Page 36 of My Ruthless Duke

As her fingers brushed the paper, she felt something small and hard. She broke the seal and carefully opened the note. A small, delicate key slid into her palm. For a moment, she simply stared at it, her mind racing.

The greenhouse?

The letter was short, written in Dorian’s sharp script:

You have waited long enough. Go make something beautiful.

– Dorian.

Cordelia’s breath left her in a rush. A wide, uncontrollable smile split her face. She could not believe it. It felt impossible. She did not think that she was truly going to let herself get excited until she had the doors to the greenhouse open in front of her.

In her excitement, she forgot all pretense of decorum. She tossed the letter onto the bed, yanked her dressing gown over her shoulders, and took off the stairs at a run. Her feet made almost no sound as she bolted through the estate, her fingers clutching the key tightly as though it might vanish if she let it go. She did not care that her hair was loose, cascading in messy waves down her back. She did not care that she was dressed entirely inappropriately for the morning, let alone going outside.

She had to see it.

She needed tofeelit.

The house was still quiet, the staff not yet fully awake. She slipped through the halls unnoticed, her feet pattering lightly against the marble as she burst out through the front door and into the morning air.

The grass was still dewy beneath her feet as she ran across the lawn, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. She did not feel the chill. Her heart was racing far too fast for that, each step bringing her closer to the one place she had dreamed about since she had first seen the estate.

And then, there it was. The greenhouse bathed in the soft light of the rising sun.

Cordelia slowed as she approached, her breath coming in small, excited gasps. She reached the door and paused, her hand shaking as she fit the key into the lock. The chains that she had started to think of as a permanent fixture were gone, all hints of rust brushed away like it had never truly been locked away from her in the first place. For a moment, she hesitated, savoring the anticipation. Then, with a soft click, the door swung open.

It was real. He was truly giving her the space to do the one thing that she loved above nearly everything else.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she smiled. She could already see it in her mind’s eye—the flowers, the herbs, the vines trailing up the walls. It did not matter how long it was going to take her, she located a pair of old garden gloves covered in grime and hit them against the same table that still bore her knee and handprints. She fought against the instant surge of arousal thatseemed synonymous with her husband now. When the gloves were as clean as she could get them, she pulled them onto her hands.

No matter how difficult it was to control the things outside of this building, her mother—Dorian, and Mary, Matthew—this was a place where she could control the outcome, an outlet that she so desperately needed. It was all up to her.

Cordelia pushed up the sleeves of her nightgown, her heart still racing with excitement as she stepped further into the greenhouse. Her work was certainly cut out for her. Rusted hangers for potted plants hung haphazardly from the ceiling, and the wooden tables were warped with age and water damage. She moved slowly through the space, her fingers trailing over the surfaces as she imagined what it would look like once she breathed life back into it.

But despite its worn-down state, the heart of the greenhouse—the central garden bed—still had a spark of life. In the center stood a single tree, its branches stretching upward toward the broken glass ceiling. Against all odds, it appeared healthy, its bark dark and sturdy. Even though the trunk was covered with moss and vines, it seemed to have endured. A small smile tugged at the corners of Cordelia’s lips as she reached out, gently brushing her fingers over the rough bark.

It was so much like the greenhouse that her father had promised to her when she was little. Even from a young age, she had had a green thumb. She had started with just flowers and pretty things like butterflies and how they liked to linger on the prettiestflowers. She wanted to make beautiful things grow and nurture them.

Every time that her father had traveled, he had always been sure to bring her back seeds that were native to wherever he had gone. Though, after he had died… she had ruined most of her garden. She had not understood. She could not grasp why a man who appreciated such beautiful things in the way that she did, would take his own life. It simply made no sense. He had seemed so happy.

This was not the time for tears.

Quickly, she brushed them from her face so she would not sour her new adventure with sorrowful memories. Her mother would come to at least pretend to appreciate the garden. But the enthusiasm was not the same. She appreciated beauty in the form of pretty, sparkly things like diamonds and jewels, new dresses, and fine paintings. Growing things and nature were not exactly her forte. Something that Cordelia had never begrudged the woman in the slightest.

But, at times like this, it only made her miss her father that much more.

As she circled the garden bed, something moved in the corner of her eye. A flicker of motion caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see a barn cat slinking in through a hole in the side of the greenhouse. The feline, a scrappy tabby with a patchy coat, prowled through the undergrowth, tail twitching as it stalked a small mouse darting across the floor.

Cordelia paused, watching the cat. He must have entered through the same panel that had saved Dorian’s life all those years ago. Perhaps he had made a home here, fending off the vermin. Cordelia knelt down slowly as the cat caught its prey, and when the feline noticed her, it hesitated, eyeing her warily.

“Good job, thank you for helping me clean up,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to offer a gentle pat. The cat gave a rumbling purr and brushed against her fingers before darting off. At least Cordelia was in good company here. First things first, she set off to start pruning anything dead and broken to be placed in a pile outside.

Before she knew it, she was humming again.

“I will see you later, all right?” Cordelia got up, leaving her breakfast plate half-empty.

She seemed to have started a whole new routine. Every morning, she hurried through breakfast just conversationally enough to be still considered polite before hurrying to the greenhouse. She had made remarkable progress in such a few days. It was harder to coax her inside for meals now, but Dorian was happy that at least she had something to occupy her time with. That was the point, was it not? He certainly hoped so.

Yet, the few times he encountered her in the halls, she still seemed paler than she ought to despite the sun she was getting. The exhaustion he could excuse as nothing more thanthe additional physical labor paired with the intimacy that they shared. But there was still something off that he could not quite put his finger on. He had even surrendered his pride enough to inquire with his sister if there was anything that she still complained about. But Mary said no every time. Matilde was at a loss, and naturally, Georgie did not see anything amiss at all. He was overjoyed to be helping his aunt in the gardens and was regaling them with vivid retellings of plant facts and explaining the various flora to them over dinner each night.