Page 38

C ordelia drew her paintbrush along the canvas, following the line of the bountiful blossoms in front of her.

The gardens grew exponentially that season, primarily due to the amount of work she’d put into them the past two years.

Flowers and bushes bordered the back of the estate, squat fences and gates wrapping around them to contain the ever growing gardens.

A few geese landed nearby, taking a gander over the gardens before making their way down the squat hill towards the lake.

“See those geese, Silas?” she mused.

Beside her, sunbathing in the sun’s rays, was Cordelia’s Yorkshire Terrier.

He was a small creature, colored chestnut and black, his belly stretched across the pavement beneath them.

Cordelia lounged in a chair, a canvas balanced across her legs.

Silas stretched his stout paws out and yawned before leaping onto the chair, curling up between her feet.

He raised his little head towards the geese as they honked loudly.

Cordelia reached, rubbing her fingers behind his ears when a commotion came from behind her.

“Your Grace!” Mrs. Bellflower called out as she burst out from the backdoors. “There is a very adamant woman demanding your presence!”

“An adamant woman?” Cordelia repeated, turning to look over her shoulder at the exasperated housekeeper. “Who on earth —”

Before she could finish her sentence, Irene came fluttering out of the doors behind the housekeeper, not bothering to wait for an introduction. She carried her voluminous skirts as she ran down the steps, her normally gentle face contorted in worry.

“Cordelia!” Irene snapped, resting a hand over her chest. “Have you any idea how much of a fright you have given Duncan and I?”

Cordelia lowered her canvas to the floor. “Don’t tell me sour-faced Duncan is here.”

Irene gaped.

“What on earth is the matter?” Cordelia asked as she looked into her sister’s worried face. “You haven’t bothered to visit for two years, never mind the short letter or two. Now you plow through my housekeeper?” Cordelia raised a brow at her. “Not quite proper of you, dear sister.”

Irene’s jaw dropped further before Silas suddenly realized a stranger’s presence, hopping down from the chair. He barked and yipped, his short tail wagging so fast he might have taken off in the air.

“Y—you have a dog?” Irene asked as the terrier jumped up at her feet.

Cordelia rose to her feet. “I would’ve told you sooner if you gave me the time of day.”

“Sister,” she said, her voice no longer strained with worry, “You know our father as well as I. He was adamant about leaving you be.”

“You cannot use him as an excuse any longer,” Cordelia said.

“He passed away a year ago, Irene. Anything stopping you from visiting has to do with you and only you.” She closed the distance between them, reaching to take hold of her sister’s gloved hands.

“Though I won’t deny my pleasure in finally seeing you. ”

Irene’s face softened further. She held her stare quietly for a moment, raising one hand to cup the side of Cordelia’s face. “You have grown,” she whispered, tucking a brown curl behind her ear. “You are quite beautiful, Cordelia.”

Cordelia smiled, leaning into her sister’s hand.

The warmth that coursed through her was not like the heat from the sun’s stare, but rather something more powerful.

The last time Cordelia had truly faced her sister was at her wedding, a day that felt so distant she sometimes thought she’d made it up.

Irene’s face grew concerned.

“What is it, sister?” Cordelia cooed.

“You have been at the center of the ton's gossiping for quite some time now, Cordelia.”

She sighed, pulling away from her sister. “An unsurprising notion,” she muttered. “Tell me, Irene, what is it they harp over now?”

“Too much for you to act blasé about it.”

Cordelia took her seat again, leaning back against her elbows. “I suppose it was a naive thought to assume their attention would linger elsewhere.”

“You haven’t made an appearance in polite society for two years,” Irene said, growing exasperated once more. “Not only that, but your husband is a known outcast, a man with a warranted beastly reputation. Can you blame them for wondering about your health, your whereabouts?”

“Oh,” Cordelia drawled, “So that’s all, then? The ton was worried about my well-being?”

Irene sighed. “You know it isn’t that simple.”

“Go on, then,” Cordelia said. “Tell me what they gossip about now.”

