Page 23 of Bound to the Heartless Duke (Regency Beasts #4)

T hree days had passed, and neither of them spoke a word about what had happened in the drawing room.

Lily had begun to measure time not by the ticking of the clock in the hallway, but by avoided glances, the sound of his footsteps, and the cold echo of a touch that hadn’t come again.

The house had found its usual rhythm. Meals were served at the usual hours, Summer dashed through the halls with small observations and softer warnings, and Nathan stayed out after late hours. And yet, nothing felt normal. Not to Lily.

Because the silence had grown loud. Loud enough to choke her.

She sat at the breakfast table now, staring at a slice of untouched toast, its edges browned just so. She’d grown to hate the smell of toast, so she pushed the plate away.

The door behind her opened suddenly. She didn’t turn around at first, not wanting to get her hopes up. But then the air shifted in a way that confirmed her guess. Eventually, she turned her head.

Magnus.

She stiffened, her fingers curling around the porcelain handle of her teacup. Her breath caught, even as she kept her expression blank.

Magnus said nothing for a moment, only crossed the room with those quiet, measured steps that managed to fill the whole space. Always too composed. Always too distant.

Until he wasn’t.

Until that day.

Lily looked up slowly, meeting his gaze across the room. His coat was dusted from the wind and the morning chill, his hair tousled slightly from riding. He looked as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn’t held her like she was the only real thing left in a world made of duty and stone.

But she had changed.

Everything had.

“I trust you’re well,” he said in the same even tone he used with tenants and estate managers.

Her lips curled into a dry smile. “I was wondering when you’d remember I existed.”

He blinked, only once. But it was enough to tell her that he’d felt the sting of her words.

He approached the table, and when he stopped beside her chair, she finally noticed the tight set of his jaw, the lines around his eyes.

Not untouched by the past days, then. Just better at hiding it.

“I’ve come to speak to you properly,” he said. “About the matter we last discussed.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean the part where you kissed me senseless and then vanished for three days?”

His jaw tightened further. “Yes, that matter.”

Lily stood up slowly, smoothing her skirts with deliberate calm. “Well then,” she said, turning to face him fully, “by all means, Your Grace. Speak properly.”

Magnus’s gaze darkened for half a breath, and she knew the sarcasm hadn’t escaped him. But he kept his posture relaxed and his tone rather professional.

“I’m offering marriage. Once again.”

She stared at him, her mouth dropping open. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“I heard you. I’m asking if you’ve lost your mind,” she huffed. “For three days, you acted like nothing happened, and here you are, asking for my hand in marriage once again?”

He exhaled slowly. “This is not a romantic proposal.”

She scoffed. “Obviously.”

“It is, however, a logical one,” he continued.

She gave a short laugh, dry and brittle. “Oh, how delightful. Nothing sets the heart racing quite like logic.”

Magnus ignored the sarcasm and stepped closer. “Bailey is no longer an option, I presume?” He raised an eyebrow.

Her jaw tightened at the glint in his eyes. “Why are you so confident?”

“You let me touch you.” His voice lowered, and the tension between them crackled. “In ways you wouldn’t let anyone else.” He stepped even closer. “And Nathan’s debt won’t vanish. This house still hangs in the balance.”

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t flinch. “So, you propose to save my reputation? How noble.”

He didn’t answer, not directly. Instead, he met her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered in them—something that looked suspiciously like regret.

“This marriage,” he said, his voice quieter now, “would be in name only.”

Lily paused, realizing that she had indeed not understood his point till this moment.

“What do you mean?” She blinked.

“I mean,” he said, “whatever happened between us, it ends there. There will be no continuation. No repetition. Not unless an heir is required. And even then, it will be handled with decorum.”

She felt as if the wind was knocked out of her.

“Handled? Happened?” She blinked again. “You mean… intercourse, Your Grace?”

His jaw clenched. “This arrangement is for stability. To prevent you from marrying Bailey. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” she echoed in a low tone.

