Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

S leep did not come for Lydia at all that night–in fact, she never even considered it. Instead, she spent the whole night working, almost methodically. By the time the sun rose, Lydia stood in the entrance hall, her traveling bag at her feet. She had packed little—just enough for a brief stay—though the weight of what she was leaving behind pressed heavy on her heart.

Peter had wept when she told him, his small arms clinging to her waist as she explained that she needed some time away. "But you'll come back?" he had asked, his voice trembling. "You promise?"

"Of course, darling," she had whispered, pressing a kiss to his golden curls. "I just need a little time to... to sort some things out. You'll be good for Miss Nancy while I'm gone? And I… well, I will leave Mug here with you. He will take care of you while I am gone. And I shall write, I promise."

Now, the choice she had made during the night seemed far more impulsive, far more final than she had meant it to be. She took a shuddering breath as she stared at the door, everything in her aching to turn back and take Peter with her.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her turn. Elias stood at the landing, his face a mask of carefully controlled indifference. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of emotion he couldn't quite hide, that made her breath catch.

"So," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "you're leaving."

"Yes." She lifted her chin, refusing to let her voice waver. "I've left instructions for Mrs. Winters about Peter's needs, and I've written down his schedule for…"

"You don't need to explain," Elias cut her off, his tone growing colder. "You've made your decision."

Lydia felt anger flare in her chest, hot and bright. "Have I? Or was that decision made for me last night when you made it clear exactly what my place in this household would be?"

A muscle jumped in his jaw, but his expression remained impassive. "Where will you go?"

"To my parents' house." She watched his face carefully, looking for any reaction. "I'll be helping my sisters find suitable matches. Since that seems to be all I'm good for—arranging marriages of convenience."

The words hung between them, sharp and bitter. Elias's hands clenched at his sides, and for a moment, she thought he might say something—might ask her to stay, might offer some explanation for his coldness. But he remained silent, his blue eyes stormy with unspoken words.

"I've told Peter I'll write to him," she continued when the silence grew too heavy. "And I've asked Miss Nancy to send reports of his progress. Though perhaps you'd prefer I maintain proper distance there as well?"

"That won't be necessary," Elias said stiffly. "Peter is... fond of you."

"Fond." Lydia laughed, though the sound held no humor. "What a perfectly proper word. How very ducal of you."

She saw the flash of anger in his eyes, quickly masked. "Lydia?—"

"No." She held up a hand, stopping whatever he might have said. "I can't do this anymore, Elias. I can't keep pretending that your coldness doesn't hurt, that your distance doesn't matter. I need... I need time."

The morning light caught the silver at his temples, softening his stern features for just a moment. She remembered how those features had relaxed when he smiled, how his eyes had warmed when he watched Peter in the garden. But now his face was a stranger's, closed off and remote.

"Then by all means," he said, his voice like ice, "take all the time you need."

Lydia felt something crack inside her chest. Even now, even after everything, he wouldn't unbend enough to ask her to stay. Pride and proper dignity would always matter more than whatever fragile thing had grown between them.

"Goodbye, Your Grace," she said formally, the title a deliberate barrier between them. She bent to pick up her bag, but a footman appeared, reaching for it before she could.

"The carriage is ready, Your Grace," he murmured, his eyes carefully averted from the tension between his master and mistress.

Lydia nodded, turning toward the door. She had almost reached it when Elias's voice stopped her.

"Lydia." His tone was different now, softer, almost uncertain. "I..."

She waited, her heart hammering against her ribs. But whatever he might have said died unspoken as his face hardened once more.

"Have a safe journey," he finished formally.

Without another word, she stepped out into the morning air. The carriage waited, its doors already open, and she climbed inside without looking back. As they pulled away from Fyre Manor, she pressed her fingers against the window, watching the great house recede into the distance.

Only then did she allow the tears to fall.

The journey to her parents' house passed in a blur of autumn countryside and tumbling thoughts. Lydia barely noticed the familiar landmarks that marked their progress, her mind too full of the morning's goodbye. She kept seeing Peter's tearful face, feeling the weight of Elias's silence.

When they finally arrived, the house seemed smaller than she remembered, its neat gardens and modest facade a stark contrast to Fyre Manor's grandeur. Her mother appeared in the doorway before the carriage had fully stopped, her face pinched with concern and something that looked uncomfortably like satisfaction.

"Lydia!" Viscountess Prudence hurried down the steps, her voice pitched just loud enough to catch the neighbors' attention. "What a... surprise. Is everything quite well?"

"Good morning, Mother." Lydia stepped down from the carriage, grateful for years of practice at maintaining a calm facade. "I thought I might visit for a while. To help with the girls' season."

Her mother's eyes narrowed slightly. "The girls' season? Or has something happened with His Grace?"

"Nothing has happened," Lydia said firmly. "I simply missed my sisters and thought my experience might be useful in helping them make suitable matches."

"Hmm." The Viscountess's tone held volumes of skepticism. "Well, come inside. Though I must say, it's most irregular for a duchess to abandon her household without her husband's company..."

"I haven't abandoned anything," Lydia snapped, then immediately regretted the show of temper as her mother's eyebrows rose. "I merely thought a change of scenery might be beneficial for everyone."

