Page 20 of Duke of the Sun

Michael marched faster, determined to stop the transgressions from continuing beneath his nose. When he neared the back doors, his eyes caught onto Hunters lingering nearby.

“Hunters!”

The butler spun around, a few other servants behind him. “Yes, your Grace? Finished lunch? We might return to the -”

“Come here.”

Hunters paused, one brow raising as he walked over. “Yes, your Grace.”

“The Duchess is out there overseeing those men on her lonesome,” Michael hissed. “How long have you allowed this to pass on?”

The butler’s eyes narrowed only slightly. “Her Grace insisted on being a part of the work being done on the orangery, your Grace.”

“And you deemed that wise?”

“Whatever I deem it to be matters not,” the butler replied. “I am here to serve, your Grace.”

Michael leaned dangerously close, unable to stop himself from seething. “This might be the very reason why the Ton believes my wife to be constantly in the midst of an affair!”

“You know that is not the case, your Grace.”

“What I know and what is seen are two different things!”

Hunters nodded. “I understand, your Grace. Might I attend to the workers alongside the Duchess?”

“You will come with me to escort every damned soul unwarranted out of the estate!”

Before the butler could reply, Michael stormed off, ripping open the back door that led into the estate’s land. The orangery, which was being built near the hedge maze, was too far for him to see. The workers lingered around the gardens, packing up their tools and supplies for the day. A few were pulling carts up the squat hill, met halfway by Hunters, who led them the rest of the way. Michael continued on, sidestepping by the mingling workers.

Beside the garden, the Duchess stood on a stepping stone to look over a group of the workers. They stood around her, looking up at the pedestal she stood on. The Duchess was in the middle of reviewing things, giving orders to the remaining workers as Michael steadily approached.

“And we need to make sure the glass ceiling is as secure as it can be,” the Duchess was in the middle of saying. “The biggest thing I worry about is -”

“Everyone!” Michael shouted, his voice booming across the field.

Almost instantaneously, the workers shut up to their feet and to attention, turning to face Michael. He bristled with anger, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. In the corner of his eye, he made out Hunters approaching, already motioning for the workers to take their leave. Michael barely glanced up at the Duchess, who remained unphased from where she stood.

“Leave!”

The workers scattered, gathering up the last bits of their supplies before clobbering up the squat hill. Hunters followed behind them, taking any lingering staff members along with him. In the matter of minutes, when Michael stood directly in front of the Duchess, they were entirely alone in the garden.

He motioned for her to get down from the pedestal.

“I am fine here,” she blurted.

Michael glared up at her. “Don’t you have anyrespect?”

“Of course I do, your Grace,” she said. “I very well know how to respect my hired help.”

“I cannot, for the life of me, even begin to understand you!”

The Duchess raised a slender brow. “I wouldn’t even think you’d try to.”

“You are despicable.”

Her head shot down to him, her hands resting on her hips. From the pedestal, she stood at least a head taller than him. “What on earth is your problem? I don’t believe I have ever met a man as rude as you!”

“I am nowherenearas rude as you, your Grace,” he sneered. “Refusing to dine with your husband? Just so you might talk and work and sweat beside some strangers?”

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