Page 50 of Bound to the Heartless Duke
It had become an increasingly irritating pattern. One that Lily was determined to break, if not avoid altogether. But no matter where she went in the manor, Magnus was there—or worse, leaving, with that maddening smirk curving his lips like he’d anticipated her arrival down to the very second.
Something about him seemed different. That flicker of vulnerability she had spotted on the hill had been nowhere to be found since that moment.
She saw him that morning near the stables, where she had intended to fetch a letter Summer had left in the post satchel.
Magnus had been leaning against the fence, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, conversing with the stablehand. Upon seeing her, he had tipped his head (perhaps mockingly) and asked if she needed help locating “her betrothed’s love notes.” However, she had walked off without a reply.
The second time she saw him was near the back parlor, where she needed a quiet moment with a book. However, Magnus, being Magnus, had apparently felt the same need for silence and decided to lounge there with a glass of brandy while flipping through some political journal.
When she walked past him, he had lowered the journal with careful slowness and asked dryly, “Do you ever think about him when you’re alone with your thoughts? Mr. Bailey, I mean.”
She remembered how she had shot him a glare; she couldn’t understand his obsession with her and Mr. Bailey.
The third time she saw him was in the drawing room. She had drawn to a halt in the doorway. And there he was again, stretched out on her favorite chair by the window, a book balanced carelessly in his hand.
“I’m beginning to think you’re following me,” she said, unable to help herself.
Magnus looked up without blinking. “Ah, so you’ve finally noticed.” He smirked.
She stepped into the room, folding her arms tightly across her chest like armor. “What do you want?”
He closed the book with deliberate calm and placed it on the side table. “I’ve been watching you.”
“Well, that much is clear,” she scoffed, but her voice cracked slightly.
“And I’ve been thinking…”
He stood up and approached her slowly, with a casualness that made her heart stutter, skipping like a stone over water.
“This little arrangement with Mr. Bailey won’t last,” he declared matter-of-factly.
Lily blinked in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His voice was calm, but there was tension beneath it, something wound tight like a spring.
“Just because you don’t think he’s suitable, doesn’t mean I agree,” she huffed, lifting her chin stubbornly, her fingers curling around her elbows like she needed something to anchor her.
“I know you don’t agree,” he said, his hands tucked behind his back, though his posture was anything but relaxed. “You laughed when he compared his coat buttons to Grecian coins.”
“They did look like coins,” Lily muttered.
Magnus gave a faint smile. “Don’t lie, Lily. You were trying not to double over with laughter.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose. “What is your point, Magnus?”
He stepped closer, his dark gaze narrowing. “My point is that you’ll tire of the farce. And when you do, when you realize that marrying a man who refers to himself in the third person is a terrible fate, I’d like to offer you an alternative.”
“An alternative,” she echoed, furrowing her brow in confusion.
He paused, deliberately prolonging the silence. “Yes.”
“Surprising. Who?”
His voice dropped slightly. “Me.”
For a beat too long, Lily forgot how to breathe. Her chest felt too tight, her throat too dry. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
Eventually, when she remembered how teasing he could be, she let out a laugh. Yet, it lacked conviction.
