Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

T he tap of heels on marble echoed through Fyre Manor's entrance hall as Lydia's sisters huddled together, their eyes wide as they took in the imposing surroundings. Jane clutched Marian's arm, nearly stumbling over an ancient rug as she craned her neck to examine a particularly stern-looking portrait.

"Do all the paintings... watch you like that?" she whispered, loud enough to make Diana jump.

"Jane!" Viscountess Prudence hissed. "Contain yourself!"

"But Mother, look at his eyes!" Jane protested. "They follow you everywhere! And his sword looks positively?—"

"I'm sure Her Grace has better things to do than listen to your observations about the family portraits," their father cut in smoothly, though his own gaze darted nervously to the painting in question.

Marian, ever practical, was studying the fresh flowers arranged throughout the hall. "The house seems... brighter than I expected. From the stories, I thought it would be all cobwebs and... well..."

"Ghosts?" Diana supplied helpfully, earning another sharp look from their mother.

"Really, girls! Such talk is hardly—" The Viscountess's reprimand was cut short by Lydia's appearance at the top of the stairs.

"Lydia!" All three sisters exclaimed at once, then immediately tried to school their features into something more dignified as Mrs. Winters appeared to announce them properly.

"The Viscount and Viscountess Drownshire," the housekeeper intoned. "Ladies Marian, Jane, and Diana."

"Welcome to Fyre Manor," Lydia smiled, descending to embrace her sisters while their mother looked on disapprovingly. "Though I see you've already met some of our more... intimidating ancestors."

"Is it true what they say about the east wing being haunted?" Jane whispered as she hugged her sister. "And does His Grace really—ow!" She broke off as Marian stepped deliberately on her foot.

"What my sister means to say," Marian interrupted smoothly, "is how lovely everything looks. You've done wonders with the place."

"Though perhaps we could tour the less... watching parts of the house?" Diana suggested, still eyeing the portrait nervously.

Lydia bit back a laugh, remembering her own first impressions of the manor. "Come along then. The drawing room has much friendlier artwork. Though I should warn you about the ghost in the?—"

"Lydia!" all three sisters squeaked in unison.

"—vase of roses. Honestly, what did you think I was going to say?" Lydia's eyes twinkled as she led her thoroughly unsettled sisters down the hall, their parents following at a more sedate pace while trying to maintain their dignity.

"You've gotten quite wicked since becoming a duchess," Jane observed admiringly, once their parents were out of earshot. "Does living with the Beast of Fyre do that to a person?"

"Jane!" Marian scolded, but her own curiosity was evident. "Though since you mentioned it..."

Lydia just smiled, ushering them into the drawing room. Living with the Beast indeed. If they only knew…

"Come," she invited gently. "Let us withdraw to the parlor and I shall have Mrs. Winters bring us tea."

With giggles, her sisters followed her to the parlor while her parents trailed behind rather dourly. Once seated and armed with their tea, Lydia leaned back ever so slightly and a smile played around her lips as she listened to the conversation around her.

"You should have seen him at Lady Morrison's tea," Jane was saying, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Poor Mr. Harrison nearly spilled his cup when Marian smiled at him!"

"I did no such thing," Marian protested, though her cheeks pinked prettily. "He was merely... startled by our new footman's sudden appearance."

"Oh yes, entirely startled by the dog," Jane winked at Lydia. "That's why he's called on us three times this week alone!"

Lydia smiled, warmed by her sister's obvious happiness. "And he's a respectable gentleman? With good prospects?"

"Very respectable," Marian assured her. "Though not quite as... elevated as your match, of course."

"Elevation isn't everything," Lydia said softly, thinking of Elias's rare smiles, the way his eyes softened when he looked at Peter. "The heart wants what it wants."

"Speaking of wants," Jane's voice dropped to a whisper, "that odious Mr. Blackwood is still pursuing Diana, despite Father telling him she's not interested."

Diana squirmed uncomfortably. "He's not so bad, really. Just... persistent."

"Persistent?" Jane's eyes flashed. "He followed you home from church last Sunday! And I caught him lurking in the garden Tuesday morning. It's becoming frightening."

Lydia sat up straighter, concern sharpening her voice. "Diana, why didn't you tell me? This is serious."

"I didn't want to worry you," Diana mumbled, studying her hands. "You have so much to manage here, and it's not really..."

"Nonsense." Lydia reached for her sister's hands. "I'm still your big sister, duchess or not. In fact..." She smiled suddenly. "Being a duchess might be rather useful in this situation. Why don't you all stay with us for a while? We could host some small gatherings, introduce you to more suitable gentlemen..."

"Really?" Diana's face lit up. "You'd do that?"

