Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

W ith a deep breath, Lydia squared her shoulders and pushed open the drawing room door, ready to face her parents and the future that awaited her as the soon-to-be Duchess of Fyre.

"Well?" her mother demanded the moment Lydia entered the room. "What did he say? Is the engagement settled?"

Lydia nodded, still feeling slightly dazed. "Yes, Mother. We are to be married in a fortnight."

Her father let out a sigh of relief, while her mother clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, Lydia! This is wonderful news. Just think - our daughter, a duchess!"

But Lydia hardly heard their excited chatter. Her mind was still reeling from the Duke's revelation and the unexpected intensity of their interaction. A son. A child who needed a mother. It changed everything, and yet... perhaps it changed nothing at all.

As she excused herself and made her way back to her bedchamber, Lydia found Mug waiting for her, his tail wagging tentatively. She scooped him up, burying her face in his soft fur.

"Oh, Mug," she whispered. "What have I gotten myself into?"

The little dog licked her cheek, as if to say, "Whatever it is, we'll face it together." And for the first time that day, Lydia felt a genuine smile tug at her lips.

She moved to the window, gazing out at the darkening sky. In the distance, she could just make out the Duke's carriage disappearing down the lane. Her heart fluttered strangely at the memory of his piercing gaze, the subtle hints of vulnerability she'd glimpsed beneath his stern exterior.

Whatever the future held, whatever challenges lay ahead at Fyre Manor, she would meet them . She was to be a duchess, a wife, and most importantly, a mother. It was not the future she had envisioned for herself, but perhaps... perhaps it could be something even better.

With that thought to comfort her, Lydia began to prepare for bed, her mind already turning to the preparations that would need to be made for her impending nuptials and the new life that awaited her as the Duchess of Fyre. And if, as she drifted off to sleep, her dreams were filled with stormy blue eyes and the faint scent of sandalwood, well... that was her secret to keep.

The carriage rattled over London's cobblestone streets, carrying Lydia and her three sisters towards Madame Hughes's renowned modiste shop. Despite the excitement of shopping for a wedding gown, a tense silence permeated the air.

Lydia glanced at her sisters' worried faces. Marian, the eldest after Lydia, sat rigidly, while twins Jane and Diana exchanged nervous looks.

"Really, now," Lydia said, injecting cheerfulness into her voice. "Why such gloomy expressions? This is meant to be a joyous occasion!"

Jane, always outspoken, burst out, "Joyous? Lydia, you're marrying the Beast of Fyre!"

"Jane!" Marian hissed, eyeing the carriage driver warily.

Lydia sighed, patting Jane's hand. "Don't believe everything in gossip sheets, dear one. I'm certain the Duke is a perfect gentleman."

"But Lydia," Diana whispered, "the stories we've heard... They say he never leaves his estate, that he's horribly scarred, or... or worse."

"Nonsense," Lydia said firmly. "I've met the Duke, remember? He's perfectly normal. Handsome, even, in a... stern sort of way."

Her sisters remained unconvinced as the carriage halted outside Madame Hughes's shop. Lydia took a deep breath, steeling herself. This was more than just dress shopping - it was the first step towards her new life as a duchess.

The shop's bell tinkled as they entered. Madame Hughes hurried forward, exclaiming, "Ah, the future Duchess of Fyre! Come, we must create a gown fit for royalty!"

As Lydia was whisked away for measurements, her sisters settled onto a plush settee, their worried whispers barely audible over rustling fabric.

"I cannot believe she's going through with this," Jane muttered.

Marian shushed her, but Diana nodded agreement. "It's so unlike Lydia. She's always been so... practical."

"That's exactly why she's doing it," Marian said softly. "Because she is practical. Do not be foolish, sister. She is doing this for us… for our futures."

Behind the dressing screen, Lydia heard snippets of her sisters' conversation. She closed her eyes, remembering the humiliation of her first season. The whispers, pitying glances, dance cards stubbornly empty. It was then, in her mortification, that she'd vowed to become the perfect lady, marry well, and restore her family's social standing.

"Lift your arms, please, my lady," Madame Hughes instructed, interrupting Lydia's thoughts. Obeying, Lydia caught her reflection. The half-pinned gown was already a marvel of silk and lace. She'd be a vision on her wedding day, she was certain.

"What do you think, mes cheries?" Madame Hughes called to Lydia's sisters. "Shall we show them?"

As Lydia emerged from behind the screen, her sisters gasped. For a moment, their worries seemed forgotten as they crowded around, exclaiming over the gown's exquisite details.

"Oh, Lydia," Diana breathed, "you look like a princess!"

"Better than a princess," Jane corrected, her usual mischief returning. "You look like a duchess."

