Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

L ydia's fingers trembled slightly as she brushed them over the delicate pearl combs laid out on her dressing table. The cool, smooth surface of the pearls was in stark contrast to the heat in her cheeks. That Elias had noticed them—had specifically requested she wear them—was enough to make her pulse quicken, though she knew better than to allow herself to indulge in such thoughts. She caught sight of her flushed reflection in the mirror, the pinkness of her cheeks standing out like a confession, and shook her head at her own foolishness.

"You're being ridiculous," she muttered firmly to her reflection, as if it could offer some wisdom. "He's simply concerned with proper appearances. Nothing more."

Still, her mind replayed the memory of his rough voice when he'd mentioned the combs earlier, the way his gaze had lingered on her, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake, before he'd turned and strode away with that characteristic, impassive confidence. She couldn't shake the memory of the heated almost-kiss in the carriage, the way her pulse had stuttered at the closeness of him, at the tension between them that had been almost too much to bear.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Your Grace?" came Sarah's voice, muffled through the thick wood. "Some additional items have arrived from Madame Delacour for this evening."

"More?" Lydia's voice held a note of surprise. Surely the midnight silk gown was enough. What else could possibly be necessary? But when Sarah laid out the contents with a flourish, Lydia caught her breath. The stockings were crafted from the finest silk, translucent and soft to the touch, the evening gloves a perfect match for the gown, and the fan—a masterpiece, adorned with tiny crystal beads that would surely catch the light just so—left Lydia speechless.

"His Grace was most specific about the accessories, ma'am," Sarah said with a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "He sent a messenger to Madame Delacour with quite detailed instructions."

Lydia felt a blush creep into her cheeks once more, but before she could respond, there came another knock. A footman entered, bearing a message from Elias. His formal handwriting seemed to mock the unspoken tension between them.

"His Grace suggests a brief turn in the park before we return to prepare for the ball. The park is particularly pleasant at this time of day, should you wish to take some air before the evening's festivities."

Lydia bit back a smile at the carefully phrased words, so calculated in their formality. This was the same man who, mere hours ago, had nearly kissed her in a moving carriage, and who had apparently spent the interim sending messengers all over London with instructions about pearl combs and crystal-beaded fans.

"Sarah," she said with an attempt at nonchalance, though her voice wavered slightly, "perhaps the blue walking dress?"

It took only an hour before Lydia found herself descending the grand staircase of the townhouse. Elias was waiting at the entrance, a quiet figure in the shadowed hall. When he turned to face her, his eyes darkened, lingering on the soft blue silk of her gown and the way she had arranged her hair, with an effort to appear casually elegant.

"Shall we?" she asked, her voice soft, when he failed to speak immediately.

The streets of London were bustling as they emerged from the townhouse, the vibrant hum of the city alive around them. Carriages clattered past, their wheels striking the cobblestones in a rhythmic echo, while elegantly dressed ladies strolled along the sidewalk, their parasols twirling against the clear summer sky.

"The park is lovely at this time of day," Lydia said with casual lightness, though she kept a close watch on Elias from the corner of her eye. She noticed the way the sunlight caught the silver threading through his dark hair, the way his stern profile softened imperceptibly as his gaze flicked toward her.

"Which is why I suggested we might make a brief turn," he said, though she caught the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, as if he was amused by her attempt at keeping things light. "Though I warn you, if we encounter any pirates or dragons..."

"On your honor as a duke, I promise only proper, dignified entertainment," Lydia teased, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. The warmth of his body through the fine fabric of his coat made her pulse quicken, and her fingers tightened slightly around his arm. "Though I did hear my sisters might be in town."

"Ah." Elias's expression darkened almost imperceptibly as they entered the park, the weight of his words hanging between them. "Your family."

As they strolled further into the park, several heads turned in their direction, whispers following in their wake. The Beast of Fyre rarely appeared in public, and never in something as frivolous as an afternoon stroll. Lydia could feel the tension beside her, the way Elias's muscles stiffened at the attention. He was a man used to remaining in the shadows, not under the public gaze.

"Relax," Lydia murmured, her voice soft but steady. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "No one expects you to actually enjoy yourself. Your reputation for proper dignity is quite safe."

The sound Elias made was half a laugh, quickly disguised as a cough. "You take far too much pleasure in tormenting me, madam."

"Only because you make it so entertaining, Your Grace."

Before Elias could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind them, one filled with surprised delight. "Lydia? Is it really you?"

Lydia turned and saw her sisters hurrying toward them, their dresses rustling with every step. Their parents followed at a slower, more dignified pace, their eyes wide with shock at the sight of Elias at Lydia's side.

