Page 57 of Duke of the Sun

Hunters hesitated. “That was a different time, your Grace. Do you not think you owe him the patience of talking rather than assuming the worst?”

“Is it possible to not have any patience left?”

Hunters frowned. “For someone as young as you, hardly not!”

“The Duke has made his intentions clear,” Cordelia said, though the words drove a driving pain through her chest. “He did the honorable thing and defended his wife when the time came. Though you and I both know, Hunters, that he could hardly deny the words spoken by my Aunt.” Cordelia turned away, shaking her head. “He could not even deny them to my face.”

“What exactly happened, your Grace?”

Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose to silence the rush of emotion that threatened to cascade as tears down her cheeks. “My Aunt discussed my childhood,” she explained. “Called me disobedient and spoiled. Though they were mounting flaws, they could be squashed by the right husband, she claimed. After accusing me of doing something to turn my previous betrothal away, my Aunt went on to congratulate and thank the Duke on saving the Celeston family from complete ruin. It was then that Michael ceased to allow the conversation to continue, and announced our departure.”

If Hunters was surprised by the events that unfolded at Pembroke, he worked well not to show it. Rather, the butler simply crossed his arms behind his back, listening to the recountment with a single, burly eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps, your Grace, you might be inclined to offer the Duke the benefit of the doubt.”

Cordelia gawked. “Whatever for? He left, Hunters. If he so willfully disagreed with the things my Aunt said, why leave in the first place?”

“Have you ever asked him, your Grace?”

She frowned. “Asked him what?”

“Whyhe left on your wedding night?”

“Well, no,” she mumbled. “Not entirely.”

Hunters took a few steps closer to her. “If you might allow me to be bold, your Grace,” he said, “You might regret it if you chose not to go to him this very evening.”

“Hunters, I -”

“If not at least to offer your graciousness in his change of heart,” Hunters continued. “To repay him for defending you, your Grace.” He pressed on further still, taking a few steps to lower his voice as servants moved about in the foyer. “How might you ever expect to know the truth of the Duke’s feelings if you are not brave enough to ask, your Grace?”

Cordelia watched the butler as he raised his shoulders. Before she could argue, offer up another reason as to why she couldn’t go to him, the butler turned around, and returned to the rest of the staff. Quickly, she was alone with her thoughts, and every single one of them told her which way to go. Breathing in a deep breath, Cordelia began to slowly make her way through the estate, approaching the wing she had never gone to: Michael’s chambers.

Even though she wanted to prove the butler to be wrong in all senses of the term, Cordelia could hardly find anything to strengthen her argument. After everything, Michael deserved her thanks. She lost her voice during that dinner, when her Aunt pushed to a height she did not expect. The moment Colin, the Earl, had been mentioned, Cordelia lost every bit of the fight she once had. The words reminded her of the ones her father said, how he held her in such disdain after the failed engagement, and quickly thrusted her into another one. It was too familiar, and it drove her back effortlessly.

Cordelia was soon in the hall outside of Michael’s chambers. She hesitated at the door, at first believing it to be empty, till she heard movement on the other side. Rapping her knuckles against the wood, she wrapped a hand around the knob, and slowly pushed it open.

Michael had his back facing the door when she first entered. He seemed to have thought her to be a servant at first, absentmindedly waving a hand over his shoulder as he read over some papers across his writing desk. Cordelia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, her eyes eagerly taking in his room without managing to utter a single word.

“What is it?” Michael seethed as he whipped around. “Oh.”

Cordelia’s eyes went wide.

Without his coats, Michael’s simple shirt breathed with every movement. The first few buttons were popped open, revealing a few patches of wispy hair and brilliantly pale white scars. The black shirt was puffy and voluminous without the coat to keep it down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Cordelia couldn’t tear her eyes away. There were scars across every inch of his deeply tanned skin and dark strands of hair. To see more of him felt like a blessing, something granted to her while it had turned many people away before.

Cordelia swallowed.Why did I come here in the first place?

“Is something the matter?”

She shook her head. “Quite the opposite, really.”

“Alright,” he murmured. Michael shifted between his feet, eyes snapping around.

Nerves,Cordelia quickly realized. To see her husband in such a state was hard to swallow. She didn’t know he was capable of showing fear or nerves whatsoever. Cordelia lowered her head, realized she was staring far too much.

“You ran away so fast,” she finally said, “That I never had the chance to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

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