“They assumed your marriage had been doomed from the start,” Irene began, taking a seat across from Cordelia.

The terrier hopped up next to her, eagerly awaiting a pet from the stranger.

“Perhaps the scandal of your previous betrothal got to the Duke, and it tormented him as much as it tormented our family.”

Cordelia rested her hand over her eyes. “You may report back that they were wrong on that one.”

“Some even went so far as to assume you were pregnant at some point.”

“From whom,” she snapped, “My previous suitor or my beastly husband?”

Irene glowered at her. “This is no time for teasing, Cordelia. Can you stop for a moment and consider what rumors like these could do for the rest of your family?”

“No, Irene, I assumed we were no longer bound together in such a way.”

“Don’t be so petulant,” Irene snapped. “Those were barely even the most scandalous of rumors that have tainted your good name.”

Cordelia glanced over at her. “Don’t tell me there were more.”

“I happened to hear that you were making changes to the estate.”

She sat up. “How could you have possibly known that?”

Irene laughed dryly. “The ton knows these things, Cordelia. They see the men coming in and out of your doors. The money being spent on renovations and changes. People talk, and they talk even more when it comes to questions such as these.”

“Whether or not I wish to change the interior of my home is my business, and my business alone.”

Irene raised a brow. “Would it not also be the business of your husband, the Duke?”

Cordelia pulled her stare away quickly. She had not laid eyes on the Duke for two years, since the butler informed her of his decision to reside elsewhere.

While she’d once assumed he needed the space to come to terms with a new-found marriage, Cordelia no longer bothered to ruminate over it.

Not when there were countless possibilities left for her, a mountain of avenues and responsibilities upon her shoulders.

Never once did she believe the duties of a Duchess could be invigorating, until she was truly thrown into it. The ability to rework the estate, to change its dreary interior into something worth living in brought her joy and satisfaction, something she could not find in her marriage.

“The Duke has not been here for years, Irene,” Cordelia finally said. “Whatever has been done to the estate is from my word alone.”

Irene watched her closely. “Is that why you recklessly spent his fortune? To provoke him?”

“I never said such a thing,” Cordelia muttered, though she could not help the mischievous smirk from pointing up at the corner of her lip. “Though it sounds rather well deserved, does it not?”

“Cordelia,” Irene scolded, “These rumors have gone on for too long. Perhaps you have no mind for them whispering about a river of men coming and leaving the estate, but it is no longer as simple as that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have failed to show your face in the Season’s events,” Irene explained, “And it has left the ton to imagine one catastrophic conclusion: the Duke has murdered you!”

Cordelia froze. “You aren’t serious.”

“Do I look to be having a joke, Cordelia?”

“Well,” she mused, “That has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Even from the ton ! Murdered?”

Irene shook her head. “Can you truly blame them?”

“I suppose not,” she replied. “But they do love to exaggerate. It boggles me how anyone takes them seriously!”

“I insist you make an appearance this Season.”

Cordelia laughed. “I do not see that in my future, Irene.”

Irene rose from her seat abruptly, forcing the terrier to leap off of her lap. “You must consider the future ramifications of your actions. What happens when you do, in fact, bear children? When you crave society but are found to be unaccepted?”

“I cannot have children without a husband.”

“You have a husband, Cordelia!”

She sighed, leaning back against her seat once more. “I appreciate your caring, Irene, but you know I have never regarded the ton highly enough to respect their rumors. Besides, my husband is not a deaf man. If you are aware of these rumors, I can only assume he is just as knowledgeable of them.”

“What are you getting at?”

Cordelia looked up at her. “The Duke obviously does not care for the rumors. Why should I?”

“Like I said,” Irene murmured, “Duncan and I still feel the effect of your actions, Cordelia. We are family, after all. When we attend the Season in London, the amount of lords and ladies imploring us about your actions is absurd.”

“They are my actions,” she said.

Irene sighed. “You have never understood.”

“Do not patronize me, Irene,” Cordelia snapped. “You have no idea what my life has been like. To live in an estate like this one without a soul by my side has left me no choice but to fill my time!”

