Page 18 of Bound to the Heartless Duke (Regency Beasts #4)

M agnus left the house before breakfast was cleared. He didn’t bother with excuses, though Nathan mentioned something about staying for tea with Lady Crowhurst and her tedious daughters.

He needed air, not irrelevant conversations with nosy twins.

The air he needed was not the kind he would find in drawing rooms with heavy drapes and heavier expectations. Not in Lily’s shaky breaths when her eyes looked at him like she wasn’t sure whether to hate him or beg him to stay.

He hurried out of the house, the crunch of gravel under his boots his only companion. He moved past the hedgegrows, the weathered fields, walking as fast as possible.

He needed distance from the house, from Nathan, from her.

Especially her.

The sun hung like a punishment above him, glaring down on the estate as if it knew every secret buried in its soil.

It had been a week since Ronald Bailey’s visit, and the heat hadn’t broken in days, reminding him of the tension between him and Lily.

However, as he walked, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It had been easier when she was just Nathan’s sister. When she was just Cecilia’s friend. But now, she had dimensions. Edges. Every single thing about her did. Her voice, the way she moved like she was always holding something back, and the genuineness of her smile when it wasn’t directed at him.

He had tried to stay detached. God knows he’d tried. But then she had stood in that drawing room, fire in her eyes and desperation thick in her voice, and he knew. The same way he would know when a storm was coming. Inevitable. Unstoppable.

“You deserve more.”

He shouldn’t have said it; he hadn’t meant to. It was none of his business. And yet the words had come out without permission, and her face?—

Christ , the way she had looked at him…

When did he become like this?

He rubbed a hand over his face, cursing under his breath.

It wasn’t just Lily. It was Nathan, too.

Her brother had always had a reckless streak, but this was different. Nathan had become increasingly annoying, having wrapped all his hope around Ronald Bailey as if the man were a lifeline. As if the man’s mere interest in his sister could wipe away years of poor decisions.

Magnus didn’t believe and had never believed in salvation through suitors. And Lily sure as hell didn’t need saving. She was supposed to be more than that.

Yet, watching her make herself smaller to make Nathan feel taller… it got to him, more than it should.

The wind picked up as he crossed the last hill overlooking the southern pasture. When he got there, he paused, letting the breeze dry the sweat on his neck.

Now, this was the air he was talking about. Below him, the land stretched out toward the horizon, dotted by broken carts and rusted troughs with the occasional one-armed scarecrow.

Medlin had once thrived. That was evident. So had Lily.

Magnus sat on the low stone wall that wrapped around the field, letting the silence settle around him. He could still feel the ache in his chest, except now it was full and constant. He had thought the distance would help, yet there his mind was, returning to everything that concerned her .

He didn’t want to want her. It complicated things. She wasn’t his to want.

But every time she looked at him like she knew something he didn’t, every time she flinched at the truth but didn’t run from it, drew him closer. Every touch, every almost kiss. It pushed him against his better judgment. Against logic.

Hell, against his survival instincts.

He didn’t need another war, especially not one of his own making.

“Running off again?”

The voice startled him enough that he nearly dropped his coat. He twisted around, brows lifting to show his surprise. He had not expected to be found there.

Especially not by her .

Lily stood before him, her hair pinned up in a messy bun, her cheeks flushed from the heat and her walk. She hadn’t dressed up for town or tea. She wore nothing but a simple blouse and a grass-stained skirt, and a stubborn expression.

“Did Nathan send you?” Magnus asked, his voice rough.

She rolled her eyes. “Nathan thinks you’re off seducing old Lady Cartwright. I told him you were likely brooding in a field.”

He huffed a laugh despite himself.

“And you came to confirm?” Helooked up at her.

She walked closer. “I came because I’m tired of your pretending you don’t care.”

That stopped him cold.

She looked at him, really looked at him for a long while. In that moment, the sun felt even brighter with the loud silence.

“I don’t,” he lied with a shrug.

“You do.”

He stood up then, the tension winding tightly under his skin. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t change anything.”

She folded her arms and jutted her chin stubbornly. “Why not?”

“Because you’re not mine to want.”

There, he said it. Finally.

As much as his words affected her, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. The only thing she did was hold his gaze like it was all that mattered.

“I’m not anyone’s to want,” she said quietly. “That’s the point.”

