Page 30 of Bound to the Heartless Duke (Regency Beasts #4)

T he next morning, Lily awoke with a single-minded purpose.

She would make Magnus Wyndham break every last rule he had set for their marriage. Every damn one.

The morning sunlight streamed through the wide windows of her chamber like the warmest gold. Her sheets have held her restless frame throughout the night as the sharp finality of his voice echoed in her mind.

“Not tonight. Not ever.”

A lie. It had to be.

He wanted her. She’d felt it, seen it in his eyes, tasted it in the tension that snapped between them like a lightning splitting the night sky.. If he thought a few cold words could push her away, then he didn’t know her at all.

Wrapping herself in her robe, Lily slipped out of her chamber, her heart beating with a quiet, expectant, hopeful rhythm.

She didn’t bother summoning her lady’s maid to assist her. No, she wanted to go to her husband disheveled, unguarded, like every woman was after waking up. She wanted him to see her like this, in this morning light.

But when she crossed the corridor to his room and reached the door, she paused.

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 duck à 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.

Every corner brought a question to her inquisitive mind. Although she had visited before as Cecilia’s friend, she had never ventured this deep into the manor.

At one point, she had suggested repainting the drawing room.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Mrs. Gunther said, her tone firm but polite. “His Grace will not like it.”

Lily said nothing. But the idea rooted in her mind like a stubborn seed.

Let him dislike it, she had quietly told herself. Let him see that she wasn’t going to tiptoe her way through this marriage.

She would make herself familiar with his home, and she would certainly leave her mark. Even if he tried to leave no room for her. Even if he pretended not to care.

She would make him realize that she wasn’t easy to shut out.

When the sun dipped low in the sky, Lily retreated to her room, heavily exhausted. Her pink slippers were covered with dust from the walk outside, and at that moment, her brain filled with nothing but ledgers and names and menus.

But for the first time since she’d arrived at Blackmore Manor, she didn’t feel like a guest.

She felt like a duchess. Like someone meant to be there.

And despite the sting of Magnus’s absence, despite his rejection the night before, a smile touched her lips.

Let him feign indifference. She would be patient, but certainly not idle.

She would tempt him. She would make him burn. She would make him need her again.

When evening fell over the manor, and after she had taken a warm bath, she changed into a lavender gown that hugged her figure most adorably.

With a book resting idly on her lap—though the words blurred before her eyes—she sat in the receiving room wondering when her husband would come back home. Especially with the continuous rain, she couldn’t help but worry.

And then, suddenly, she heard distant footfalls. Immediately, she looked up, like a puppy hoping its master had returned from a long day away from home.

A knock sounded at her door, and her breath caught.

“Come in,” she said, her voice tight.

She knew it was not one of the servants. There was a certain way her husband walked and sounded. His stride was purposeful and rhythmic as though he marched. It seemed even if he had left the battlefield, his training hadn’t left him.

The door opened, and there he stood.

Magnus.

His dark hair was damp from rain, his green coat buttoned halfway, revealing the waistcoat beneath.

She stood up at the sight of him, noticing the weariness in his posture, but then…

His eyes. The moment they met hers, they flickered with exhaustion.

They held their stare for a moment before she broke the silence. “I was not expecting you.”

He stepped in, shutting the door behind him. “You’re my wife. I would be remiss if I did not check on you.”

She let out a faint chuckle that lacked humor.

Great of him to say, especially after treating her the way he had the previous night.

“Check on me,” she repeated dryly. “How very husbandly of you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I was delayed. Business in the city ran long.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So long that you missed breakfast… and lunch?” She folded her arms. “Because it was quite clear you wanted to avoid me in the morning.”

“I didn’t eat,” he admitted simply. “There wasn’t time.”

“Then you must be starving.”

He nodded once. “I suppose I am.”

A beat passed. Then, she took a few steps forward, before crossing the room.

“Well,” she said in a casual tone, “as your wife, it is my solemn duty to ensure you do not waste away.”

