Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“You are getting married, Magnus, and you did not think to tell me? Your closest confidant?”
The words hit him the moment he crossed the threshold of his study in his London home. Magnus paused, coat still dusted from the day’s travel, as he found Rowan seated rigidly in the dimly lit study. Rowan’s eyes practically burned with disbelief.
Magnus removed his gloves slowly. “I was going to.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Going to? Do you not trust me enough to share the most significant decision of your life? Or did you think to face this alone?”
Rowan Clawridge, the Duke of Langridge, was a man whose presence commanded attention without effort.
He was known for his sharp intellect and cold ruthlessness in society.
Rowan possessed a dark sense of humor that often left others bewildered.
Magnus was sometimes frustrated as he was the only one who truly understood Rowan’s humor.
It was perhaps this very edge that kept others at a distance, leaving Rowan with few companions besides Magnus.
While many whispered about Magnus’s own ruthlessness, he knew that Rowan operated on an entirely different trajectory, a calculating force of nature few dared to challenge.
“Tell me everything,” Rowan demanded, voice low but insistent. “Do not leave out a single detail.”
Magnus met Rowan’s inquisitive gaze. He strolled over to his chair behind the desk and sat.
“It wasn’t planned,” he began carefully.
“I simply took advantage of a situation that presented itself with little effort. I had been considering the need for someone to help care for Eugenia for some time. When this rumor surfaced, absurd as it was, I realized there was no need to embark on a tedious search for a bride of convenience. The most convenient candidate was right there.”
Rowan arched a skeptical brow, folding his arms across his chest. “Convenient, yes. But hardly the sort of convenience one expects when dealing with matters as delicate as marriage and family. You’ve always been a man who prefers control, Magnus.
Yet this feels more like a gamble than a calculated move. ”
Magnus allowed himself a brief smirk. “Perhaps. But sometimes the best moves are made when one embraces chance rather than resists it. Dorothy Lockhart is bold—too bold for her own good, some would say. Yet that same fire is exactly what Eugenia needs. I don’t intend for this to be a mere formality; it’s a responsibility I cannot shirk. ”
“You’ve never been one for half measures. I only hope you understand the weight you’re placing on both Eugenia and this lady.”
“I do,” Magnus said. “I’ll see it through, no matter the cost.”
Rowan’s voice cut through the silence. “Who is she?”
“Dorothy Lockhart is the daughter of a viscount,” he responded.
“Is she beautiful?” Rowan pressed, leaning forward with a sly grin.
For a moment, Magnus’s mind drifted, and he found himself thinking not just of her face but her eyes.
The way they held a restless spark he couldn’t quite place.
He didn’t know why he was drawn to them, but deep down, he sensed that in time, the reason would reveal itself.
He thought of her curly brown hair, the delicate smoothness of her skin that seemed to glow softly in the light, and the subtle, comforting scent she carried, something faintly floral, yet earthy, like fresh rain on spring grass.
Her petite frame, somehow belying the fierce spirit within, and how her chest rose and fell with each nervous breath.
“Yes,” he said finally. “She is beautiful.”
Rowan snorted softly. “Oh, but things like that don’t shake you, do they, Your Grace? I never understand why. An average man would be so easily smitten by beauty.”
“I am not average.” Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care much for physical beauty.”
Rowan smirked, voice dripping with dry amusement. “You don’t care much for anything at all.”
“Why are you here, Rowan?” Magnus questioned, his patience thinning.
Rowan’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.
“I’m here because you’re about to do something monumentally foolish, and I’m your only chance at salvaging what little dignity you have left.
” He tapped a finger against the armrest. “More importantly, why wasn’t I invited to this secret council of matrimony? ”
Magnus shook his head. “It’s just an hour spent in a church, Rowan. I hardly thought it warranted a royal summons.”
“Oh, but it’s not just an hour,” Rowan said, wagging a finger. “You’re about to become a married man. You’re crossing into a whole new world, Magnus. This is important—momentous! You might want to keep me in the loop next time.”
Magnus rolled his eyes, unconvinced.
“Only you could treat marriage like a trip to the tailor’s. Mark my words,” Rowan sighed, and he dropped his hand. “All right, Magnus. Enough with the dramatics. Tell me how you did it. How did you ask for her hand?”
“How did I ask for her hand?” He gave a small shrug. “I demanded it at her wedding.”
Rowan blinked, momentarily speechless. “At her wedding?”
Magnus nodded, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Indeed. I arrived when she was about to walk down the aisle, confronted them with the rumor, then made my intentions clear. I would marry her since I allegedly ruined her. I spoke to her father, and he gave his blessing.”