Inside, she found her sisters waiting in the drawing room. Their faces lit up at the sight of her, though she saw the concern in their eyes as they took in her travel-worn appearance.

"Lydia!" Jane bounded forward to embrace her. "We weren't expecting you! Is something wrong? Has the Beast of Fyre…"

"Jane!" Marian cut her off with a sharp look. "Let Lydia catch her breath before you start interrogating her."

But Diana, always the most perceptive, was studying Lydia's face carefully. "You've been crying," she said softly.

"Nonsense," Lydia attempted a smile. "It's just the wind from the carriage. Now, tell me what you've all been up to. Has Mr. Harrison called again, Marian?"

Her obvious attempt at deflection didn't fool any of them, but they played along, filling her in on the latest neighborhood gossip. Their father appeared briefly, his expression troubled, but he said little before retreating to his study.

It wasn't until that evening, after their parents had retired, that her sisters cornered her in her old bedroom.

"Alright," Jane said, perching on the foot of the bed. "Out with it. What's really going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Lydia insisted, unpacking her bag with determined concentration. "I simply thought…"

"Lydia." Marian's voice was gentle but firm. "We're your sisters. We know when something's wrong."

The kindness in her tone nearly undid Lydia's composure. She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed her skirts.

"I just... needed some time away," she said finally. "To think about things."

"What things?" Diana asked softly, settling beside her.

Lydia stared at her hands, twisting in her lap. How could she explain the complexity of her feelings? The way Elias's coldness cut deeper than any blade, the ache of wanting something he refused to give, the fear that she would never be more than a convenient arrangement in his life?

"Did he hurt you?" Jane demanded, her eyes flashing. "Because if he did, I'll... I'll..."

"No, nothing like that," Lydia assured her quickly. "He's been perfectly proper. Exactly as a duke should be." She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

"Ah." Marian's expression cleared with understanding. "Too proper, perhaps?"

Lydia felt tears burning behind her eyes. "I thought... I was so foolish. I thought if I just tried hard enough, if I could show him..." She broke off, pressing her fingers to her lips to stop their trembling.

Her sisters exchanged glances, then moved as one to surround her. Diana's arms went around her shoulders while Jane clasped her hand tightly.

"You weren't foolish," Marian said firmly. "We've all seen how you've changed that household. Even Mother commented on how different the Duke seemed at dinner that night."

"But it wasn't enough," Lydia whispered. "It will never be enough. He doesn't want... he won't let me..." She couldn't finish, the words too painful to voice.

"Oh, Lydia." Diana hugged her closer. "Tell us how to help."

Lydia managed a watery smile. "Just... let me stay for a while? Help me remember who I was before I became the Duchess of Fyre?"

"Of course," Jane declared. "Though I must say, I rather like who you've become. You're stronger now, braver. And if His Grace can't see what he has in you, then he's an even bigger beast than the gossips claim."

"Jane!" Marian scolded, but Lydia found herself laughing despite her tears.

"I've missed you all so much," she said softly. "Sometimes the manor feels so... empty, even with Peter's laughter and Mug's adventures."

"Speaking of Mug," Diana glanced around. "Where is that impossible creature?"

"I left him with Peter," Lydia explained. "I couldn't bear to separate them, and Peter needs the comfort more than I do right now."

Her sisters exchanged knowing looks at the maternal tone in her voice. "You love that boy," Marian said gently. "As if he were your own."

"He is my own," Lydia replied without hesitation. "In every way that matters." Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "Which makes this even harder."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Jane straightened her shoulders with determination.

"Well," she announced, "if we're to help you remember who you were, we might as well start now. Diana, fetch that bottle of wine Cook keeps hidden in the pantry. Marian, find those chocolate biscuits Mother thinks we don't know about. And you," she pointed at Lydia, "are going to tell us everything. Every detail. And then we'll help you figure out what to do next."

Lydia found herself smiling despite the ache in her chest. This was what she had missed—the unconditional support of sisters who knew her heart better than she knew it herself.

"Everything?" she asked, managing a weak laugh.

"Everything," Jane confirmed firmly. "Starting with why you're really here, and ending with how we're going to make that stubborn duke of yours realize exactly what he's about to lose."

As her sisters scurried to gather their illicit supplies, Lydia leaned back against the familiar pillows of her childhood bed. The room felt smaller than she remembered, yet somehow safer. Here, at least, she could let down the careful walls she'd built around her heart.

But as the night deepened and her sisters plotted various schemes to bring Elias to his senses, Lydia found her thoughts drifting back to Fyre Manor. To Peter, who would be preparing for bed now, perhaps with Mug curled at his feet. To the gardens where they had played pirates and dragons. To Elias, alone in his study, surrounded by the weight of duty and proper dignity.

She wondered if he missed her, even a little. Or if, like everything else in their marriage, her absence was simply another inconvenience to be managed with appropriate decorum.

The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes, but this time, surrounded by her sisters' love, she let them fall freely. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for tonight, she could simply be Lydia—not a duchess, not a wife, just a woman trying to find her way back to herself.

And perhaps, in finding herself, she might also find the strength to face whatever lay ahead.