“Yes,” he said, locking eyes with her. “Because,” he continued, the words coming fast and brittle for the first time, “I would rather tie my future to yours than watch you be bound to a man like Bailey. Because I cannot—will not—stand by while Nathan gambles away what little you have left. And because this is the only way I know how to protect you without…” He faltered. “Without making more mistakes.”

The room suddenly became smaller. Denser. Lily tried to breathe, but the air was too thick with things left unsaid.

“You could’ve told me this days ago,” she whispered.

“I needed time.”

“You needed distance ,” she corrected. “And now you come back not as a man, but as a duke with terms and conditions,” she almost sneered.

It sounded more like him.

Magnus didn’t flinch, however. “I come back offering you a choice.”

She looked down, then back at him. “A cold bed. A cold title. And a colder man.”

He was almost unrecognizable.

For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then, quietly, “Yes.”

With a dry chuckle, Lily turned away. She crossed the room, pausing by the hearth where the fire had long since burned down to ashes. She rubbed her arms, though there was no chill in the air.

Then, her voice came, softer now. “And you feel nothing?”

His silence was answer enough.

“I should say no,” he then said.

She closed her eyes. “You’re free to,” she said bitterly. “Because even a cold marriage with you is better than the life Nathan would readily sell me into.”

She turned back, meeting his gaze with something akin to defiance, maybe even resignation.

“I accept.”

The words came faster than she had expected, but Magnus didn’t react. No flicker of relief, no gratitude, except for a solemn nod.

“You can take some time to think about?—”

“What’s the point?” she cut in with a shrug. “We can carry on like nothing ever happened. And I will get the manor back. Sounds like a sweet deal for me.”

“What about Nathan?” He tilted his head.

“You didn’t think about that before making your proposal, Your Grace?” she questioned. “Anyway, don’t worry. I will deal with it.”

Lily turned before he could answer, her skirts swishing as she crossed the room. She didn’t look back, didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the storm that crossed her face once the door closed behind her.

Once she was in the hallway, her breath escaped with a rush.

It had become too easy to wear a mask around Magnus, but it cost her something every time.

As she ascended the stairs, she spotted a small stack of letters on the table by the landing.

It must have been delivered sometime that morning.

She picked up the bundle and leafed through them, eyeing the senders and stopping when she spied a particular one, dread curling in her stomach as she eyed the envelope.

She had forgotten all about him since their last encounter but seeing his name again on the letter reminded her of the anger she had seen in his eyes when she had made it clear she would not be so quick to make a decisison about marrying him.

Ronald Bailey.

She stared at it for a long moment. The script was formal, and the seal was meticulously pressed. Everything about the man had always been damn too neat.

She picked up the letter and sighed, not bothering to open it. Her fingers clenched the paper as she continued down the hallway and into her room, shutting the door behind her with a soft but final click.

Inside, the pale morning light filtered through the lace curtains, and the small fire crackled in the hearth. And yet, it brought her no warmth.

Summer entered only a moment later, her arms loaded with fresh linens and the usual energy she carried like a second skin. But she paused when she saw Lily sitting on the edge of the bed, the unopened letter held lazily in her hands.

“My Lady?” Summer asked carefully. “You look… out of sorts.”

Lily huffed a faint laugh. “That’s generous of you.”

Summer hesitated, then set the linens down before approaching. “Is it your brother again?”

Lily shook her head. “Not this time.”

Summer lowered herself onto the bench near her and folded her hands in her lap. “Then… is it the Duke?”

Lily looked up, startled by that guess. She had expected the maid to mention Mr. Bailey instead.

“What makes you ask that?”

Summer gave her a soft, knowing smile. “I see the way you look at him when you think no one’s watching. And more importantly, how you don’t look at anyone else.”

A faint flush crept into Lily’s cheeks at that, but she didn’t deny it. She couldn’t.

“It’s foolish,” she said after a beat. “I think I may have fallen in love… with the wrong person.”

Summer’s eyes softened. “Then it’s the Duke.”

Lily’s lips parted, a little shocked by how easily she had been read.

“Even you can tell?” she whispered.

Summer reached out and touched her hand gently. “Anyone with eyes can tell. You’re not the same when he’s in the room. You try harder to seem indifferent, and that’s the most telling thing of all.”

