Page 31 of Duke of the Sun

“Your Grace,” he cooed, the words practically resting on Cordelia’s shoulder, “Is there any particular reason as to why you’re still here?” If it were at all possible, Cordelia felt as though she could hear the smirk in his voice, the corner of his lip turning up in a way she had never seen before.

Devils!

Her shoulders raised, an unexpected chilling rolling down her shoulder blades. In front of her, the Duke’s shadow stretched across the tile, as if he stood directly behind her. If she concentrated, she quickly realized his even breathing sliding over the top of her head. The magnitude of his height and closeness rattled Cordelia down to her very bones. Growing up, she knew the scandal it would be to reside so close to a man, especially if he wore such little clothing. Even then, bound to one another through marriage, Cordelia felt as though she had one foot securely stepping into a world of scandal and inappropriate gossip, as if the entirety of the Ton could see her now.

Without another thought to spare, Cordelia shot through the door, almost sprinting down the hall. When she rounded the corner, she slowed to a walk, unsure of where exactly she was trying to end up. There was not a single coherent thought in her mind, even when there was countless amounts of space between her and the renovated bathroom. Perhaps the Duke barely spared her a second thought, only laughing to himself about her stupidity and childish behavior.

Cordelia crossed another corner, and slid down the wall, sitting with her knees pulled up into her chest. There wasn’t a soul around, no prying eyes to see her in that dramatic state. Even if it was nothing more than a silly encounter, Cordelia pressed a hand to her chest, unable to ignore the insistent hammering of her clueless heart.

And as she sat there, desperate to calm herself down, Cordelia became aware of one thing, and one thing only. She had yet to see her husband smile, and a part of her was truly disappointed in that.

“Your Grace?”

Cordelia’s head shot up. To her right, coming down the hall, was Mrs. Bellflower. The housekeeper had a dreadfully worried look on her face, immediately dipping down beside her on the floor.

“Whatever is the matter, your Grace?” She reached, pressing the back of her palm to Cordelia’s cheeks and forehead. “You look awfully flushed, your Grace. Are you feeling unwell? Shall I fetch the doctor?”

Cordelia shook her head, barely capable of finding her words.

“I went to find you in your chambers, your Grace, but you weren’t there,” Mrs. Bellflower continued. “It passed my mind that the Duke was using the bathroom himself. I’m sure he’ll be finished in the next minute or two, and we can get you relaxed and better in no time.” The housekeeper touched her cheek another time. “Perhaps I will fetch the doctor, your Grace, just in case something ails you.”

“Whatever ails me,” Cordelia finally said, “Cannot be healed by a doctor.”

Mrs. Bellflower frowned. “The Duke enlists the brightest and most talented doctor in Solshire, your Grace. I don’t doubt the sir’s capabilities one bit.”

“Neither do I,” she replied in a murmur. “And yet, I do not believe he would be well versed in my ailment.”

The housekeeper sighed, kneeling down in front of Cordelia. She had the look of a concerned mother, her brow deeply knit and eyes widened. “Let me guess,” Mrs. Bellflower said, “Do you have a beating heart, your Grace?”

“Of course I do.”

“But is it painful? Perhaps it beats like a drum, or a burst of thunder. Like that, your Grace?”

Cordelia met the housekeeper’s persistent gaze. “I suppose so,” she whispered.

“Then I might say you are more than well, even without a doctor.” Mrs. Bellflower rose to her feet, reaching her hands out to help Cordelia up after her. Once they were both standing, Mrs. Bellflower ran her hands down Cordelia’s skirts, brushing them off and straightening them out. When she stood back up, the housekeeper reached, tucking strands of hair behind Cordelia’s ears.

“How do you know?” Cordelia finally asked. “If I am well, I mean.”

Mrs. Bellflower smiled. “We are all affected by that ailment in our lives, your Grace. And, in the end, we all survive it.”

“What is it?”

“That, your Grace, is something you might need to discover on your own.”

And as the housekeeper led the way back towards Cordelia’s chambers, she found her heart would not stop in hammering the way it insisted upon, never once letting up. She kept a hand pressed to her chest, repeating Mrs. Bellflower’s words in her head, as though they would be the cure she greedily searched for.

In the end, we all survive it.

CHAPTER10

“What do you think, your Grace?”

Words left Cordelia the moment she looked at herself in the mirror. The deeply emerald fabric stood out brightly against her softer skin. Freckles she never realized she had scattered along her nose’s bridge, a few popping up around her jaw and neck. Mrs. Bellflower pinned Cordelia’s light brown hair in a crowning fashion, a few curled ringlets framing her temples and ears. Jewelry, colored green to match her eyes and the dress, rested along her collarbones. The white gloves pulled up to her elbows snuggly. And the earrings she wore matched the jade flowers pinned around her hair.

None of it, not a single bit, reminded Cordelia of herself. There was never a time before that moment in which she looked at herself in a looking glass and blushed, surprised and embarrassed by her own beauty. But there she was, unable to tear her eyes away from herself, unaware that even a woman like her could fall victim to the slightest bit of vanity. Perhaps it was her art-centric mind, her ability to capture beauty in even the most unexpected of places. This, she knew, was a particularly unexpected place.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Bellflower asked again, moving to stand directly beside her. “Does it not please you?”

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