Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

T he carriage jolted slightly as it rolled over the cobblestone streets, but inside, Lydia felt nothing but a strange stillness. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap, her fingers occasionally brushing the smooth silk of her gown. The midnight fabric felt cool to the touch, its intricate design catching the candlelight with each subtle shift of her hands.

Beside her, Elias sat with the same stiff formality he always maintained. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes, though seemingly directed out the window, appeared distant, preoccupied with thoughts she couldn't reach. Lydia studied him, noting the tension in his posture, the slight furrow between his brows. The Duke of Fyre, always composed, always powerful, seemed… unsettled tonight.

Lydia bit her lip. She had been quiet on the ride over, lost in her own thoughts, but now the silence between them was stretching too long. It felt heavy. As though they were both on the precipice of something neither could quite name.

"Are you nervous?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Elias blinked and turned toward her, his lips pressing together in an unreadable line. "Nervous?" He met her gaze with a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hardly."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him more closely. "I've never seen you quite like this," she murmured. "I thought I was the one who would be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," he repeated, his tone more firm this time, but there was an undercurrent to his words that Lydia couldn't place. He didn't look at her directly, his gaze still focused on the passing scenery outside.

Lydia sighed, feeling a twinge of concern. There was something about the way he held himself tonight—a vulnerability masked by that immovable, dignified facade. She had grown accustomed to the Duke's reticence, but there were moments when she wanted to reach beneath that armor, to understand what lurked behind his stoic expression. But tonight, perhaps more than ever before, Elias seemed untouchable.

"I suppose we should enjoy it," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "After all, it's not every day a duchess makes her first appearance at a ball."

Elias finally turned toward her, his eyes softening just slightly. He didn't respond immediately, as if searching for the right words, or perhaps any words at all. "Just don't let them think you're like them," he said at last, his voice rough with something Lydia couldn't quite place. "The world of balls and gowns isn't worth your time. You've already proven your worth to me."

Lydia's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his words. She didn't know how to respond, so instead, she settled for a simple, "Thank you," the words laden with more meaning than she could put into them.

The carriage slowed as they approached the grand Hartley estate, the towering columns of the ballroom visible in the distance. Lydia could feel her pulse quicken, the moment of truth approaching. She was about to step into that glittering world as the Duchess of Fyre, her every move watched and scrutinized by hundreds of strangers.

"Ready?" Elias asked, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He extended his arm, his usual composed expression back in place, though his eyes held a spark of something unreadable.

Lydia took his arm, feeling the warmth of his touch through the fine fabric of her gown. "As ready as I'll ever be," she said, though there was an unspoken weight to her words.

The carriage came to a complete stop, and before Lydia could say another word, the door swung open. She stepped out first, her gown swishing around her legs like a pool of midnight silk. The sound of the crowd inside the ballroom drifted to her ears—laughter, soft music, the clinking of crystal glasses.

For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of nervousness. But then Elias was at her side, his presence grounding her. He was as imposing and regal as ever, his dark blue eyes scanning the crowd with the air of a man who was completely at home in such an environment.

Lydia's heart skipped as she noticed the sudden hush that fell over the guests. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, all eyes turning toward her. She felt the weight of their gaze like a physical thing, but it was Elias's gaze that truly caught her—his eyes locked on hers with such intensity that it nearly stole her breath.

For a moment, it was as if the entire world stopped. Nothing existed but the two of them, standing at the top of the grand staircase in the glow of hundreds of flickering candles. Lydia's breath caught in her throat. How could she possibly be dignified in such a moment?

"You look…" Elias's voice was low, thick with something she couldn't name. He paused as if lost for words, his gaze raking over her with a possessiveness that was both electrifying and overwhelming.

Lydia smiled softly, unable to resist teasing him. "Yes, Your Grace? Do I look suitably dignified?"

Elias's expression softened, a fleeting smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You know perfectly well how you look," he muttered under his breath, though there was no hiding the admiration in his eyes.