"Jane! Marian! Diana!" Lydia started toward them, then caught herself, remembering her position. She glanced at Elias, who gave her a slight nod.

"Your Grace," her sisters curtsied in unison, their eyes darting between Lydia and Elias with barely concealed curiosity. Even Marian, usually the most composed, seemed unable to fully meet the Duke's gaze.

"My dear sisters," Lydia said warmly, maintaining proper dignity while her heart ached to embrace them. "May I present my husband, His Grace, the Duke of Fyre?" She turned to Elias. "Your Grace, these are my sisters - Lady Marian, Lady Jane, and Lady Diana."

"Your Grace," the girls murmured, dropping into deeper curtsies. Jane, ever the bold one, dared a quick glance up at him. "We're so pleased to finally meet you properly. Lydia's letters speak very highly of you."

"Do they indeed?" Elias's voice was cool, though Lydia caught the slight lift of his eyebrow.

"Oh yes!" Diana burst out, then immediately flushed at her own enthusiasm. "That is... we're so grateful for how kind you've been to our sister..."

"Diana. " Viscountess Prudence's sharp voice cut through the moment. "Remember yourself."

The girls withdrew slightly, though Jane managed to catch Lydia's hand and squeeze it quickly. "You look so well, sister. Marriage clearly agrees with you."

"Indeed," Marian added softly, her eyes warm with genuine affection. "Though we've missed you terribly. Haven't we, Mother?"

Viscountess Prudence forced a tight smile. "Of course, dear. Though naturally, we understand that Her Grace has... more important matters to attend to now."

Something in her tone made Lydia's spine stiffen, though she maintained her pleasant expression. "Actually, I was just thinking how lovely it would be to catch up properly. Won't you all join us for dinner tomorrow evening? We have so much to discuss."

Her parents exchanged panicked glances - clearly torn between their fear of the Duke and the social implications of refusing a duchess's invitation.

"Oh, please say yes!" Jane said eagerly, before her mother's sharp look silenced her.

"Of course, my dear," Viscountess Prudence finally managed, her voice slightly strained. "How... how kind of you to think of us."

"Wonderful," Lydia smiled, though she noticed how her family seemed to shrink away when Elias shifted his weight slightly. "Shall we say seven o'clock?"

"Perfect," her father said quickly, already beginning to guide his family away. "We... we look forward to it."

As they retreated, Lydia caught snippets of her sisters' whispered excitement - "Did you see how well she looks?" "But he's so tall!" "Do you think she's happy?" - before their mother shushed them firmly.

Lydia turned to Elias, her brow furrowed with exasperation and her lips pursed in a pout. "That wasn't necessary, you know. I'm quite used to their... reactions."

"Which is precisely the problem," Elias said, his voice low and hard. He stepped closer, turning toward her fully. "You are the Duchess of Fyre now, and it's time you started acting like it. Your own family treats you with barely concealed disdain, and you simply accept it."

"And you think I need to do that how, exactly?" she challenged, though her voice was soft.

"Stand up for yourself," Elias encouraged, but Lydia shook her head.

"And terrify my family like you seem to do to… well… some?"

"By demanding the respect you deserve." His blue eyes met hers, intense and unwavering. "If you won't put people in their place when they insult you, then I shall do it for you. I will not stand by and watch anyone treat my wife with disrespect—not even her own family."

Lydia felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks at his words. She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with the quiet force of his presence.

"You don't have to—" she began.

"Yes, I do." His voice was firm, resolute, and Lydia could see that nothing would make him back down. "You are my wife, the mistress of my home, the mother of my son. Anyone who forgets that will be swiftly reminded."

Her heart began to race. She told herself firmly that this was about his pride—his position as a duke—and nothing more. He couldn't bear the idea of his duchess being insulted because it reflected poorly on him. It was simply a matter of propriety.

"You're doing it again," Elias said, his voice soft but perceptive.

"What?"

"Thinking too much." His hand lifted, almost as if in hesitation, before brushing a stray curl from her cheek. The touch was so light, it might have been a mere whisper of contact, but Lydia felt it deep in her chest. "Stop trying to explain away everything I do or say. Sometimes, Lydia, things are exactly what they appear to be."

She stared up at him, caught in the depth of his gaze. "And what do they appear to be, Your Grace?"

For a long moment, she thought he might answer her, his gaze heavy, his body close. But then a group of laughing ladies rounded the corner, and Elias stepped back, his expression closing off again.

"We should return home," he said, his tone suddenly gruff, as if retreating into himself. "You'll need time to prepare for the ball."