"Of course! And I'm sure Elias wouldn't mind advancing some funds for new gowns, if needed. You're my sisters – your happiness matters to me."

"Oh, Lydia!" Jane threw her arms around her. "You're the best sister ever! Though..." She pulled back, grinning. "Does this mean we have to call you 'Your Grace' now?"

"Only in public," Lydia laughed. "And only if you want me to tell Mr. Harrison about the time you tried to teach Marian's cat to dance."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, little sister."

Their laughter drew a sharp look from their mother. "Really, girls," Prudence said acidly. "Such unseemly behavior. Though I suppose we can't expect better, given the example being set."

"I beg your pardon?" Lydia's voice cooled considerably.

"Well, my dear," her mother's tone dripped false concern, "one does wonder about your... priorities. All this frivolity when you should be focusing on your primary duty. Unless..." Her eyes narrowed speculatively. "Have you and His Grace even attempted to produce an heir?"

The room went deathly quiet. Lydia felt her sisters tense beside her, saw her father shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Mother!" Marian gasped. "You can't just ask such things!"

"Why not? It's a perfectly reasonable question. After all, she's been married for months now, and still no signs of..." The Viscountess gestured vaguely. "One begins to wonder if she's even trying. Or if perhaps His Grace finds her... lacking in some way."

Something inside Lydia snapped. She rose to her feet, drawing herself up to her full height. "That is quite enough."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, that is enough." Lydia's voice was steel wrapped in silk. "You may be my mother, but I am the Duchess of Fyre, and I will not tolerate such disrespect in my own home."

"Disrespect?" The Viscountess sputtered. "I am merely expressing natural concern for your situation! After all, what good is a duchess who can't even fulfill her basic duties?"

"My 'situation' is none of your concern," Lydia said coldly. "Nor are my duties to my husband or this household. If you cannot maintain basic courtesy, perhaps it would be better if you shortened your visit."

Her father stood abruptly. "Now see here, Lydia…"

"No, Father. You see here." Lydia met his gaze steadily. "I am no longer the disappointing daughter you can berate at will. I am mistress of this house, and I will be treated with respect – both by you and by Mother. Is that understood?"

A tense silence fell. Lydia could feel her heart pounding but kept her chin lifted, her gaze unwavering. Finally, her father dropped his eyes .

"Perhaps," he said stiffly, "we should retire to prepare for dinner."

As her parents swept from the room, Lydia's sisters clustered around her.

"That was magnificent!" Jane breathed. "I've never seen anyone stand up to them like that!"

"Are you alright?" Marian asked more practically, noting how Lydia's hands trembled slightly.

"I'm fine," Lydia managed a smile. "Though perhaps you could ask Mrs. Winters to bring some tea? I find I need a moment to..."

"Of course," Diana squeezed her hand. "We'll give you some time alone."

Once her sisters had gone, Lydia sank onto the settee, her carefully maintained composure crumbling. Her mother always had a way of reawakening every doubt that dared exist in her mind.

She was failing in her most basic duty. For all her progress with Peter, all the small victories with Elias, she still hadn't fulfilled the primary purpose of their marriage. What if her mother was right? What if Elias did find her lacking? How could she hope for a real marriage when she couldn't even...

"Stop that," she told herself firmly, rising to pace the room. "You're being ridiculous. Elias isn't like that. He's..."

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Enter," she called, quickly composing her features.

Mrs. Winters appeared with the tea tray, her kind face concerned. "Your sisters mentioned you might need this, Your Grace. Shall I pour?"

"Yes, thank you." Lydia sank back onto the settee, accepting a cup with trembling fingers. "Mrs. Winters? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Do you think... that is..." Lydia took a steadying breath. "Am I doing well? As a duchess, I mean?"

The housekeeper's face softened with understanding. "Better than well, if you ask me. This house hasn't felt so alive in years. Young Master Peter is flourishing, the staff actually smile at their work, and His Grace..." She paused meaningfully. "Well, let's just say we've all noticed the changes in him too."

"But is it enough?" Lydia whispered, more to herself than the housekeeper.

"Enough for whom?" Mrs. Winters asked shrewdly. "Your parents? Society? Or yourself?"

The question caught Lydia off guard. Who was she trying to please? Her parents, who had never been satisfied with anything she did? Society, with its endless expectations and judgments? Or her own heart, which wanted something far simpler and yet infinitely more complex?

"I don't know anymore," she admitted.

"Then perhaps that's where you should start." Mrs. Winters patted her hand gently. "Establish what it is that you want, Your Grace. The rest will follow."

As the housekeeper left, Lydia sipped her tea thoughtfully. What did she want? Peter's happiness, certainly. Elias's love, if she was honest with herself. A real family, a true marriage, children of their own someday...