The whispers from the crowd began, but they weren't the usual fearful murmurs about the Beast of Fyre. This time, Lydia heard words like beautiful, extraordinary, and gracious . She felt a flush creep up her neck at the praise. It was not how she had ever been seen - it was not even how she had ever imagined herself.

With an elegant bow, Elias offered her his arm. "Shall we?" he asked, his tone carrying a faint note of amusement.

Lydia placed her hand on his arm, and together they descended the staircase. Every step she took felt like an eternity, the silence growing heavier as they made their way into the ballroom. She could feel the eyes of the room on them, but Elias's presence beside her was like an anchor.

At the foot of the stairs, Elias turned to face her. "You are truly one of a kind," he said quietly, a strange smile playing around his lips.

Before she could reply, before she could begin to ask him if it were a good thing or not ,the murmurs around them began to shift, and Elias's attention turned to a group of men clustered near the far side of the room. "Lord Pembroke wishes to discuss a business venture," he said, his voice low. "I should speak with him."

Lydia nodded, her eyes scanning the crowd. "Then let us go," she said firmly, already steering him toward the elderly lord.

"Your Graces," Lord Pembroke greeted them with an affable smile. "How lovely to see you both this evening."

"The pleasure is ours," Lydia replied warmly, noting how several of the men shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to interact with the Beast of Fyre's new duchess. "I understand you've been discussing the new railway line through Yorkshire?"

Lord Pembroke's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. "Indeed, Your Grace. Though I wouldn't have expected..." He caught himself. "That is, it's rather a complex matter."

"Oh, but fascinating, don't you think?" Lydia continued smoothly. "The potential impact on local commerce alone is worth considering. I was reading just yesterday about similar developments in Lancashire."

Elias's hand tightened slightly on her arm, and she caught the flash of approval in his eyes.

"You're familiar with the Lancashire project?" another gentleman – Sir James Whitmore – asked, clearly intrigued.

"The quarterly reports make for interesting reading," Lydia smiled. "Though I must say, their proposed route seems rather inefficient compared to what Lord Pembroke is suggesting for Yorkshire."

"You've read the quarterly reports?" Sir James couldn't quite hide his amazement.

"My wife," Elias said quietly, his deep voice carrying a note of pride that made Lydia's heart skip, "has quite a head for business."

"Indeed," Lord Pembroke nodded, his initial surprise giving way to genuine respect. "Perhaps, Your Grace, you'd care to share your thoughts on the matter of the western route? We've been debating the merits of following the river versus cutting through the hills."

"The river route would be costlier initially," Lydia observed, "but considering the potential for future expansion and the existing trade routes..." She glanced at Elias. "Though Your Grace has far more experience with such matters."

"Please," Elias's lips curved slightly, "continue. Your analysis matches my own thoughts exactly."

The men gathered closer as Lydia elaborated, their earlier stiffness forgotten in the excitement of discussing business. She watched with quiet pleasure as Elias joined in, his brilliant mind cutting through complex problems with ease. The way he commanded attention without ever raising his voice, the depth of his knowledge, the subtle power he wielded – it was captivating.

"Remarkable insight," Lord Pembroke murmured as Elias explained a particularly clever solution to their funding concerns. "Though I suspect your duchess's suggestion about involving the local merchants' guild would smooth the way considerably."

"Lydia has a gift for seeing connections others miss," Elias agreed, his eyes meeting hers with unmistakable warmth. "It's one of her many... unexpected qualities."

The genuine admiration in his voice made Lydia flush with pleasure. They worked well together, she realized – her diplomatic skills complementing his strategic mind, her warmth softening his intimidating presence.

"I must say," Sir James commented, looking between them, "you make quite the formidable pair. The ton won't know what hit them."

"Let's hope not," Elias murmured, and Lydia caught the ghost of a smile playing around his lips. "Though I suspect they're about to find out."

"She is quite a woman, your duchess," Lord Pembroke murmured to Elias as the conversation began to wrap up. "You're a fortunate man."

Elias's hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her arm. "Indeed, I am."

Before Lydia could respond, the opening strains of a waltz filled the air, and Elias's hand was suddenly at the small of her back, guiding her toward the dance floor.

