Page 22 of Duke of the Sun

Cordelia met his gaze. The butler watched her like an observant father, a man with a hidden meaning lurking behind his eyes. She sighed again, looking away with a pout on her face. “I am kinder than he,” she snapped. “So I will give him this one thing, Hunters. The fact that you are back is a welcomed reprieve. Attending a single meal is the least I can do.”

Hunters widened his smile. “What a pleasant idea, your Grace. I will keep a watchful eye on the hired hands. The orangery will be finished in no time.”

Cordelia gave him a nod before turning back towards the estate. A million thoughts ran through her mind as she slipped through the backdoors. Her composure was so easily lost when she was near him. Passionate anger felt easy to find, something she never truly reveled in. Not only that, but Cordelia could not deny her unmistakable interest in the Duke. His shrouded nature and outwardly beastly attitude never once failed to make her question what his life had been like before, where he might’ve come from, what it was like to live in that estate.

The eagerness she had to uncover his true thoughts was more irritable than she realized it would be. Cordelia refused to give in to the man, though everything about him was dangerously intriguing. Cordelia pressed on, going further and further into the estate.

All she had to do was retain her composure and keep a leveled head. The more distance kept between them, the easier it would be for Cordelia to remain collected. As she neared the dining room, hearing the sounds of servants moving around within, Cordelia repeated the words in the back of her mind like a mantra.

Composure and distance.

Cordelia slipped into the dining room. The servants turned to face her, deeply bowing before backing away. Across the table, the Duke rose to his feet.

“Your Grace,” he said, lowering his head in a polite bow. The Duke waved a hand towards the seat across from him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied, cautiously moving towards the table.

The Duke’s attention was pulled down to the papers in his hands as he retook his seat. Cordelia’s eyes flicked up to him every minute or so, a desperate attempt to gauge his emotions without staring for too long. Even so, with every moment her eyes landed on him, Cordelia found it harder to pull away. He was so naturally handsome without trying, merely letting his hair rest down his neck and dress in a simple black suit.

Cordelia tried to focus on her food, though not a bit of hunger touched her. She was only growing curiouser and curiouser, unable to stop herself from stealing quick glances in his direction.

“There is a ball coming up in the next few days,” the Duke suddenly said.

Cordelia jerked, pulling her gaze away from him. “In London?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I have already sent word of our attendance.”

She raised her head, meeting his gaze. “Very well.”

The Duke nodded, his stare holding onto her a moment longer than she expected it to. His expression remained unchanged, dark eyes clinging to her face heavily. His head tilted ever so slightly, the corner of his lip twitching into a frown. The longer he stared, the more her heart began to race. She yanked her gaze away, desperate for the hammering beneath her chest to quiet down to a normal pattern.

Composure,she repeated to herself, though it wasn’t the kind of composure she thought she would have needed.

“You understand what would be required of us at a ball, correct?”

She frowned. “Required of us?”

“As in,” he said, leaning onto his hand, “Acting like a dutiful husband and wife. A pair that always expected to be together.”

Cordelia held back her scoff. His words clung to her longer than she expected them to. She swallowed, looking down towards her untouched plate of food. “Yes,” she said. “I remember now.”

“Do you have an appropriate dress to wear?”

She met his gaze again, her brow raised as the insult sunk into her skin. “Why wouldn’t I?” she snapped. “I have too many I’ll never get to wear.”

The Duke watched her. “Very well,” he muttered. “Hunters will be handling your workers from now on.”

Her eyebrows shot up. The surprise was hard to mask. She reached for her cup, taking a sip of the steaming tea and eyeing him over the rim. The Duke already returned to looking over his papers, retrieving an envelope from a nearby stack and using the sharp edge of a blade to pry the wax seal off with apop.

Cordelia watched him with an unwavering stare. He couldn’t be the same man she witnessed the day before, the same man who approached her with such a raging anger, the same man who abandoned her for two years. Not that a simple request granted was something to fawn over, but it was something. She found herself unable to ignore it, unable to push past the growing feeling of racing butterflies within the depths of her stomach.

Finally, Cordelia lowered her cup, struggling to place it on the saucer without a loud clattering noise. She struggled to speak, the words of gratitude sticking to the tip of her tongue.

“Thank you, your Grace,” she finally managed, the words so low she thought he hadn’t even heard.

The Duke raised his head. He did not open his mouth to speak. He merely watched her, holding onto her stare and leaning forward ever so slightly. The Duke tilted his head, his eyes narrowed in an investigatory way. Every bit of him, without warning, took her in, unable to pull himself away.

Cordelia, greedily, soaked up every moment of his attention, feeling the burning red blush rise to her cheeks slowly but surely. Her pulse began to quicken once more and, even if she wanted to, she found that she couldn’t peel her eyes away.

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