His gaze lingered on her, unreadable, before he stepped further into the room. He moved with the slow deliberation of a man contemplating if he should respond to her. Then he turned aside and walked to the far corner, where the fire’s glow reached only faintly. “Rarely,” he said at last. “I dislike it. I prefer my business matters kept close, handled here, alone.”
Dorothy inclined her head once more. “Very well,” she murmured, and silence pressed in on them. It grew thick and restless until she felt she must flee or suffocate beneath it. She drew in a breath, about to excuse herself, when his voice cut gently through the hush.
“About that day,” Magnus said in a low tone. “At the window.” He turned slightly toward her, the firelight catching the hard lines of his profile. “I know I may have been… over the top. I did not mean to undermine your ability to keep Eugenia safe. If you felt offended, then I beg you to believe, it was never my intention.”
Dorothy straightened, her hands twisting lightly in the folds of her gown. She studied him for a moment, then asked quietly, “Do you wish to tell me why you were so flustered by it?”
He looked at her then, directly and with such intensity that she felt the question tremble in her own chest. His eyes did not waver, nor did his composure break. “No,” he answered simply. “I do not.”
“Why not?” Dorothy pressed, her voice quiet but unflinching. “Is it because it would make you vulnerable?”
The faintest shadow of amusement touched his mouth. “I am not familiar with the term vulnerability,” he said.
She nearly retorted, nearly told him that she had seen it herself, plain as day, in his eyes that afternoon by the window. The unguarded flicker, the fracture in his immovable façade. But she held her tongue, unwilling to test him further, unwilling to watch him draw those walls higher. Instead, she inclined her head with grace.
“Very well,” she said softly. “I wish you well on your trip, Your Grace. You need not worry. I shall not take Eugenia to the lake. Nor shall I place her by any windows. We shall dine together, keep her to her lessons, perhaps even resort to card games or other dull diversions. That will be enough.”
Something unreadable crossed his expression then, the barest shift in the line of his mouth. “Thank you.”
“If you’re going on this business trip, Your Grace, perhaps you could bring something back for Eugenia?”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of skepticism and mild amusement. “I fail to see why that would be necessary. She has everything she needs.”
“It would be… nice,” she said softly, leaning just a little closer, though not enough for him to notice her pulse quicken. “Something small, nothing extravagant, but a little gift for her. My papa used to do that when we were little, and it made me very happy. It would make her happy.”
He let out a short, reluctant laugh, shaking his head. “What, pray tell, would make a little girl happy?”
Dorothy tilted her head, pretending to consider, though ideas tumbled quickly into her mind. “A small doll. Or perhaps a book, something with pictures. Maybe even a wooden horse that wobbles when you push it though I fear it might tumble over.” She let her lips twitch. “If it falls, well, it’s allowed to fall. She will learn resilience.”
Magnus’s brow furrowed slightly, and she caught it immediately. There was a faint tightening around his eyes, as if he were weighing how he would possibly accomplish this. Like he had no clue in the world how to get the gifts she spoke of. She felt a tickle of amusement at the look on his face, and before she could stop herself, a laugh escaped her.
He blinked at her, caught off guard. “What is so amusing?”
Dorothy pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to hide her grin, but the warmth in her chest made her unable to fully contain it. “Your face, Your Grace,” she said simply, still laughing.
“My face?” His tone carried both surprise and disbelief.
“Yes. You… look confused. Dazed. Like you have no idea where or how to find these things for a little girl.” She laughed again, soft and musical, unable to stop herself.
Magnus’s lips twitched, then a small, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corners. “Why does this amuse you?”
“I don’t think I have ever seen anyone make that face,” she said, letting the word slip out before she could stop herself. “Like you have no plan, no… idea.”
He leaned back slightly, a dazed sort of wonder in his gaze, and then, quietly, almost warmly, he said, “I have no idea.”
Dorothy’s laughter softened into a smile. “Well, I can write you a contact. A name. If you make it to London, this person can show you where to find all the things Eugenia would love.”
Magnus inclined his head and gave a small, grateful nod. “Thank you. Truly.” He paused, a faint edge of something like pride or disbelief in his expression. “That’s the first time anyone has ever laughed at my face.”
Dorothy’s grin widened. “Again, I’ve never seen anyone make that kind of face before. It’s… rather charming.”
He laughed, a soft, unguarded sound that seemed to fill the corners of the room. Dorothy felt a warmth in her chest she hadn’t expected. For a moment, it was like the first time she’d seen a hint of the man behind the title, the discipline, the cold control. He looked… human. Real.
“I wish you a safe trip,” she said, brushing her hand along the edge of the desk as she turned.
Magnus straightened. “Please do not forget the name. You will bring it to me, yes?”
“I shall,” she replied, smiling, and with that, she left.
