reverie. “However impressive Her Grace’s work has been,” he finally said, “You cannot deny their pointless extravagance.”

The butler sighed. “They were not pointless, your Grace.”

“Hunters.”

“Sooner or later, the work needed to be done,” Hunters said. “Not that I ever had the authority to deny Her Grace’s wishes, but if I did, I do not believe I would’ve done so.”

Michael stared at the side of the butler’s face with a slack jaw. To see the man so willingly respect her changes felt like a strike across Michael’s cheek, a turn of events he never once dared to imagine. His brow furrowed.

“I would like to see my chambers, Hunters,” Michael muttered irritably.

Hunters, the only man around who could possibly be amused around Michael’s annoyance, let out another smirk and continued the way through the halls. Sticking close behind the butler, Michael glared and smoldered relentlessly. He yearned for some solitude. After spending the years at the private estate, focused on his work upon the dukedom, Michael grew incredibly fond of his moments alone.

Now, at the estate, Michael remembered the reasons why he liked it so much.

Butlers pushed open the familiar door. For a moment, Michael felt at peace, stepping back into the place he cherished, the place he so easily called home. The second he stepped over the threshold, the feeling seemed to evaporate into thin air.

There was not a single thing he recognized. The bed, sitting on the eastern side rather than the western, was dressed with silk sheets, the comforter fluffed and high above the rest of it. The tapestries, which Hunters mentioned earlier, were no longer the deeply emerald green he remembered. Instead, the colors were pale and opaque, light and soaking in the sun. He squinted as the rays shot through the opened windows, curtains pulled and tied to the side. Whatever shower that had graced the hills before had slunk off into the distance, leaving an empty sky for the sun to shine in.

Michael turned. Behind the butler, a few staff lingered by, passing in front of the room. He sidestepped Hunters, and reentered the hallway. “You two!”

The servants froze, spinning around on their heels and balancing the trays they held. They bowed simultaneously. “Your Grace.”

“Fetch the original things that once belonged in my chambers,” he commanded. “I wish for it all to be returned to what it once was. Am I understood?”

They glanced at each other before bowing once more. “Yes, your Grace.”

Within an instant, the pair took off in the opposite direction.

“Do you despise it that much?” Hunters asked as Michael came back into the bedroom.

Michael sneered. “Must I enjoy it?”

“No,” the butler replied. “But you might consider it.”

Once again, the irritation of Hunters ability to so easily accept the Duchess’s changes came rushing back through Michael. He faced the butler, eyes narrowed in a deadly glare. “Haven’t you heard the rumors surrounding my wife? The woman you hold in such high esteem?”

Hunters eyed him. “I do not believe the esteem I hold Her Grace in has anything to do with it, your Grace. But rather, despite her hardships, the Duchess focused heavily on her duties. In fact, I say she might have exceeded all of our expectations.”

“The rumors -”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Hunters said, “But those rumors are nothing but typical society, your Grace. I’m sure you know that as well as I.”

The butler’s presence in Michael’s life left him feeling more like a father figure than an outright servant. It was why, in moments like those, Michael found himself capable of holding back his tongue. He gave Hunters a nod, pressing further into the room.

“If you say it so,” he muttered. “But it does not change the fact that the Duchess’s transgressions have impacted my reputation within society.”

“So, what will you do?”

“You will act as my valet, Hunters,” Michael said. “I will need to go into the city far more than usual.”

Hunters nodded. “Of course, your Grace.”

“For now, you may leave me.”

The butler bowed and left the room, not saying another word.

Michael strode towards the windows, grasping onto the curtains and untying them. Before he let them cover the window, something caught his eye. Down below, near the hedge maze, the Duchess walked alongside them. Beside her was Mrs. Bellflower and her little dog, talking as they walked aimlessly. His eyes narrowed.

She was quite beautiful after two years. Not that she wasn’t attractive before, but it felt more dangerous then. Now, as solitude and work caused her to mature, the Duchess looked much like the flowers blooming beside her.

Michael bristled, and let the curtain flutter shut.