Page 71 of Duke of the Sun

“Michael,” Cordelia began, “I wish -”

“I will be taking my leave, now that the rumors have ceased to plague us.”

Cordelia froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors,” Michael repeated, his expression unchanging, “They do not hang over us like a stormcloud any longer. Now that I have finished doing what I returned for, I will leave Solshire at once.”

The wordsat oncerang through Cordelia’s head like the ringing of a sharp bell. She swallowed, glancing around at the staff that trickled in and out of the room. The morning light suddenly felt too hot, too much to bear. Though she hoped for something to change in his face, something that showed everything he said was nothing more than a fluke, Cordelia knew that she was wishing for far too much.

The anger, then, arose.

“Did you forget what you originally said?” She snapped. “Till the end of the Season, Michael. This is hardly the end of the Season! There are weeks left, weeks left to -”

“That is hardly necessary.”

She gaped, unable to stop herself. “What is the reason, Michael?”

“I have told you.”

“Therealreason.”

Michael’s brow furrowed. “Do you take me for a liar?”

“I never said -”

“If you believe there to be something wrong, something ill-suited in my behavior,” he began, his voice infuriatingly calm and collected, “I will gladly correct you.”

Cordelia watched him quietly for a moment. She breathed in deeply, desperate to retain her composure when he looked as still as a statue. Suddenly, everything she felt that morning was nothing more than a silly ruse. She led herself to believe in a relationship that obviously did not exist for Michael. But then, as she tried to let her emotions simmer and diminish into some sort of calm reason, Cordelia only felt the anger grow stronger and stronger. Perhaps, after everything, she was nothing more than a fool who had fallen too quickly, loved too hard, felt too much when there was nothing to feel. Her hands tightened into fists beneath the table.

“If that is your true feelings,” she whispered, “Then perhaps you should have corrected me long ago.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I never promised to remain forever, Cordelia.”

“Do not condescend me.”

“I merely try to tell you my plans for the future.”

Cordelia scoffed, unable to hide it any longer. Pushing herself away from the table, she rose with a huff, gathering her skirts in one hand. The food remained untouched across the table, but she hardly cared for one second. Let it all grow cold and old, even stink up the room. She was too far in her anger and growing disappointment to even think about it.

“Say what you will, Michael, but I can see you for what you truly are. Perhapsthatis why you insist on running away.”

Michael huffed. “I amnot-”

“You are a coward.” She strode to the door. “A coward who will one day run out of chances.”

Before he could say another word, Cordelia rushed out of the dining room, practically running face first into Mrs. Bellflower down the hall. The housekeeper held the portrait in her hands, a long cloth draped over it to hide the artwork beneath. With an excited glimmer in her eyes, Mrs. Bellflower held the painting towards her.

The housekeeper glanced around, her excitement beginning to dim. “What has happened, your Grace?”

Cordelia felt the tears streaming down her cheeks before she realized she was even crying. Angrily, she held her chin up, refusing to look at the painting. The housekeeper could keep it for herself, for all she cared. There was no point in it anymore, unless she wished to feel an immeasurable heartache every time she laid eyes on it. And so, she brushed by the housekeeper simply, hiking up her skirts with one hand. The words came out before she understood what they meant.

“Burn it, for all I care.”

CHAPTER21

“Pack my bags at once.”

Michael strode out of the dining room in a hurry. The staff stepped aside as he shot around them, pressing their backs against the wall and waiting till he got far enough to whisper questions and surprised murmurs. Behind him, following close to his heels, was Hunters, his footsteps almost quiet when compared to Michael’s unavoidable strides.

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