Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

T he heavy oak door of Elias Blacknight's bedchamber groaned as he pushed it open, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. After a day of grueling business negotiations, all he craved was solitude and a glass of brandy. Instead, he found the Marquess of Stone, Nicholas Grant, pacing before the fireplace like a caged lion.

"Nicholas?" Elias said, surprise momentarily overtaking his fatigue. "What in Heaven's name are you doing here?"

Nicholas whirled to face him, his usually jovial face set in lines of fury. "What am I doing here? What are you doing getting married without so much as a word to your oldest friend?"

Elias sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should have known word would reach Nicholas eventually, but he'd hoped for a few more days of peace before this particular inquisition.

"I see news travels fast," he said dryly, moving to pour himself that much-needed brandy. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Don't try to distract me with alcohol, Elias," Nicholas snapped, though he held out his hand for a glass nonetheless. "When exactly were you planning to tell me about this... this... sudden union ?"

Elias took a long sip of his brandy, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. "I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest. It's merely a necessary transaction, nothing more."

Nicholas's eyes widened in disbelief. "A necessary transaction? Elias, you're getting married! To a woman you've barely met, if the rumors are to be believed. How can you be so cavalier about this?"

"Because it's not a matter of great importance," Elias replied, his tone maddeningly calm in the face of Nicholas's agitation. "It's an hour in a church, some paperwork to sign, and then life goes on as usual. I fail to see why you're making such a fuss."

Nicholas threw up his hands in exasperation. "An hour in a church? Elias, you obtuse fool, you're taking a wife! A living, breathing woman who will share your home, your name, your life. How can you not see the significance of that?"

Elias's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I see the significance perfectly well, Nicholas. I'm gaining a mother for my son and a mistress for my household. That is the extent of it."

"The extent of it?" Nicholas repeated, incredulity coloring his voice. "Goodness, man, do you hear yourself? This isn't like hiring a new housekeeper. You're bringing a young woman into your home, into your life. She'll be the Duchess of Fyre, for heaven's sake!"

Elias set down his glass with more force than necessary, a hint of irritation finally breaking through his calm facade. "I'm well aware of what I'm doing, Nicholas. I don't need you to explain the basics of marriage to me. It will not be my first."

Nicholas took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, tinged with concern rather than anger. "Elias, my friend, I'm worried about you. This isn't like you, making such a momentous decision so... hastily. What's really going on?"

For a long moment, Elias was silent, staring into the depths of his brandy glass as if it held the answers to all life's mysteries. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost vulnerable.

"It's Peter," he said softly. "He's been... struggling lately. More withdrawn, less interested in his studies. I've heard him crying at night when he thinks no one can hear."

Nicholas's expression softened. "The boy longs for his mother."

Elias nodded, a shadow passing over his face. "He needs a mother's love, Nicholas. Something I... something I can't provide."

"And you think marrying a stranger will solve that?" Nicholas asked gently.

Elias shrugged, a gesture so unlike his usual confident demeanor that Nicholas felt a pang of worry for his friend. "What else can I do? I've tried everything else. Tutors, governesses, even that blasted dog he begged for last Christmas. Nothing helps. He needs a mother, and I... I need a wife to run the household. It's a sensible solution."

Nicholas sighed, moving to place a hand on Elias's shoulder. "Oh, my friend. I understand your intentions are good, but have you considered what this might mean for the young lady in question? To be thrust into a ready-made family, expected to mother a child she's never met?"

Elias's jaw tightened. "Lady Lydia understood the terms when she agreed to the marriage. She knows what will be expected of her."

"Lady Lydia," Nicholas mused. "So that's her name. Tell me about her, Elias. What's she like?"

For a moment, Elias seemed at a loss. "She's... young. Well-bred. Comes from a good family. I'm told she's accomplished in all the ways a lady should be."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "And? What else?"

Elias frowned. "What else is there to know? She'll be a suitable mother for Peter and a capable mistress of Fyre Manor. That's all that matters."

Nicholas shook his head, exasperatedly, a trace of pity in his eyes. "Oh, Elias. There's so much more to marriage than that. What of companionship? Shared interests? The possibility of love?"