Rising, she moved to the window, watching as her sisters strolled through the garden below. They looked so carefree, laughing together in the afternoon sun. She would help them find their happiness, she resolved. Diana would be safe from unwanted suitors, Marian would have her chance with Mr. Harrison, and Jane... well, Jane would probably find her own adventure, as she always did.

Lost in her thoughts, Lydia almost missed the soft knock at the drawing room door. She turned to find Peter hovering uncertainly in the doorway, Mug at his heels.

"Lydia?" His voice was small. "Are you alright? I heard raised voices, and then my aunts looked worried, and..."

Her heart melted at his concern. "Come here, darling." She held out her arms, and he rushed into them without hesitation. "I'm perfectly fine. Just a little family disagreement."

"Like when Father and I disagree about proper dignity versus pirate adventures?" Peter asked, making her laugh despite herself.

"Something like that." She pressed a kiss to his curls. "Though speaking of adventures, shouldn't you be at your lessons?"

"Miss Nancy said I could take a break." He pulled back slightly, his face earnest. "I thought... maybe you'd like to see how the herb garden is growing? The lavender you brought from London is starting to sprout!"

How could she resist such sweet determination to cheer her? "I would love that. Though perhaps we should collect your aunts as well? I'm sure they'd be fascinated by your botanical expertise."

Peter beamed. "Oh yes! And I can show them the special medicinal section! Thomas taught me all about fever-reducing plants yesterday, and..."

As they made their way to the garden, Peter chattering excitedly about his latest horticultural discoveries, Lydia felt the tension from her earlier confrontation slowly melting away. Her sisters joined them eagerly, and soon the air was filled with laughter as Peter demonstrated his knowledge.

"See?" he explained seriously to a wide-eyed Diana. "The chamomile goes here because it needs afternoon shade, but the thyme likes full sun so it goes along this border..."

"He's quite the scholar," Marian observed quietly to Lydia. "You've done wonders with him, you know."

Lydia watched as Peter proudly showed Jane how to check the soil moisture. "He's done wonders with me too," she admitted softly.

After thoroughly touring the herb garden, they settled in the library. Peter pulled out his drawing materials while Lydia's sisters clustered around to watch him work. Even Mug seemed to understand the peaceful mood, curling up contentedly at Peter's feet instead of trying to steal his crayons.

"Could you read to us, Lydia?" Peter asked, not looking up from his sketch. "Like you used to do with your sisters?"

"Oh yes!" Jane clapped her hands. "Do you remember how you used to make up voices for all the characters?"

"And sounds, too !" Diana added. "Remember the time you got so excited during the storm scene that you knocked over Mother's favorite vase?"

Lydia laughed, reaching for Peter's new adventure book. "Very well, but let's try to keep the property damage to a minimum this time."

As she began to read, her voice bringing pirates and sea monsters to life, she watched Peter's hands move confidently across the paper. He was drawing the herb garden, she realized, but with fantastic additions – massive flowers in impossible colors, tiny fairies tending the plants, what looked suspiciously like a friendly dragon curled protectively around the lavender bed.

"Is that how it really looks?" she teased gently, pausing in her reading.

Peter grinned up at her. "Only if you know how to look properly. Thomas says every garden has magic in it, if you pay attention."

"Wise words," Marian nodded seriously. "Though I'm not sure your father would approve of dragons in his herb garden."

"Oh, Father's getting better about such things," Peter said confidently. "Lydia's teaching him how to see the magic too."

The simple faith in his voice made Lydia's throat tight. Setting aside the book, she pulled him close for a quick hug. "And you're teaching me, darling. We're all learning together."

As the afternoon light softened into evening, Lydia found herself treasuring each moment – Jane's dramatic recreation of her favorite scenes from the book, Diana's quiet giggles as Mug performed his own interpretation of a sea monster, Marian's thoughtful questions about Peter's garden plans. This, she realized, was what truly mattered. Not her parents' disapproval or society's expectations, but these precious moments with the people she loved.

"Lydia?" Peter's voice drew her from her thoughts. "I made something for you." He held out his drawing, suddenly shy. "To cheer you up. See? The dragon is protecting all the things that make you happy – the herbs, and the books, and us..."

Lydia studied the picture, taking in every magical detail. There in the corner, she noticed, was a figure that looked remarkably like Elias, watching over them all with what might have been a smile.

"It's perfect," she whispered, hugging him close. "Absolutely perfect."

Later, after Peter had been called away to his evening lessons and her sisters had gone to dress for dinner, Lydia carefully tucked the drawing into her journal. Whatever challenges lay ahead – with her parents, with Elias, with her own doubts – she had this. This love, this family they were building, this magic they were discovering together.

Perhaps that was enough for now. Perhaps that was everything after all.