Lydia smiled, admiring herself in the full-length mirror. "It's perfect," she said softly. "Absolutely perfect."

As Madame Hughes adjusted the gown's train, Jane's voice piped up, tinged with laughter. "Remember, Lydia, when you first started learning the pianoforte? I thought my ears would bleed!"

Diana giggled, covering her mouth. "Oh, yes! It sounded like a cat being strangled. But she wouldn't give up, would she? Practiced hours daily until she could play Beethoven in her sleep."

"Or when she decided she must master embroidery," Marian added, smiling fondly. "Remember how she pricked her fingers so often she could barely hold her teacup?"

Lydia's cheeks flushed, but she laughed along with her sisters. "Well," she said, lifting her chin proudly, "all that practice paid off, didn't it? I'd like to see any of you play a concerto or embroider a handkerchief half as well as I can now."

"That's our Lydia," Jane said affectionately. "Never gives up, no matter how difficult the task."

As her sisters reminisced about her self-improvement attempts, Lydia felt a surge of determination. They were right - she never gave up, regardless of the challenge. This marriage, this new life as a duchess, would be no different.

She'd vowed to be the perfect lady, which meant more than mastering social graces. It meant making advantageous connections, restoring her family's reputation, and providing an heir for her new husband. The thought warmed her cheeks, but she pushed aside any embarrassment or trepidation. This was her duty, and she'd fulfill it with grace and determination.

"You know," Marian said thoughtfully, "I think this marriage might be good for Lydia after all. If anyone can tame the Beast of Fyre, it's our stubborn sister."

Jane nodded, eyes glinting mischievously. "True. Remember when she decided to learn sidesaddle riding? Father said it was too dangerous, but Lydia wouldn't hear of it."

"Oh, I remember," Diana chimed in. "She fell off so many times, I thought she'd be black and blue forever. But she kept getting back on that horse, day after day."

Lydia smiled at the memory. "And now I can outride all of you, can't I?"

"That's not the point," Marian said gently. "The point is, you never give up, Lydia. No matter how difficult or scary something might be, you face it unflinchingly . That's why I think... I think you might be exactly what the Duke of Fyre needs."

Lydia felt a warm glow of pride at her sister's words. "Thank you, Marian. I intend to be the best wife and duchess I can be. The Duke may be intimidating, but I'm determined to make this marriage work."

"But Lydia," Diana said hesitantly, "what if... what if he's cruel? What if the rumors are true?"

Lydia turned to face her youngest sister, her expression serious. "Diana, I've met the Duke. He's stern, yes, and perhaps a bit cold, but he's not cruel. I believe there's more to him than the rumors suggest. And I intend to discover what that is."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "And if you can't? If he truly is the beast everyone says he is?"

Lydia lifted her chin, a determined glint in her eye. "Then I'll simply have to tame him, won't I? After all, I managed to tame that wild mare Father bought last spring. How much harder can a duke be?"

Her sisters laughed, the tension in the room finally breaking. As Madame Hughes returned with a selection of veils, the conversation turned to lighter topics - flowers for the bouquet, music for the ceremony, the guest list for the wedding breakfast.

As she stood there, surrounded by tulle and silk, Lydia's mind raced with plans for her future. She would be the perfect duchess, of that she was certain. She would charm the ton, host magnificent parties, and bring honor to the Fyre name. And perhaps, in time, she might even find a way to warm the Duke's cold heart.

"Lydia," Marian said softly, drawing her attention back to the present, "are you happy? Truly?"

Lydia paused, considering the question. Was she happy? Perhaps not in the way romantic novels described, with hearts aflutter and cheeks aglow. But there was satisfaction in knowing she was doing her duty, in knowing that she was on the path to achieving everything she had worked so hard for.

"I'm content," she said finally. "And I believe happiness will come, in time. This marriage is a chance to fulfill the vow I made to myself, to be the perfect lady and to restore our family's standing. One item on my list will soon be accomplished, and the rest will surely follow."

"Your list?" Diana asked, curiosity piqued.

Lydia nodded. "After my debut, I made a list of everything I needed to do to be considered the perfect lady. Marrying well was at the top, of course. But there's also making influential friends, hosting successful social events, perhaps even... siring an heir."

Her sisters exchanged glances at this last item, and Lydia felt heat rising to her cheeks. "I suppose that… it is part of a marriage," she muttered. "Though perhaps we will simply be… housemates."

"But Lydia," Jane protested, "surely there's more to life than just duty and social standing?"

Lydia smiled, reaching out to squeeze her sister's hand. "Of course there is. But for now, this is what I need to focus on. Who knows? Perhaps in fulfilling my duty, I'll find a deeper happiness than I ever imagined."

