Page 87 of Bound to the Heartless Duke
She heard no creaking of floorboards or rustling of paper. There was only silence. She knocked once, and when she opened the door, her guess was confirmed.
The room was empty.
The bed was made, as though it had never been slept in. The hearth was cold. His boots were gone.
Magnus had already left.
Her shoulders sank under the weight of bitter disappointment. Of course, he had. Probably at the crack of dawn, before she had woken up. He must have done it intentionally.
Without any choice, she closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, her lips pressed into a thin line.
So much for her plan.
But her wallowing was interrupted by the sound of quick, purposeful footsteps echoing down the hallway.
“Your Grace?”
Lily turned to find a woman standing nearby. She was middle-aged, with a linen apron wrapped around her waist and a sharpness to her eyes that suggested she had run this household long before Lily had ever set foot in it.
“Mrs. Gunther,” the woman offered with a courteous bow. “Housekeeper at Blackmore Manor.”
“Oh,” Lily said, composing herself quickly. “Good morning.”
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace, but I thought it time we reviewed the estate accounts and operations, now that you’ve officially taken your place.”
Lily blinked. “You mean to say… today?”
The previous day was literally her wedding day, and Magnus didn’t even warn her beforehand.
Mrs. Gunther nodded her head, regardless. “There is no better time, Your Grace.”
Before Lily could protest, the woman had already begun walking, expecting her to follow.
And follow she did.
They walked down corridors and through galleries that Lily barely recognized. In contrast, Mrs. Gunther walked as if she had memorized every nook and cranny of the manor, details about the kitchen staff, garden maintenance, livestock orders, deliveries from London, and tenant disputes, all in a single breath.
“Lady Cecilia preferred goose feathers in her pillows, but His Grace finds them too soft,” Mrs. Gunther revealed as they passed the linen cupboard. “You may choose differently, of course, but I’d advise caution with the red damask drapery. His Grace doesn’t favor too much red in the west wing.”
Lily raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
Mrs. Gunther hesitated. It was brief, so brief that it might have gone unnoticed if Lily hadn’t been watching her closely.
“It reminds him of someone,” Mrs. Gunther said at last. “Someone he lost.”
A peculiar feeling settled in Lily’s chest. Her mind flashed to the theater.
Could it be about his aunt… or mum?
She didn’t ask more, though, and Mrs. Gunther didn’t elaborate further. But the ensuing tension marked the instructions that followed.
They continued on. They even visited the kitchens, where Lily charmed the head cook by asking for his recipe for duckà l’orange.
Upon reaching the greenhouse, she marveled at the abundance of orchids Magnus had cultivated for years. They were beautiful, delicate, and high-maintenance.
The tour around the vast estate made her realize that she had never thought managing one could feel so intimidating. It was a huge responsibility.
And yet, it seemed so much fun, if she was being honest with herself.