"You don't dance," she said softly, half in disbelief.

"I will tonight," he replied, his voice rough. "Besides, you have asked me so many times that I had no choice but to give in. Do not make me beg. Dance with me, Lydia."

Her heart fluttered at the intensity in his words, and with a smile that barely touched her lips, she nodded. "If you insist."

As they glided across the floor, Lydia was acutely aware of the warmth of his hand at her waist, the closeness of their bodies, the feel of his strong fingers encircling hers. She hadn't expected this—hadn't expected him to let down his walls so easily. He was dancing with her, but more than that, it felt as if they were opening a door to something neither of them had fully explored yet.

"You're shaking," Elias observed quietly as they moved in perfect synchrony.

"I'm perfectly composed," Lydia said, her voice a little breathless. "As a duchess should be."

His lips twitched in amusement. "Ah, yes, your famous composure. Like when you told Lady Pembroke her hat looked like something a dog might have dug up from the garden?"

Lydia couldn't suppress a laugh. "I merely pointed out the fact that it did resemble something excavated. Diplomatic honesty."

Elias chuckled softly, his hand at her waist tightening as they continued to dance. For a moment, it was just the two of them —no titles, no expectations—just the intimacy of shared laughter and an easy connection that felt entirely new.

"Tell me," he said softly, his voice dropping, "why does it matter so much to you? Being the perfect duchess?"

Lydia's heart gave a small lurch at his question. She tensed slightly. "I don't know what you mean."

He didn't respond immediately, as if waiting for her to realize it herself. The dance continued, the music swelling around them, but in that moment, all she could hear was his voice, asking a question she didn't have an answer to yet.

"Shall we take a walk outside?" she suggested impulsively, the cloying heat of the ballroom along with Elias's presence so close to her becoming a bit much.

A bit of a smile played around her husband's lips and he nodded as he led her outside wordlessly. The second they stepped out of the doors, into the coolness of the night air, Lydia drew in a deep breath, relishing the momentary peace.

"Too warm inside?" Elias asked softly, his hand still at her waist as he guided her down a secluded path.

"A little," she admitted, though warmth wasn't entirely to blame for her flushed cheeks. The memory of their dance lingered, the way he'd held her so close, how perfectly they'd moved together.

They walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the ball fading behind them. Lydia was acutely aware of his presence beside her, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his thumb absently traced circles on her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm.

"You surprised them tonight," he said finally, his voice low and intimate in the darkness.

"Did I surprise you as well?" She dared to look up at him, finding his eyes already on her face.

"You always surprise me, Lydia." The way he said her name made her shiver. "From the very first day, when you dared to stand up to the Beast of Fyre..."

"You're not a beast," she whispered, turning to face him. "You never were."

Elias's hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch feather-light. "Perhaps not," he murmured. "Or perhaps you've simply tamed me without my noticing."

Before she could respond, he bent his head and captured her lips with his. The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, but then Lydia sighed against his mouth and something in Elias broke. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Lydia's hands found their way into his hair, something she'd dreamed of doing for so long...

The sound of approaching voices shattered the moment. They sprang apart, both breathing heavily. Lydia hurriedly smoothed her skirts while Elias ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I... that is..." For once, the mighty Duke of Fyre seemed at a loss for words.

"We should return inside," Lydia said quickly, her voice unsteady. "People will wonder..."

"Yes. Of course." Elias's face was already closing off, his duke's mask sliding back into place. "The carriage should be ready."

The ride home was excruciating in its silence, both of them carefully looking anywhere but at each other. Lydia's lips still tingled from his kiss, and her mind raced with questions she didn't dare voice. What had the kiss meant? Would he pretend it never happened? Would they ever talk about the growing connection between them?

But as they reached Fyre Manor, Elias merely helped her down from the carriage with perfect courtesy, bid her a stiff good night, and disappeared into his study.

Lydia stood in the entrance hall for a long moment, her fingers touching her lips where his kiss still burned. "Oh, you impossible man," she whispered to the empty hall. "What am I going to do with you?"

Only silence answered, broken by the distant sound of Elias's study door closing with firm finality.