Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

T he morning light streamed through the newly lightened breakfast room curtains, casting a warm glow over the carefully set table. Lydia smoothed her skirts for the third time, acutely aware of the empty chairs that would soon be filled. Her hand trembled slightly as she adjusted a fork that was already perfectly aligned.

"Your Grace?" Mrs. Winters appeared in the doorway. "Master Peter is asking if he might come down now, though it's a quarter hour early..."

Lydia smiled, remembering the boy's excitement the night before. "Of course he may. Heaven knows we wouldn't want him wearing a hole in his carpet with all his pacing."

Moments later, Peter appeared, dressed with particular care in his best morning coat. His golden curls had been ruthlessly tamed, and Lydia noticed he was wearing the cravat she'd helped him practice tying last week.

"Good morning, darling," she said warmly. "You look very handsome."

Peter beamed, then quickly tried to school his features into something more dignified. "Good morning, Lydia. I trust you slept well?"

The formal words in his child's voice made her heart squeeze. "Quite well, thank you. Though I suspect not as well as Mug – I found him sprawled across half my bed this morning, if you can believe it."

Peter giggled, then glanced anxiously at the door. "Do you think Father will really come? He's usually already in his study by now..."

"He gave his word, didn't he?" Lydia kept her voice light, though she shared some of Peter's uncertainty. "And a duke's word is his bond, or so I'm told."

As if summoned by their discussion, Elias appeared in the doorway. He too was dressed with particular care, his dark coat emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. Lydia found herself remembering how those shoulders had looked the day before, when he'd loomed over her during their argument, and felt heat rise to her cheeks.

"Good morning, Father!" Peter's voice was pitched slightly higher than usual with barely contained excitement.

"Good morning, Peter." Elias's voice was grave, but Lydia detected a softness in his eyes as he regarded his son. "You're up early."

"Yes, sir. I... I wanted to be sure I wasn't late."

Something flickered across Elias's face – regret, perhaps? – before he turned to Lydia. "Good morning, my lady."

"Your Grace." Lydia dipped into a small curtsy, focused on his presence as he moved to his seat at the head of the table. The room suddenly felt much smaller.

An awkward silence fell as they began their meal. Peter kept darting hopeful glances between his parents, clearly wanting to speak but unsure if he should. Lydia's throat felt tight every time she looked at Elias, remembering the warmth of his hands on hers, that softly spoken "please" that had undone her so completely.

"Peter," she said finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, "why don't you tell your father about your plans for the herb garden? I'm sure he'd be interested in your ideas for improving the estate."

Peter brightened immediately. "Oh! Yes, well, Thomas – that's the gardener's son, Father – he's been teaching me about different medicinal herbs. Did you know that lavender can help you sleep? And peppermint is good for digestion?"

"Is that so?" Elias's voice was neutral, but Lydia saw how intently he watched his son's animated face.

"Yes! And I thought, well..." Peter faltered slightly, then gathered his courage. "I thought perhaps we might set aside a small plot? Near the kitchen garden? Thomas says the soil there is perfect for herbs, and it would be practical, wouldn't it? Having our own supply?"

Lydia held her breath, watching Elias carefully. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded. "A sound proposal. Well-reasoned and practical, as you say. Perhaps you might draw up a plan? Something we could review together?"

The joy that blazed across Peter's face was like sunrise breaking through clouds. "Really? You mean it? I'll start right after breakfast! I already have some ideas sketched out, and Thomas said?—"

A knock at the door interrupted Peter's excited chatter. Seconds later, Nicholas Grant swept into the room, his usual good humor lighting his handsome features.

"Good morning, all! I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important?"

"Uncle Nicholas!" Peter jumped up to greet his father's friend, then quickly remembered his manners and attempted to bow instead.

Nicholas laughed, ruffling the boy's carefully arranged curls. "None of that now, young man. I've known you since you were in leading strings." His eyes fell on Lydia, and he executed an elegant bow. "And this must be the new Duchess of Fyre! My dear lady, I've been dying to meet you properly."

