Page 49 of Bound to the Heartless Duke
That earned him a chuckle from William. Even Magnus allowed himself the smallest of smiles.
“You were the most stubborn bastard I’d ever met,” Edwin said fondly. “Still are, probably.”
“Only when I’m right.”
“You’re rarely right,” William snorted.
“But always stubborn,” Edwin added, raising his glass.
They made a private toast, and for a brief moment, the air around the table lightened.
But the moment passed, and when the brandy burned less, when Magnus looked down into his empty glass, all he saw was Lily. And the mess he was making.
He could still smell her perfume—lavender and something softer, something warm, clinging to his coat. Or maybe to his skin.
He still remembered her smile from that morning, and the way she averted her gaze when it lingered too long on his mouth.
And her mouth…?
He’d tasted her once. And now, nothing else satisfied.
Shite.
He needed a proper distraction, one that would keep the girl off his mind at east until he succumbed to sleep and he wouldn’t get that with any of his current company so he rose, downing the last of his drink, making a poor excuse to leave.
Edwin shot him a look knowing he where he was headed but said nothing since William was yet to know of his proclivities. Even if he trusted his friend with his life, he didn’t want the manknowing the darkness that lurked inside him.
Forgoing his carriage after shirking off his coat and cravat, he hailed a hansom, running a hand through his hair for a less respectable look as he headed into the darker parts of London.
His man of affairs in his gaming hell, Sam, came up to his side as soon as he stepped through the doors.
“How are things this eve, Sam?” he asked, running his eyes across the room.
He noticed men of all repute playing at the oak tables on the lower floor of the room. Already a few had the desperate look in their eyes of men who had damn near lost everything and he couldn’t be more glad.
“Quiet, sir,” Sam answered not using his title as Magnus had warned him not to. “Although I sense a storm brewing soon. Lord Westbrook on table six just placed a bet using his faimly’s prized stallions. Gale will no doubt be ridding him of them soon.”
Magnus turned to see Gale, the scrawny lad with quick fingers whom he had employed to stir rup trouble when gamblers played too safely. The lad, no older than sixteen, had turned up outside the bar when he had been no older than ten and offered his services as a cleaner. He had quickly risen to work tables when he had outplayed one of Magnus’ fixers at that age.
Magnus accepted the proferred glass of whiskey and sat back in a corner to observe the table and soon, Lord Westbrook’s cry of outrage came. He signalled to Sam w ho hurried over with a wide grin.
“When do you want to collect your winnings, sir?”
“Bright and early tomorrow,” he answered. “Also, I believe its time Gale learned to ride as well.”
“Indeed, sir.” The man answered. “Will you be playing tonight?”
Magnus didn’t answer but looked around the room, eyeing a table in the middle of the room that looked too sedate for an establishment like his.
“Yes.” He answered, rising from his seat. “Table five.”
“Good choice sir.”
Magnus waved the man off and headed towards the table, keeping his stride lazy and a sedate smile on his face.
“Good evening gentlemen.” He greeted, sliding into the free seat. “Mind if I join you?”
CHAPTER 12