At the word 'love,' Elias's expression hardened. "Love has no place in this arrangement, Nicholas. Love is weakness that I have not the time for."

Nicholas opened his mouth to argue, but something in Elias's eyes made him pause. He knew the pain his friend had endured, the betrayal that had left him so cold and guarded. Perhaps, he thought, this marriage could be a chance for healing, if only Elias would allow it.

"Very well," Nicholas said at last. "I can see your mind is made up. But promise me one thing, Elias."

"What's that?"

"Give her a chance," Nicholas said earnestly. "This Lady Lydia. Don't shut her out before you've even given her a chance to prove herself. Who knows? She might surprise you."

Elias's expression remained impassive, though he was quite certain Nicholas knew him well enough to not be fooled by it. "I'll... consider your words," Elias said finally.

Nicholas nodded, knowing it was the best he could hope for at the moment. "Good. Now, when exactly is this wedding taking place? And don't even think about not inviting me, or I shall create such a scandal the ton will be gossiping about it for years."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Elias's lips. "It's in three days' time. A small, private ceremony at the local church. You're welcome to attend, if you must."

"If I must?" Nicholas repeated, his usual good humor returning. "My dear Duke, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Someone needs to be there to make sure you don't scowl your way through the entire ceremony."

As Nicholas made to leave, the heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a small figure hesitating on the threshold. Peter Blacknight, all of ten years old, clutched a sheet of paper to his chest, his dark eyes wide as they darted between his father and the unexpected visitor.

"I... I'm sorry, Father," Peter stammered, shrinking back slightly. "I didn't know you had company."

Elias felt a familiar tightness in his chest at the sight of his son. The boy was the spitting image of his mother, with the same golden curls and delicate features. It was like looking at a ghost, a constant reminder of his failures.

"It's quite alright, Peter," Elias said, his voice stiffer than he intended. "What is it you need?"

Peter took a tentative step into the room, his gaze fixed on the carpet. "I... I wanted to show you something, Father. But it can wait if you're busy."

Nicholas, ever perceptive, stepped forward with a warm smile. "Nonsense, young man! I was just leaving. But I'd love to see what you've brought before I go."

Peter's eyes widened at this unexpected kindness from a stranger. He glanced at his father, seeking permission, and Elias gave a curt nod.

"Go on, then," Elias said, gesturing for Peter to approach.

With trembling hands, Peter unfolded the paper he'd been clutching. It was a drawing, painstakingly rendered in charcoal. Despite the childish execution, there was a clear talent evident in the bold lines and careful shading.

"It's... it's the view from my window," Peter explained softly. "Miss Nancy said I should practice drawing what I see."

Nicholas leaned in, examining the sketch with exaggerated interest. "Well, I must say, this is quite impressive! You have a real eye for detail, young man. Look here, Elias - see how he's captured the shadow of the old oak tree?"

Elias stepped closer, peering at the drawing over his son's shoulder. He was surprised to find that Nicholas was right. There was a certain... something in the sketch, a hint of real artistic promise.

"It's... very good, Peter," Elias said, the words feeling awkward and inadequate on his tongue. He wanted to say more, to express the pride that was welling up inside him, but the right words eluded him and he swallowed with difficulty. Not for the first time, Elias inwardly chastised himself for being so inept at connecting with his son.

Peter's face lit up at the praise, a tentative smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Really, Father? You like it?"

"Of course he does!" Nicholas interjected, ruffling Peter's hair affectionately. "Your father may not say much, but I can see it in his eyes. He's proud of you, lad."

Elias shot Nicholas a sharp look, but his friend merely grinned unrepentantly.

"Thank you, sir," Peter said shyly, ducking his head. "I... I'm glad you like it, Father."

There was a moment of awkward silence, heavy with unspoken words. Elias cleared his throat, searching for something to say. "You should... keep practicing," he managed finally. "Drawing is a valuable skill for a young gentleman."

Peter's smile faltered slightly, but he nodded dutifully. "Yes, Father. I will."

Nicholas, sensing the tension, clapped his hands together. "Well, I really must be going. It was a pleasure to meet you, Peter. Keep up the excellent work!"