"Lord Stone," Lydia rose to curtsy, charmed despite herself by his easy manner. "We're honored by your visit."

"Nicholas, please," he insisted, taking the seat Mrs. Winters hastily arranged for him. "I've heard so much about you from our mutual friends in town. They say you're working miracles here at Fyre Manor."

"Hardly miracles," Lydia demurred, though she couldn't help smiling at his infectious warmth. "Just a few small changes."

"Small changes indeed," Nicholas's eyes twinkled as he glanced around the sun-filled room. "Why, I hardly recognized the place! It's as if someone finally remembered to let the light in."

Lydia laughed at his theatrical wink, then stopped abruptly as she felt the temperature in the room seem to drop several degrees. She glanced at Elias and found him glaring at his friend with surprising intensity.

If Nicholas noticed his friend's dark look, he gave no sign. "I must say, it's delightful to see the family gathered for breakfast. Usually, our dear Duke is buried in his study by now, scowling at his correspondence as if it had personally offended him."

"I do not scowl," Elias muttered, though his current expression rather belied that claim.

"Of course not, dear fellow. You merely look severely disapproving. Much more dignified." Nicholas turned back to Lydia with another charming smile. "I don't suppose you've managed to convince him about the Hartley s’ ball next week? The ton is positively dying to meet the woman who finally captured the Beast of Fyre."

"The Hartleys are having a ball?" Lydia's interest was immediately piqued. She hadn't attended a proper ball since her marriage, and the thought of music and dancing made her heart lift.

"We will not be attending," Elias said firmly.

"Oh, but surely—" Lydia began, then caught herself. "That is... it might be nice to meet some of our neighbors?"

"The finest families in the county will be there," Nicholas added helpfully. "And Lady Hartley throws the most magnificent balls. The music is always excellent."

"Do you dance, Lydia?" Peter asked eagerly. "Father never dances, but I've been learning from Miss Nancy. She says every gentleman should know how."

"I love to dance," Lydia admitted, then quickly added, "Though of course, I understand if His Grace has other commitments..."

"None that can't be rearranged," Nicholas interjected before Elias could respond. "After all, what's the point of having a lovely young duchess if you're going to keep her hidden away? People will talk, you know."

Elias's scowl deepened. "Let them talk."

Nicholas merely looked at Elias, who sighed at last.

"Very well," he said finally, though he still looked less than pleased. "We will attend. Briefly."

"Excellent!" Nicholas beamed. "Lady Hartley will be delighted. And speaking of dancing..." He turned to Lydia with another winning smile. "Perhaps you might save a set for me? I promise to be a more enthusiastic partner than our dear Duke."

"That would be lovely," Lydia agreed, then immediately wished she hadn't as she felt Elias's gaze burning into her.

"If you're quite finished arranging my wife's dance card," Elias bit out, "perhaps we might discuss the actual purpose of your visit?"

"Ah yes, business." Nicholas sighed dramatically. "How dreary. Though I must say, breakfast is far more entertaining than usual. I don't suppose I might impose upon your hospitality more often?"

The look Elias gave him could have frozen flame.

As the men withdrew to Elias's study, Lydia caught Nicholas winking at her. "Until next week, my lady. I look forward to our dance."

"As do I," she replied, pretending not to notice the way Elias's shoulders stiffened at her words.

Once they were gone, Peter turned to her with shining eyes. "Did you see, Lydia? Father said yes! We're really going to a ball!"

"So we are, darling." Lydia smiled, though her mind was already racing with preparations. "So we are."

As she helped Peter gather his garden plans before sending him off to his lessons, Lydia found herself humming a waltz under her breath. A ball! With music and dancing and perhaps... She remembered the intense way Elias had looked at her when she'd agreed to dance with Nicholas, and felt a curious flutter in her stomach.

Not that his obvious displeasure meant anything, of course. He was probably just concerned about maintaining proper dignity, as always. It certainly had nothing to do with jealousy.

But as she went about her morning tasks, Lydia couldn't quite suppress a small smile. The Beast of Fyre might not dance, but he certainly seemed to have strong opinions about who his wife danced with.