Lily turned her head away, blinking hard. “It’s not just Nathan anymore. It’s not even Mr. Bailey. It’s him. I can’t tell what Magnus truly wants, me or just the damned manor. Or maybe neither. Maybe it was just a moment of weakness between us and nothing more.”

Summer was quiet for a moment, before saying, “Perhaps. Or perhaps he’s just as afraid of feeling something as you are.”

Lily gave her a sharp look, but there was no malice behind it. Just pain. Just the hurt of brutal honesty.

“Follow your heart, My Lady,” Summer advised gently. “Or else you’ll spend your whole life wondering what would’ve happened if you did.”

A peaceful silence settled between them.

Suddenly, Summer stood up, her lips curling into a bright smile. “The tenants’ celebration, the one delayed last month due to the storm, is a good time to follow your heart, my Lady. If you dance with him there, perhaps…”

Lily blinked slowly. “You think I can corner him into a confession during a waltz?”

Summer laughed softly. “No. But maybe you can decide something for yourself. Maybe even tell your brother in public. No more hiding.”

Lily didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze drifted to the window, to the clear sky beyond.

“I wish Cecilia were here,” she whispered. “She’d know exactly what to say. She always does.”

Summer offered a sad little smile. “You have me instead.”

“And I’m grateful,” Lily said softly, truly meaning it.

She took Summer’s hand in her own. In response, the maid gave her hand a gentle squeeze before slipping out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Lily sat in the quiet for a while, busying herself with her embroidery long enough that the fire died down and the sky darkened.

Suddenly, a small knock sounded at the door, disrupting the silence.

No, it wasn’t at the door, but at the window.

She froze.

Another knock followed, sounding more like a click.

Eventually, she stood up and slowly moved to the window, drawing the curtain with doubtful fingers.

Below, in the moonlit garden path, she saw him. Magnus.

He looked up just as she saw him, one hand holding a stone, the other holding a folder tucked under his arm. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t move until her eyes met his.

Lily’s breath caught. What was happening?

Without thinking too hard, she turned around, grabbed a cape, and left her room, moving quietly down the stairs, her slippers barely making a sound against the wood.

She slipped outside through the servants’ entrance and crossed the short distance to the garden. By now, the moon was casting silvery light on the stone path, the scent of lavender thick in the air.

When she reached him, she folded her arms tightly, not because of the cold, but out of restraint.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone sharp out of habit more than desire. “Throwing rocks like a schoolboy?”

“I needed to speak with you privately,” Magnus said simply, before holding out the folder. “It’s the marriage contract.”

Her eyes widened. “You already had it drawn up?”

“I figured”—he stepped slightly closer—“we didn’t need to wait for Nathan.”

Her pulse jumped immediately.

Lily hated that her body still reacted to him like this, the way heat bloomed in places it shouldn’t, the way her breath caught at the sight of his sharp cheekbones.

He was devastatingly attractive.

But then she remembered his words that morning, and her heart rate slowed just as fast.

“You were right,” she said coldly. “Nathan didn’t ask my permission when he gambled away the house. Why should I need his now?”

Magnus studied her face but said nothing.

Lily looked at the folder, then at him. “I’ll sign it.”

His expression didn’t change; there was no satisfaction, no warmth. Just a curt nod.

At that moment, she felt hurt by the coldness with wwhich he handled the matter of their marriage.. The Magnus that had driven her to the edge of madness in the drawing room.

He didn’t want anything intimate between them all of a sudden?

“Very well,” he finally said.

She took the folder from his hand, stepped to the edge of the stone bench beneath the rose arch, and opened it with steady fingers. The ink was dark, and the empty line awaited her signature.

Taking a deep breath, she dipped the quill he offered in the small inkwell and then signed her name beneath his.

She wasn’t sure if she was making the right decision, but if following her heart was a terrible decision, then she would still go for it.

As the ink dried in the moonlight, silence fell between them. They both stared at their inked names, feeling something had just shifted between them. However, none of them said a word.