As Nicholas made his way to the door, he paused beside Elias, speaking in a low voice meant only for his friend's ears. "Talk to him, Elias. He's reaching out to you. Don't push him away."

With a final nod to Peter, Nicholas swept from the room, leaving father and son alone in a silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.

Elias stood awkwardly, acutely aware of his son's presence but unsure how to bridge the chasm between them. He had never been good at this - the easy affection, the casual conversations that seemed to come so naturally to other fathers. Every interaction with Peter felt like navigating a slope littered with sharp, jagged gravel, fraught with the potential for missteps and hurt feelings.

Peter shuffled his feet, still clutching his drawing. "Should I... go now, Father?" he asked hesitantly.

Elias felt a pang of guilt at the uncertainty in his son's voice. This wasn't what he wanted - this distance, this formality between them. And yet, he couldn't seem to find a way past it.

"No, stay," Elias said, forcing himself to soften his tone. "Tell me... tell me more about your drawing. What made you choose that particular view?"

Peter's eyes widened in surprise at his father's unexpected interest. "Well," he began hesitantly, "I like watching the birds in the old oak tree. They're always so busy, flitting about and building nests. And the way the light changes throughout the day, casting different shadows... it's fascinating."

As Peter spoke, his initial nervousness faded, replaced by a quiet enthusiasm. Elias found himself drawn in, seeing the world through his son's eyes for perhaps the first time.

"You notice a great deal," Elias observed, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice. "That's... that's good. A keen eye is a valuable asset in many pursuits."

Peter beamed at the praise, straightening his shoulders. "Miss Nancy says I have a talent for observation. She thinks I might make a good naturalist someday."

Elias felt a flicker of surprise. He hadn't realized Peter had such specific interests. When was the last time he'd truly spoken with his son about anything beyond his studies?

"A naturalist?" Elias repeated, trying to keep the skepticism from his voice. "That's... an interesting ambition."

Peter's face fell slightly at his father's tepid response. "You don't approve," he said softly, more a statement than a question.

Elias sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not that, Peter. I just... there are certain expectations for a young man of your station. The sciences are all well and good as a hobby, but your future lies in managing the estate, in politics, in…"

"In being just like you," Peter finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken hurt and disappointment. Elias felt as though he'd been struck. Is that truly how Peter saw him? As some looming, inescapable fate?

"Peter, I…" Elias began, but his son was already backing towards the door, his earlier enthusiasm completely extinguished.

"I should go, Father," Peter said, his voice carefully controlled. "I have lessons to attend to."

Before Elias could formulate a response, Peter was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.

Elias slumped into his chair, burying his face in his hands. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? He'd tried to connect with his son, to show an interest in his pursuits, and somehow he'd only managed to push the boy further away.

Nicholas's words echoed in his mind: "Talk to him, Elias. He's reaching out to you. Don't push him away."

But how could he bridge this gap when every attempt seemed to end in failure? How could he be the father Peter needed when he could barely manage to be present in his son's life at all?

Determined not to let the moment slip away entirely, Elias rose from his chair and strode purposefully towards Peter's room. He paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to steel himself before knocking softly.

"Peter? May I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, then a quiet, "Yes, Father."

Elias entered to find Peter sitting at his desk, bent over a book. The drawing lay discarded on the bed, a silent reminder of their earlier conversation.

"Peter," Elias began, his voice gentler than usual, "I... You must understand my position. I am merely … looking out for the estate, for our name. I didn't mean to dismiss your interests. It's just... being Duke of Fyre comes with certain responsibilities, and I worry about your future."

Peter looked up, surprise evident in his eyes. "You do?"

Elias nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Of course I do. You're my son, Peter. Everything I do, every decision I make, is with your well-being in mind. I know things are not always easy, but… from the day after tomorrow, there will be a mother in this house and I do hope that we will… benefit from it."

Peter was silent for a long moment, processing this information. Then, in a small voice, he asked, "Do you think she'll like me?"

The vulnerability in that simple question nearly broke Elias's heart. He moved without thinking, crossing the room to kneel before his son's chair. "I believe she will. She… I do not know her that well, but she does seem quite intelligent and insightful."