Not that she was planning to use that information, of course. That would be terribly undignified.

Though perhaps she might ask Nicholas for two dances, just to see what would happen...

Humming another waltz, Lydia headed upstairs to begin planning her ball gown. After all, if she was going to scandalize the ton by making the Duke of Fyre jealous, she ought to look her best while doing it.

Not that she was planning any such thing, of course.

But it was nice to have options.

A crash from the hallway interrupted Lydia's musings, followed by excited barking and the unmistakable sound of something expensive shattering.

"Mug!" she called, hurrying toward the commotion. "What have you done now?"

She rounded the corner to find a scene of magnificent chaos. Mug had apparently discovered one of Mrs. Winters's prized Chinese vases – or what remained of it. The little dog stood proudly in the midst of the destruction, tail wagging, with what appeared to be Nicholas's dropped glove in his mouth.

"Oh, you impossible creature," Lydia sighed, just as Elias and Nicholas emerged from the study to investigate the noise.

"I say," Nicholas chuckled, "that's a rather fetching shade of blue on my glove. Though I don't recall it being quite so... damp before."

Elias opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver a thunderous reprimand, but before he could speak, Peter came racing down the hall.

"Mug! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for– oh." He skidded to a halt, taking in the scene. "Oh dear."

"Indeed," Elias said darkly.

But instead of cowering, Peter straightened his shoulders and stepped forward. "It's my fault, Father. I was supposed to be watching him while Lydia attended to her correspondence. I'll help clean it up."

Lydia held her breath, watching Elias's face. To her amazement, the stern lines around his mouth softened slightly.

"Well," he said after a moment, "I never did care for that particular vase. Though perhaps in future, your... companion might be confined to less decorated areas of the house?"

"Yes, Father!" Peter beamed, then turned to Mug with his sternest expression. "Did you hear that? No more stealing gloves from Father's friends."

Mug, apparently sensing he was the topic of discussion, dropped the sodden glove at Nicholas's feet and sat, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

"Remarkable creature," Nicholas observed, retrieving his ruined glove with admirable good humor. "I don't suppose he takes commissions? I have several other gloves that could use... redesigning."

To everyone's shock, a sound that might almost have been a chuckle escaped Elias's lips. He caught himself quickly, but not before Lydia had memorized the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was amused.

"Come along, Peter," she said quickly, before the moment could shatter like the unfortunate vase. "Let's find Mrs. Winters and see about getting this cleaned up."

As they headed toward the servants' hall, Peter whispered, "Did you hear that, Lydia? Father almost laughed!"

"Indeed he did, darling. Though perhaps we shouldn't mention it – we wouldn't want to damage his fearsome reputation."

They spent the next hour helping the maids clean up the mess, with Mug "supervising" from a safe distance. Peter took his self-imposed punishment seriously, carefully wrapping each piece of broken porcelain and apologizing profusely to Mrs. Winters.

Later, as Lydia was returning to her chambers to finally begin planning her ball gown, she nearly collided with Elias in the corridor.

"Your Grace!" she gasped, steadying herself against the wall. "I beg your pardon, I wasn't watching where..."

"He's a good boy," Elias interrupted, his voice gruff. "Peter, I mean. Taking responsibility like that."

Lydia's heart did that peculiar flutter again. "Yes, he is. Rather like his father in that regard, I think."

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Lydia felt that now-familiar spark of awareness pass between them. Then Elias cleared his throat and stepped back.

"Yes, well. Carry on."

As she watched him stride away, Lydia smiled to herself. Perhaps there was hope for the Beast of Fyre after all. And if it took a few broken vases and stolen gloves to crack that stern facade, well...

She glanced at Mug, who was looking entirely too innocent for comfort. "No more Chinese porcelain," she told him firmly. "Though if you happen to find any more of Lord Stone's gloves lying about..."

Mug's tail wagged with what she could have sworn was understanding.

Yes, Lydia thought as she finally turned her attention to her wardrobe, the upcoming ball promised to be very interesting indeed.