He studied her, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “You mean to feed me yourself?”

“I do,” she said, tilting her chin up. “We shall dine in the west dining room. I had the fire lit there earlier. I hear it’s very romantic.”

Magnus stared at her for a moment, before muttering under his breath, “Romantic.”

“You have something against romance, Your Grace?” Lily cocked her head.

His eyes softened briefly. “Only when it is used as a weapon.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Then prepare for battle.”

And then she brushed past him, chuckling to herself.

The dinner she had prepared sat right in front of them. Not in the grand dining hall, but rather in the small, intimate west dining room, where the fire crackled and the storm outside could be heard.

Across the table, Lily made conversation. She had asked about his business, the staff, and every other thing she had learned earlier today. And all the while, she would lean just a little forward, with her tone a little breathless, and her smile a little knowing.

Magnus recognized every attempt. And successfully blocked each one like a knight blocking arrows.

Even when she reached for the bottle of claret, he would fill her glass before she could ask.

Even when she attempted to lean toward him, he gently moved his chair to create more space.

Even when she smiled sweetly and let her fingertips brush his sleeve when he passed the salt, he would politely move his hand away.

By the end of the meal, her patience was in shreds.

“You’re impossible,” she huffed, setting her fork down with an irritated clink.

Magnus glanced up, his expression neutral. “Am I?”

“You know precisely what I’m doing.”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“And you’re choosing to… what? Play the monk?”

He let out a slow breath and reached for his wine. “This again.”

She stood up abruptly, pushing back her chair, and crossed to him with slow steps. “Why are you so cold?”

“I’m not cold,” he said calmly. “I’m resolved.”

“To what? To punish yourself?”

His gaze snapped to hers, sudden and sharp. She’d hit a nerve. It was obvious.

But Magnus, being Magnus, managed to compose himself. “You think this is punishment?” he asked, his voice low.

Lily paced before the fire, her arms crossed over her chest. “You won’t touch me. You won’t speak to me unless absolutely necessary. You say I’m your wife, and yet every time I try to act like one, you freeze like I’ve set fire to your skin.”

“You deserve more than?—”

“Than what?” she cut in, rounding on him. “Than a man who wants me?”

Magnus stood up and nodded once. “Than a man who married you when you didn’t want to marry at all.”

She blinked. “That’s not what I said.”

“No,” he said softly, stepping closer, “but it is what you felt. I saw it in your eyes, Lily. I still see it in your eyes.”

“And yet you still want me.”

His mouth tightened. “Wanting isn’t the same as deserving.”

She shook her head. “What nonsense. Desire isn’t shameful, Magnus.”

“It is,” he said, “when it clouds your judgment. When it drives you to madness. When it hurts the very thing you’re trying to protect.”

Lily’s chest ached with something raw and fierce. “Is that what I am to you? A thing you’re trying to protect from… yourself?”

He didn’t answer. The silence was confirmation enough. But when he finally found his voice, he could only utter her name.

“Lily—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, swallowing hard. “Don’t you dare tell me that you care if you intend on keeping that part of yourself locked away.”

“Better that than opening it and destroying everything in its wake.”

She turned to face him fully. “Why did you marry me, Magnus?”

The words were so quiet, they barely escaped her lips. And yet, they slammed into him with the force of a storm.

She looked up at him, her chin trembling slightly. “Why me? Why marry me and set all these rules?”

He opened his mouth, hoping he would be brave enough to tell her the truth he had once told Cecila. The fear that he might have fallen in love with her.

But then he closed his mouth, because the truth was too messy. Too heavy. Too much.

“I told you,” he replied, eventually. “Because you needed someone. And I could give you the manor?—”

“Liar,” she scoffed. “Tell me the real reason, or don’t. But don’t expect me to keep waiting for someone who won’t let himself want me.”

And then she turned on her heel and stomped to the door. But just before she stepped out into the hallway, she looked over her shoulder and said the one thing that would haunt him long into the night.

“Because I might not wait for too long.”

Then, she disappeared into the shadows.