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes, and before Elias knew what was happening, the boy had launched himself into his arms. Elias stiffened for a moment, unused to such displays of affection, but then he slowly, carefully, wrapped his arms around his son in a clumsy embrace.

"I love you, Father," Peter mumbled into his shoulder.

Elias felt a lump form in his throat. "Yes, yes very well, Peter," he whispered, the words rising up to his throat but stubbornly refusing to leave his lips.

After a long moment, Elias gently pulled back, his hands resting on Peter's shoulders. "Now, about this drawing of yours," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "I think we should have it framed. It deserves to be displayed properly, don't you think?"

Peter's eyes widened with delight. "Really? You mean it?"

Elias nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed. In fact, why don't we go into town tomorrow and choose a frame together? We can make an afternoon of it."

"Just... just the two of us?" Peter asked, hope evident in his voice.

"Just the two of us," Elias confirmed. "And perhaps... perhaps you can show me some of the birds you've been observing. I'd like to see them through your eyes."

The smile that lit up Peter's face was brighter than any Elias had seen in years. It stirred something in him, a long-dormant desire to be the father his son deserved.

As Elias bid Peter goodnight and returned to his own chambers, he found himself facing his reflection in the mirror above his dresser. The man who stared back at him was one he scarcely recognized - not the cold, distant Duke of Fyre, but a father who was trying, however imperfectly, to connect with his son.

He thought of Lady Lydia, the woman who would soon be joining their small, broken family. What would she make of them? Would she see past his gruff exterior, past the rumors and whispers that surrounded him? Could she be the missing piece that would help them become whole?

Elias shook his head, chiding himself for such fanciful thoughts. This was to be a marriage of convenience, nothing more. And yet... and yet he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this union might bring more than just stability to Fyre Manor. At least for Peter, he hoped, she could bring some warmth.

A dry smile appeared on his face as he thought of the dog she so seemed to adore. In the single note she had sent him since they had agreed to marry, she had only begged for the animal to join her here at the manor. Of course, his first instinct had been to refuse but now… Elias shrugged and sighed. Perhaps the animal too, for he was hardly able to honestly call it a dog, could bring something that his home quite lacked: laughter. A frown darkened his brow.

He could honestly not remember the last time there had been boundless laughter in this home. Of course, he had never been one to think lightly of life… but Peter was still a boy. He was certain that the animal would bring him joy, he decided now.

For the first time since agreeing to this marriage, Elias felt a spark of curiosity about his bride-to-be. Perhaps Nicholas was right. Perhaps he should give her a chance, allow her to surprise him.

With that thought in mind, Elias moved to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. It had been years since he'd written a personal letter, but he felt compelled to respond to Lady Lydia's earlier request with a warmer answer.

"Dear Lady Lydia," he began, his pen hovering uncertainly over the paper. "I do hope you are quite well and that you are adequately prepared for our impending marriage. Peter and I…" He paused and frowned. It would be quite dishonest to claim that they were looking forward to receiving her here. Instead, he had to admit that he was rather apprehensive - though that was not something he would say.

"Peter and I are quite prepared to receive you here. I have considered once again your request with regard to bringing your pet along to the manor. After giving it much thought and taking into account what the desires of my son would be, I have decided to grant that permission after all. Mug, if I am not mistaken, is more than welcome at the manor."

Elias sighed and shook his head. He had no idea how to set the poor woman's mind completely at ease. "I hope that you will find joy," he continued "and fulfillment in your journey here at the manor."

As he signed the letter, Elias felt a weight lift from his shoulders. It wasn't much, perhaps, but it was a start. A first step towards the future that awaited them all.

Setting the letter aside to be sent in the morning, Elias finally retired to bed. As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were no longer haunted by ghosts of the past, but filled with tentative hopes for the future. A future that, for the first time in years, didn't seem quite so bleak and lonely.

Tomorrow would bring him one day closer to his wedding, one day closer to a new chapter in the story of the Duke of Fyre. And while challenges undoubtedly lay ahead, Elias found himself, against all odds, looking forward to turning the page.