As Madame Hughes draped a gossamer-fine veil over Lydia's dark curls, she caught sight of herself in the mirror once more. The woman who gazed back at her was poised, elegant - every inch a duchess. For the first time since the engagement was announced, Lydia felt a flicker of excitement for her new role.

"Well," she said, turning to face her sisters with a bright smile, "what do you think? Am I ready to be the Duchess of Fyre?"

Her sisters exchanged glances, their earlier worry giving way to tentative hope. It was Marian who spoke first, her voice soft but sure. "You're ready to be anything you set your mind to, Lydia. You always have been."

As they left the shop, the gown carefully packaged and ready for delivery, Lydia felt a sense of purpose settle over her. One goal was nearly accomplished - she would be marrying well, securing her place in society. The rest, she was determined, would follow in due course.

She would win over the ton, charm them with her accomplishments and grace. She would be the perfect hostess, the ideal wife, the mother of future Dukes of Fyre. And perhaps, in time, she might even find a measure of happiness in her new life.

As they climbed back into the carriage, Jane nudged Lydia with her elbow. "So, future Duchess," she teased, "any chance you'll use your new influence to find suitable matches for your poor, unmarried sisters?"

Lydia laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Just you wait," she promised. "Once I'm settled at Fyre Manor, I'll have eligible bachelors lining up to court you all. After all, what gentleman could resist the charms of a duchess's sister?"

As the carriage rolled towards home, Lydia's mind was already racing ahead, planning how she would win over her new husband, his household, and eventually, all of society. It would be a challenge, certainly, but then again, Lydia Brandon had never been one to shy away from a challenge.

She was to be the Duchess of Fyre, and she would be perfect. After all, she had made a vow, and Lydia Brandon always kept her promises.

The carriage had scarcely come to a stop before the front door of Drownshire House flew open, revealing a frantic-looking Viscountess Prudence.

"Girls! Thank heavens you're back. Quickly, Lydia, come inside. There's been a letter from the Duke."

Lydia's heart leapt into her throat as she hurried after her mother, her sisters close behind. In the drawing room, she found her father pacing before the fireplace, a creased piece of parchment in his hand.

"What is it, Papa?" Lydia asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. "Has something happened?"

Viscount Silas turned to face her, his expression grave. "The Duke has... requested some changes to the wedding arrangements. He wishes for a smaller ceremony, with only immediate family present. And he wants it moved up. To next week."

Lydia felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath her feet. "Next week?" she echoed faintly. "But that's... that's so soon. How can we possibly be ready?"

"We'll manage," Viscountess Prudence said firmly. "We must. This is too important an opportunity to risk losing because of mere logistical difficulties."

Lydia nodded numbly, her mind whirling. A week. She had only a week to prepare for her new life, to say goodbye to everything she'd ever known. The enormity of it all suddenly crashed over her, and she felt her knees go weak.

"Lydia?" Marian's concerned voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. "Are you alright? You've gone quite pale."

"I... I think I need some air," Lydia managed, stumbling towards the French doors that led to the garden. Once outside, she gulped in great breaths of the cool evening air, trying to calm her racing heart.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Jane and Diana, their faces etched with worry.

"Lydia," Diana began hesitantly, "if you don't want to go through with this, you don't have to. We'll support you, no matter what."

For a moment, Lydia was tempted. Oh, how easy it would be to give in to her fears, to retreat to the safety and comfort of her familiar life. But then she thought of the Duke's son, of the lonely child who needed a mother. She thought of her family, of the opportunities this marriage would bring them all.

"No," she said, straightening her shoulders. "No, I made a commitment, and I intend to see it through. This is just... unexpected, that's all. I'll be fine."

Jane studied her face for a long moment. "Are you quite certain? Because if that beast does something to harm you…"

"He will not," Lydia interrupted firmly. "The Duke is not a beast, Jane. He's a man, with his own reasons for wanting to hasten the wedding. I'm sure he has his reasons."

As she spoke the words, Lydia lifted her chin bravely, despite the wicked racing of her heart. The Duke of Fyre was a mystery, one she was now more determined than ever to solve.

"Well," Jane said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "if you're determined to go through with this, we'd better make the most of your last week as a free woman, hadn't we?"

And so began a whirlwind of activity. The next few days passed in a blur of fittings and preparations, interspersed with moments of quiet panic that Lydia did her best to suppress. Her sisters were a constant presence, offering support and distraction in equal measure.

A few nights before her wedding, as Lydia lay awake in her childhood bed for the last time, she found herself reflecting on the journey that had brought her to this point.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself in the darkness. "I can be the duchess he needs, the mother that poor boy deserves. I can make this work."