Page 47 of My Fated Alpha: The Royals

“Thank fuck.” Ilie released the breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding until that moment.

“Milord.”

“Forgive me.” He lifted her hand to his lips. When he released her, he asked one last time, “You are sure about this?”

Thinking he was too intuitive for his own good, she lied, “It is only an announcement of our engagement, milord. It is not equivalent to agreeing to be your heartkeeper.” Flushing, she also added, “It is also to prevent any scandal from being attached to my name, in the event that people find out I’ve allowed you certain...liberties—-”

He laughed. “And for a moment there, I actually thought you were becoming biddable.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“Also, liberties, you say?” He tweaked her nose, surprising her. “I know you can do better than that, milady, considering those books you secretly love to read——”

Oh!

Picking up her skirts, she whirled away from him, saying in a huff, “Good night, milord.”

But again, he stopped her from leaving.

“Milady.”

He pulled her towards him without turning her around, her back against his chest.

She had the craziest urge to cry.

“W-what is it?”

“Nothing is truly wrong?”

She bit her lip hard.Nothing.She whispered it in her mind because if she spoke, she knew she would not be able to stop herself from crying.

Chapter Eight

The ball, held by the Earl and Countess of March, was heralded a wild success, one of those events that would be talked about probably until the next Season and the one following. It was not because they had served the best food or prepared the best entertainment. Rather, it was for the simple reason that the ball was the only party that the esteemed Marquis of Lunare had chosen to attend.

Every unmarried female in the ball had their adoring gazes glued to him while their matchmaking mamas schemed of ways to lure him into a marriage trap. But first they had to get him alone, and that did not seem possible at all, with the marquis seemingly disinclined to leave the Orphelines’ side.

Granted, they were of a good family, and the eldest daughter, Soleil, was a diamond of the first water but, it must also be said, the matrons privately ranted, that Charles was a mere baron. Surely the marquis would wish for someone with bluer blood or perhaps a greater fortune?

And so they continued to vent their frustrations, but none of them were able to find the courage to approach the marquis. He looked too cold, too aloof, too...noble. It would be horrible, so very horrible, if the marquis gave any of them the cut direct!

“Good evening again, milord,” Fleur greeted the marquis as she took the vacant seat next to him.

“Good evening, milady.”

Following his gaze, she saw that the marquis was scowling at the way her eldest sister held court at the opposite side of the ball. It was a familiar sight for her, but she was guessing it was the marquis’ first time to witness just how many faithful swains Soleil held entranced.

“Jealous?” she asked mischievously.

The marquis turned to her. “You do know who you are talking to, yes?” An elegant brow lifted.

“My sister’s overly possessive betrothed?” she guessed.

Ilie ignored that. “Tell me. Have you noticed anything strange about her?” Something about Soleil had been bugging the hell out of him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Frowning, Fleur considered the question seriously, knowing that the marquis wasn’t the type to idly ask questions. “Well, she has become nicer than usual.”

Yes, that was it,he realized. Soleil had been nicer, but only someone like Fleur, who had known his heartkeeper her entire life, would have recognized it right away.

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