Page 46 of Duke of the Sun

“You have known him for a long time, haven’t you?”

Hunters blinked as if he just realized she was standing there. “Well, yes, your Grace. Since he was a very young boy.”

Cordelia stepped closer to him, her voice quiet. “Was it me, Hunters?”

“Was what you, your Grace?”

“Did I drive him into this seclusion?”

Hunters let his eyes soften. “Your Grace,” he began, “I do not believe there is a thing you have done to do this. The Duke struggles with his own internal afflictions, more than any man I have ever known.”

Cordelia pressed her lips together. “Everything was quite alright during the ball,” she whispered. “The next day, h-he began to shrink away from me. As if I had pressed too hard. Though it was only to prove a point to the Ton, I enjoyed the friendship we had. It has been a long time since I had one.”

“Perhaps you should speak with the Duke,” Hunters said with a knowing smile.

She nodded. “I will take him to the orangery.”

Cordelia turned around and hiked up her skirts to run up to the estate’s back door. Slipping inside, she walked through the halls, gulping down breaths of air to cure her beating heart. The moment she realized Michael was beginning to shrink away from her, Cordelia did not know what to do. Everything leading up to the ball simmered into a gentle truce between the two of them. Cordelia finally felt at ease alongside him, comfortable with the mysterious man she married two years ago.

And suddenly, it was as if it never existed.

Cordelia curved around the hall, her hand running along the wall as she came up to the study. The door was opened with only a crack, a sliver of light peeking into the hallway. Cordelia drew in a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen?

Many, many things.

Cordelia knocked on the door and crept inside.

Michael sat behind a desk, his attention focused in on a few letters displayed in front of him. He wrote a few letters of his own, his head not even coming up for hair as she stepped inside.

“Are you well?” Cordelia asked, her voice cracking as the embarrassment slowly took over her.

“Yes, yes,” he replied. He didn’t bother to look at her.

Cordelia gulped. Any bravery or confidence she once had seemed to slip out the door. Michael wasn’t acting at all like she expected him to. He wouldn’t even look at her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have even bothered with it. Why would Michael suddenly care about something he had no interest in learning more about? She shook her head. She would ask him what she wanted, no matter how disrespectful he insisted on being.

“Work on the orangery has been completed,” Cordelia continued, keeping her voice loud. “A few additions need to be approved, of course, but it is quite a stunning feature on the estate.”

Michael nodded his head slightly, but remained tight-lipped.

“Hunters took care of the workers. They were all paid with delightful bonuses. It’ll be quite a good name on Solshire.”

He pressed his lips together as he signed the end of one of the letters.

Cordelia’s hands tightened into fists. “Since thishappensto beyour home,your Grace,” she snapped, her voice clashing against the walls, “You should have the final say in what happens with the orangery. Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, Michael raised his head. Setting down the quill, he leaned back in his seat, eyes holding onto her all the same. Not once did he look away, even blink. All he did was watch, his head beginning to tilt ever so slightly. Beneath his stare, Cordelia squirmed and fidgeted, unable to hold it back. Despite the shadow shrouding his gaze, the look he gave her wasn’t any less intense. She was desperate to know what he was thinking, why he watched her without daring to say a word.

Michael sighed, finally, and lifted himself up from behind the desk. Straightening his coat, he kept his lips in a straight line, his brow lifting as he watched her.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

The sunlight from the late afternoon cascaded into the orangery, sending a glowing hue across the entire building. The maroon colored floors and brightly green plants clashed against one another, creating a beautiful image that Cordelia wished she could remember forever. Suddenly she yearned for a canvas and a brush, desperate to paint and put her hands to work in some way possible. If she could have been out there, nailing the wood and building the structure herself, Cordelia would’ve showered in the glory of its creation. Even so, just as the architect, Cordelia still had pride bursting through her.

She pressed further into the orangery, almost forgetting that she was meant to be touring Michael. All of it was too gorgeous for her to pay attention to anything else. To read a book inside the orangery in the early morning was on her mind. To take tea and paint and lounge without a care in the world made her drowsy with desire. Everything felt possible and bright with the orangery, her work put into a very obvious reality.

“We designed an open space parlor in the middle of the orangery,” Cordelia finally said, practically panting from happiness. “When the flowers bloom, the smell will be divine. Better than you might ever imagine.”

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