Page 52 of Duke of the Sun

“Now, now,” she drawled, “Don’t think you’d get away that easily, Cordelia! I’ve had plenty of time to question the other Celeston siblings, but when was the last time we saw each other?” Aunt Patience looked over her shoulder to her husband. “It couldn’t have been for my dear brother’s funeral. I very much remember Cordelia’s absence!”

Cordelia gulped. Her father passed on while she was living in solitude at Solshire. Even if she wanted to attend, she couldn’t imagine leaving the estate and attending any sort of event without her husband in tow. The explanation she would be expected to give was hardly something she had ever done in the past. What could she have possibly said?

Right as she opened her mouth to speak, Michael stepped forward with a slight bow.

“You’ll have to forgive me, my Lady,” he said in a deep voice. “Unfortunately, my wife’s and I’s nuptials carried on far longer than what is socially appropriate.”

Aunt Patience didn’t bother to hide the surprise from her face. “How lucky our dear Cordelia must be,” she said.

“Lucky, Aunt?” Cordelia asked in a quiet voice, not that she was entirely certain she wished to hear it.

“Why,” she began with a shrug, “You were pulled from a great scandal that could have affected the entire family, only to have been saved by a Duke. Doesn’t that sound lucky to you?”

Cordelia lowered her head. Michael’s stare hung onto the side of her face. She could feel it from the heat alone, a rush of embarrassment beginning to claw its way through her body.

Aunt Patience turned, still discussing Cordelia’s life without outrightly addressing her. “And don’t get me started on all the dreadful rumors the Ton has been gawking on about,” she snapped. “Every place I dare to go in London was always met with a ‘have you heard from the Duchess? Have you heard of what happened next?’” Aunt Patience met Cordelia’s gaze, both of her brows raised at a crooked angle. “‘Have you heardwhowas seen entering her abode next?’”

Cordelia pressed her lips together. While the rumors had been as settled as they could’ve been from their attendance at the Season’s latest ball, Cordelia never once stopped to consider how many reparations needed within her own family. Her eyes desperately glanced around the room. Irene and Duncan looked helpless, though she never expected them to truly speak against their Aunt. While the Celeston siblings went on to be rather bound to each other, the rest of the family kept their expected distance.

She should not have planned on receiving anything else from her Aunt’s family.

“Aunt Patience,” Cordelia began, desperate to change the conversation, “You would be greatly impressed to see my orangery. Work has just finished, and I -”

“Tell me, Cordelia,” Aunt Patience interjected as she retook her seat, “Do you still paint?”

She gulped. “Yes, Aunt.”

“What else?”

Cordelia hesitated. “Else, Aunt?”

“Embroidery, the pianoforte,” Aunt Patience explained with a wave of her hand. “Singing, writing. Tell me something else of importance you have managed to take on since we last spoke.” Shaking her head, she turned to eye her husband. “Long before dear Irene reached Cordelia’s age, she had already mastered all that is expected from a respectably raised woman.” Aunt Patience faced her once more, her brow raised. “Well, Cordelia? What else?”

Cordelia stuttered over her words as she struggled to find the right thing to say. What else was there? She liked to call herself an expert at landscape paintings, and recently trudged through mastering portraits, but that wasn’t at all what her Aunt wanted to hear. When was the last time Cordelia dared to try embroidery, to read one of the books stowed away in Solshire? Each question came up empty, no response adequate enough to satisfy her Aunt.

Everything Cordelia worried about in regards to the dinner party quickly closed in on her.

“As I mentioned before,” Cordelia began in a small voice, “I believe you might be greatly impressed with what I have done to the estate in Solshire. The orangery is beyond what -”

Aunt Patience suddenly rose from her seat when the sound of a servants’ quiet footsteps entered the parlour. “Has dinner been served?” she blurted, entirely cutting Cordelia off from what she was saying.

The servant bowed her head. “Yes, my Lady.”

“Splendid!” Aunt Patience waved with an exaggerated grandiose. “Let us move to the dining hall, shall we?”

Unaware of the tension radiating from Cordelia, Aunt Patience trickled out of the room absentmindedly, already talking about something new. The Earl followed close behind her, with James trailing them next. Irene passed by Cordelia with a small smile, her hand squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. Duncan did the same on her opposite arm, though his frown never dared to turn.

A hand appeared in front of her.

“Shall we?”

Cordelia glanced up to see Michael standing in front of her, his hand waiting. She breathed deeply before taking his hand, and allowed him to steer the pair of them towards the dining hall. While she already felt herself being whittled to something very small and timid, Cordelia remembered as they passed over the threshold that it had hardly even begun yet. She pushed a smile across her face, the mantra repeating feverishly in the back of her mind.

Calm and collected.

Calm and collected.

Calm, and whatever else I can possibly be.

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