“Then why can’t you spend it in society?”

Cordelia looked away. “That is what you have never understood about me, dear sister. The society you know has accepted every bit of you. I never received the same kindness as you.”

“It does not have to be that way.”

“I agree,” Cordelia said. “They must change.”

“Cordelia—”

The sound of the back door opening once more cut Irene’s words short. She raised her face towards the estate as the sound of quick steps against the ground drew closer. Cordelia sat up to see Hunters, the butler, standing beside their lounging chairs.

“Good afternoon, Hunters,” Cordelia greeted. “Have you met my sister?”

Hunters bowed his head towards Irene. “Excuse my interruption, Your Grace.”

“What is it? Have more workers arrived for the next project?”

“I’m afraid not quite,” he said. “But rather the Duke, your husband, has returned.”

Cordelia’s heart threatened to stop. “The Duke,” she repeated. “Are you certain?”

“Very much so.”

She rose from her seat, hands beginning to tremble at her sides in the same way she remembered him the last night she saw him. Her eyes shot over to Irene.

Irene’s eyebrows were raised. “Perhaps the Duke has heard the same rumors as I.”

“The very reason those rumors exist are because of him, Irene!”

“Nevertheless,” she said, grabbing onto her things, “He has returned. Good tidings for the entire estate, isn’t it?”

Cordelia gave her sister a thin smile, though nothing within her was even the tiniest bit pleased. How can he show up on a whim like this?

“Hunters,” Cordelia said, “Might you escort my sister back to her carriage?”

The butler bowed his head deeply. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

“Sister,” Irene said, “I might stay longer, if you wish.”

“I only want to greet my husband,” Cordelia said, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Alone.”

Irene watched her for a moment, hesitating as the butler gestured towards the doors. “Won’t you write to me, Cordelia?”

“Of course,” she murmured, though a part of her was too engrossed in the idea of her husband being back to focus too much on her sister.

Irene, seemingly satisfied, allowed the butler to show her the way back towards the front of the estate.

Cordelia remained beside the garden, pacing along the steps.

Silas, the terrier, kept a close eye on her as she walked, his head swaying back and forth as though music played.

Her mind raced rapidly as she waited for her husband to make an appearance.

She decided quickly that she would not dare to seek him out.

Even though anxiety and nerves bubbled up within the depths of her stomach, she refused to allow her confidence to falter.

“Silas,” she said, holding her chin up, “If there is one thing I have done over these years, it is to build a life for myself, and myself alone.”

The dog barked in response.

“Precisely,” she replied. “The Duke made his choice long ago. How can I be scorned for making my own?”

Before the terrier could make another timely response, noise came from the estate’s backdoor once more.

This time, it was Mrs. Bellflower, her voice carrying down towards the gardens as she opened the doors.

Behind her, Cordelia could make out a looming silhouette that lurked behind the housekeeper.

Cordelia felt her heart stammer and shudder within her chest. Her relentless anger towards him and ever-growing nerves mixed together unpleasantly.

The housekeeper stepped aside, and the Duke of Solshire marched out into the spring air.

Devils, Cordelia thought to herself.

If the Duke had had a commanding presence before, it was nothing as compared to now.

He dressed in a simple black coat, the tail end falling down behind him dramatically.

Though his hair had been longer than most aristocratic men at the time of their wedding, the Duke had let it grow out further, now resting down the back of his neck.

The way he strutted down the steps, the way he tightened his jaw, the way his hands flexed and tightened at his sides, all threatened to bring Cordelia to her knees.

She raised her chin as he approached. Never mind it, she thought.

“Welcome back, Your Grace,” Cordelia called out to him, lowering herself to a deep bow.

When she rose, the Duke was directly in front of her.

His presence brought a chill to the air, despite there not being a cloud in the sky.

The corner of his lip curled, a sinister smirk spreading across his face.

He did not need to speak to let her know he was not the slightest bit pleased with her.

“Hello,” he drawled, “ Wife. ”