Page 50 of Duke of the Sun

Michael nodded. “Multiple paintings at once sounds like an unneeded complexity for an already intricate pastime.”

Cordelia shrugged, trying to mask her surprise at his consistent conversation. They hadn’t spoken more than a word to each other since the orangery. The last thing she could do was get her hopes high enough to believe some sort of a relationship could exist between them. Not that she was in a rush to speak to him after finding out that their wedding was a means to be further endowed with money.

“Perhaps,” was all she could manage to say.

Michael’s gaze hung onto her as she looked away. “I wouldn’t know,” he said.

A tense silence settled within the carriage once more. Perhaps if the tour through the orangery never happened, Cordelia would feel more at ease as they neared her Aunt’s home. Pembroke was a lovely estate, one that was half the size of Solshire but surrounded by all the greenery one could imagine. Some of Cordelia’s first paintings were of the landscape around Pembroke, a few still remaining within the estate itself. The fondest memories she had of visiting her Aunt, Patience, were of the paintings she conceived.

“I believe we are near Pembroke,” Michael suddenly said as he peered through the window. He turned to look at her with a raised brow. “Perhaps you might tell me who will be present at this dinner so we might be prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“To be the loving couple that -”

Cordelia waved a hand in the air. She was rather tired of the game they played against the Ton. “Might we have an evening where it is real?”

“What is real?”

She pressed her lips together. “Our companionship. Wearecompanions,” she paused, stress striking her for a moment, “Aren’t we?”

Michael watched with widening eyes. “I suppose.” He nodded, once and shortly. “In the broadest sense of the term.”

Cordelia ignored her displeasure. What was she expecting, anyways? At least she did not need to enter her Aunt’s home unaccompanied.Thatwould’ve been a fate far worse than what she had now.

“Irene, my eldest sibling, will attend,” Cordelia finally said. “Alongside our brother, Duncan. The Earl of Pembroke, William Fitz, and my Aunt, the Countess, Patience Fitz. I believe a distant cousin of mine, James Worsley, arrived in London on some business and is expected to attend. He is staying at Pembroke for the time being.”

Michael nodded slowly.

Listing the names drove a sharp anxiety through Cordelia’s chest. She could barely remember James from her childhood, as he was almost a decade older than her, and was out of the city often. But it was not her distant cousin that drove a wedge through her excitement of seeing family. No, Cordelia remembered the moments in Pembroke far too often, of her Aunt’s sharp tongue and the stinging feeling that always followed.

Cordelia nervously pulled at a loose string on her dress, unknowingly causing some of the ruffles to deflate and fall unattractively down her legs.

“Are you well?”

She glanced at Michael. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You are not normally so fidgety.”

Cordelia did not believe her husband noticed her enough to recognize when she was being unlike herself. “I am quite normal, actually.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” she quickly said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Michael hesitated. “Well, family is -”

“I wouldn’t worry.” Cordelia straightened, pulling her hands away from her clothes to stop picking at them. “It is expected to be a fine evening.”

He pressed his lips together. “I’m sure it will be.”

Cordelia never realized how much she wanted a companion by her side until they drew closer and closer to Pembroke. The environment outside grew more familiar the further the carriage went, and the fear in her heart surged to a new height. If only they hadn’t shared the passionate moment in the orangery. Cordelia figured everything would have carried on as they were, unsettled but comfortable.

Now, Cordelia glanced at her husband and could not even imagine what he was thinking. Did he dread attending a dinner party with her family? Was he stuck in a reverie on what his life could have been if he chose another to fulfill his father’s conditions? Or, worst of all, did Michael believe his money was worth far more than what he married?

Cordelia shuddered as the carriage rolled to a slow stop. The drafty cold from the dreary weather sunk into her before they ever left the warm compartment. She only prayed that it wasn’t a sign of what was to come. Perhaps her Aunt had changed, no longer the nitpicking woman who was intent on undermining Cordelia for who she was.

The driver opened the carriage door, a wide umbrella already in hand. The rain noisily fell against the ground and the umbrella, splashing into the carriage and wetting her feet. Michael climbed out first, and reached back within, his face shrouded so much that Cordelia could hardly read his expression. She took his hand, stepping out of the carriage and wrapping her thin shawl further around her shoulders.

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