Lydia nodded, her breath catching in her throat as they walked back to the waiting carriage. She was acutely aware of his presence beside her, the lingering warmth where his fingers had brushed her skin.

This is nothing, she told herself firmly. Just a duke protecting his interests. Just proper dignity, social position, and…

"Stop that," Elias said suddenly, his voice low and amused.

"Stop what?"

"Whatever argument you're having with yourself. I can practically hear you thinking."

"I was merely considering the proper behavior for a duchess," Lydia replied primly, though her cheeks flushed again at the thought.

"No, you were trying to convince yourself that you were not worthy of being a duchess."

Lydia nearly tripped over her own feet. "I... what?", and that was precisely what she’d tell him if she had to

"You're not as subtle as you think, my dear." His voice had that dangerous softness again. "Though I must say, for someone so clever, you can be remarkably blind sometimes."

Before she could respond, they reached the carriage. Elias handed her in with perfect courtesy, his touch entirely proper, but Lydia felt it burn through her gloves nonetheless. As the carriage door closed behind them, they settled into the plush cushions in charged silence.

Lydia found herself thinking back to the pearl combs waiting in her chambers and the ball that lay ahead. Whatever happened this evening, she had a feeling it would be anything but dignified.

And judging by the way Elias's eyes kept straying to her, she wasn't the only one looking forward to it.

It was with this same excitement that mere hours later, Lydia stood before the mirror in her chamber, her heart racing as she surveyed herself in the reflection. Her maid had already begun the delicate process of preparing her for the evening, but Lydia's mind was elsewhere, lost in the memories of the afternoon's unexpected moments with Elias. The subtle brush of his fingers against her cheek, the dark glint in his eyes as he had looked at her in the park—those images kept repeating in her mind, making her pulse quicken every time she tried to focus on something else.

Sarah was now fastening the delicate pearl combs into Lydia's hair, the cool weight of the pearls adding an unexpected elegance to her usual hairstyle. Lydia's hair had been arranged in soft waves, the color rich against the blue of her gown, and the combs—so simple, yet so intricate—brought an added shine to the entire ensemble. Her mind returned to the way Elias had instructed the modiste, the careful attention he had paid to every detail, and the knowing smile Sarah had worn when she'd revealed the accessories he had chosen.

"Your Grace, may I help you with your gloves?" Sarah's voice broke into her thoughts, and Lydia blinked, as if waking from a dream.

"Yes, please," she said, her voice slightly strained as Sarah slid the delicate silk gloves onto her arms. They were a perfect match for the gown, reaching just above her elbows, and the smooth texture was a constant reminder of the evening that awaited her.

When Sarah had finished with the gloves, she stepped back, admiring her work. "Your Grace, you are truly radiant. His Grace will be most pleased."

Lydia's stomach tightened at the mention of Elias. "I hope so," she murmured, her gaze slipping back to her reflection. It was difficult to deny how the gown transformed her, how it made her feel like someone else—someone who could walk confidently into a room and command attention. The woman she saw before her was polished, poised, the epitome of a duchess. But beneath the layers of silk and pearls, her thoughts were anything but steady.

"Your Grace, the carriage awaits," came the voice of a footman, his voice soft through the door.

Lydia nodded, forcing a calmness into her voice as she stood. She turned to Sarah with a fleeting smile. "Thank you. I'll be ready in a moment."

As the maid left the room, Lydia paused for one final look at herself in the mirror. The pearl combs glistened against her dark hair, the gown shimmered like a night sky filled with stars, and she felt as if the weight of the evening had already begun to settle on her shoulders.

She took a deep breath as she stepped into the hallway and found Elias waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a tailored black suit that only highlighted his striking features. His gaze lifted to meet hers, and for a moment, the world outside the townhouse seemed to fade away. The way his eyes swept over her was both intense and appraising, like he was taking in every detail of her, from the soft curves of her figure to the careful arrangement of her hair. It was the first time she saw something in his gaze that could almost be described as... tender.

"Shall we?" His voice was low, but there was a warmth in it that made her heart flutter unexpectedly.

Lydia nodded, but the words lodged in her throat, and they descended the staircase together in silence. The ball loomed ahead, but all Lydia could think of was how Elias had looked at her—how his attention seemed to be both a privilege and a burden all at once.

As they reached the door, Elias extended his arm with the same perfect courtesy as always, but Lydia could not ignore the sudden tightness in her chest. She had no idea what to expect from him tonight, no idea how the evening would unfold. But one thing was certain: her life had already shifted, and she wasn't sure whether she was ready for what came next.

But the carriage door was already open, and with one final glance at Elias, Lydia stepped inside. The night awaited. And with it, the promise of something far more than she had anticipated.