The wind shifted, and he took a step toward her before he could stop himself.

“Do you think I want this?” she continued, her voice breaking slightly. “That I lie awake at night, dreaming of Mr. Bailey’s shipping empire and his gossip of a mother? I don’t. But Nathan is unraveling, and I’m the only thing keeping him from breaking apart.”

“I never asked you to be,” Magnus said, his tone somber.

“No. You just stand there and judge me for it.”

That hit its mark. It made him swear under his breath and clench his fists at his sides.

He turned away, wanting to simply return to his solitude, but she wasn’t finished.

“You think it’s easy for me?” she asked. “Watching him pin all his hopes on a man I can barely stand, knowing he’s doing it for me. For the idea of me. Because I’m his one chance to save this place.”

Magnus slowly turned back to her.

“You don’t owe him your future,” he stated.

“No. But I owe him something. I also owe you something. I made you a promise—to give you money in order to get back the manor.”

Something fragile hovered between them, and he stepped closer, eyeing her with an intensity that she could feel deep in her bones.

“And what do you owe yourself?” he murmured.

Her eyebrows drew down. She didn’t answer, not with words.

She didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps she did, but she was afraid to voice it. All she did was stare at him.

Magnus moved before he could think. One step, then another, until he was close enough to see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Close enough to feel her breath.

“Lily,” he whispered.

She swallowed. He was looking at her like that yet again.

She shook her head and took a step back, breaking whatever spell had held them both.

“I can’t,” she mumbled. “Not if I’m going to do this.”

He nodded slowly, not even trying to change her mind, the space between them suddenly cold. “I know.”

She looked at him for a moment, like she wanted to say more, but in the end, she didn’t.

“I should go,” she sighed. “Nathan’s expecting me.”

Magnus knew that was a lie, but he nodded again without protest. He did not even raise a finger.

Lily turned around slowly and walked away without another word.

Magnus stayed on the hill for a while longer before leaving for town. However, every single second, his mind kept replaying their conversation, his heart pounding like he’d just lost something important.

Maybe he had.

By the time Magnus returned from town, the heat had given way to dusk, and the atmosphere pulsed with the low energy that came with evening.

Carriages clattered by, and the echo of laughter reminded him of his friends.

He didn’t want to go to the club. But he wasn’t ready to return to Medlin Manor, either. Not while Lily’s voice still rang in his ears. Not when her words still echoed in his mind, the weight of them hurting like a bruise just beneath his ribs.

Eventually, he decided, why not?

Edwin was the first to spot him, flagging him down outside Harrington’s, grinning like a man who had never suffered consequences in his life.

Magnus allowed himself to be led inside.

The club looked just as he had left it the last time. Wood paneled, dimly lit, overperfumed. He spotted a few familiar faces that nodded in greeting, a table covered with cards, and small smoke rings curling up in the air.

Edwin didn’t waste time making himself at home.

He slung one arm across the back of his chair and nursed a glass of brandy in the other.

William, one of his best friends and the Duke of Mayfield, joined them shortly, sitting across from him.

Despite being the proper one, he had loosened his cravat a touch.

“Look who the wind dragged in,” Edwin said cheerfully as Magnus took a seat. “We were beginning to think that Medlin swallowed you whole.”

Magnus wasn’t surprised by that remark. After all, rumors flew across town like birds. However, he didn’t answer immediately. He reached for the decanter instead and poured himself a glass of brandy.

William reclined in the chair beside him, his shrewd eyes watching every move. “If you joined us here for a night of sulking, I must say I could’ve stayed home with my wife and child.”

“And missed the exquisite scent of pipe smoke and desperation?” Magnus muttered, before raising the glass to his lips.

“You’ve become gloomy,” Edwin observed, setting down his glass “That house is doing things to you.”

Magnus’s gaze flicked toward him immediately. “You mean the manor?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean the people in it,” Edwin clarified, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’m not sure ‘people’ is the right word,” Magnus drawled. “It’s more like one exasperating woman, one self-righteous brother, and servants who keep offering me warm bread and worried glances.”

William’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he sat forward. “Eveline told me about you living with the Medlins.”

Magnus said nothing. Like he said, rumors flew across town like birds.

Well, except in his case, it wasn’t a rumor.