Rowan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Only you, Magnus. Only you would turn a wedding into such chaos.”
“I caused no chaos,” Magnus argued.
“Of course, you would think that,” Rowan said. “But you’re truly only doing this for Eugenia? Not because you suddenly realized that you had turned thirty years old, and you were lonely, and unmarried?”
Magnus’s gaze sharpened, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Rowan. This has nothing to do with me. Eugenia has been miserable, withdrawn, and listless. She needs someone to care for her, to guide her. A motherly presence. That’s all this is.”
Rowan smirked knowingly, folding his arms. “Ah, but isn’t it convenient how this ‘practical’ arrangement just happens to require you to marry someone yourself? Makes one wonder if there’s a touch of self-interest hiding beneath the surface.”
Magnus met his friend’s gaze evenly. “I don’t have time for sentimentality or loneliness. This is business. Nothing more. You know me better than that.”
Rowan’s grin softened as he rose to his feet. “Of course, Magnus. But you might want to keep an eye on your own heart. Sometimes, it has a way of meddling in the best-laid plans.”
Magnus gave a curt nod, signaling the end of their conversation. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Rowan.”
Rowan smirked once more, his eyes gleaming with mischief, then turned toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, the door opened, and Eugenia entered the room carrying a small, intricately embroidered sampler; trailing behind her was her maid, Jenny.
Eugenia’s bright eyes flickered nervously between Magnus and Rowan, clutching the delicate piece of needlework as if it were a shield.
Magnus’s expression softened involuntarily, though he quickly masked it with his usual composed demeanor.
Rowan paused mid-step, raising an amused eyebrow at the unexpected intrusion.
“Well, what have we here?” Rowan asked, stepping forward cautiously.
Jenny cleared her throat politely and stepped forward, taking the beautifully embroidered sampler from Eugenia. “Miss Eugenia wished to show you what she has finished,” she said, her voice gentle.
Magnus rose from where he sat and approached them. He took the sampler from her and looked down at the delicate work, his usual sternness softening just a touch. He glanced at Eugenia, who barely dared to meet his eyes, shrinking further behind Jenny.
An awkward silence fell. Rowan, still standing by the door, raised an amused eyebrow. “Well done, Eugenia. That is impressive.”
Eugenia managed the faintest smile as Jenny gave a small curtsy, then quietly stepped back.
Magnus’s gaze lingered on Eugenia a moment longer, an unfamiliar warmth stirring within him, before he cleared his throat and shifted his attention back to the matter at hand.
“You say she made it by herself?” he asked Jenny.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered.
Magnus turned to Eugenia. “You made this yourself?”
Eugenia’s wide eyes flickered up for a brief moment, but she said nothing as she never did.
At ten years old, she had not spoken a single word since Magnus had taken her into his care.
Despite his efforts to find answers, employing numerous physicians and specialists, no one had been able to explain her silence.
Her muteness remained a mystery, and that fact weighed heavily on Magnus’s heart.
She was his late sister’s daughter, the last living connection to a past he guarded fiercely. Watching her now, quiet and withdrawn, only deepened the ache he carried inside.
Magnus’s eyes lingered on the delicate embroidery, but his mind was elsewhere.
He wondered if he was doing enough for Eugenia.
The question gnawed at him relentlessly.
Despite the endless business meetings, the endless calculations to keep the estate afloat, he couldn’t shake the worry that he was failing the one person who mattered most at home.
That was precisely why he had arranged for a motherly figure, a bride of convenience, who could offer Eugenia what he never could.
Warmth, guidance, and someone actively present to coax a spark of joy back into the girl’s silent world.
While Magnus managed the cold, hard realities of business, this woman would be the living presence in the house, gently working to bring life and laughter to Eugenia’s days.
It was not just a convenience. It was a necessity.
“Good job,” was all he said, returning the sampler to Jenny. “It’s late. She should be in bed.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Eugenia slipped quietly from the room, her head bowed low as if trying to make herself smaller, vanishing from sight like a fragile shadow.
Rowan, who had already started toward the door, paused and then turned sharply back. He fixed Magnus with a sharp look and crossed his arms. “You could have been a touch gentler, you know. A few kind words, a compliment here and there. That girl could use it. She’s as fragile as glass.”
Magnus said nothing, returning to his seat.
Rowan sighed but said no more. As he headed toward the door again, Magnus called after him. “Your invitation should reach your London residence tomorrow morning, Rowan. Prepare to attend.”
Rowan paused in the doorway, glanced back with a smirk, then disappeared into the hall, leaving Magnus alone with his thoughts.