Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

L ydia could hardly notice the beauty of the park as they walked. It was a route they had traveled countless times in their youth, though today the familiar surroundings felt somehow different—tainted perhaps by the weight of all she carried in her heart. The autumn breeze stirred fallen leaves around their feet, and Lydia found herself remembering how Peter had once described the changing colors as "nature's own art gallery."

Every memory of Fyre Manor seemed to pierce her anew. Even here, surrounded by the comfortable familiarity of her childhood home, she couldn't escape the ache of missing them. Missing Peter's morning visits to her chambers, his excited chatter about his latest drawings. Missing the way Mug would chase butterflies in the garden while Elias pretended not to smile. Missing...

"Enough brooding," Jane declared, linking her arm through Lydia's. "You've been here a week and you've barely said two words about what really happened at Fyre Manor. You drift about like a ghost, staring at nothing, and we're worried sick about you."

"Jane," Marian warned, but Lydia shook her head.

"No, she's right. I owe you all an explanation." Lydia led them to a secluded bench, one that had witnessed many sisterly confidences over the years. The weathered wood still bore their initials, carved in secret one summer afternoon long ago. "Though I hardly know where to begin."

"The beginning is usually best," Diana suggested gently, settling beside her. She took Lydia's hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "When did things start to change between you and the Duke?"

Lydia twisted her hands in her lap, searching for words. The breeze caught at her hair, reminding her painfully of how Elias's fingers had once brushed a stray curl from her cheek. "I... I made a terrible mistake," she said finally. "I fell in love with him."

Her sisters exchanged glances. "Is that really such a mistake?" Marian asked softly. "Loving one's husband?"

"It is when he can never love you in return." Lydia's voice caught slightly. "When his heart still belongs to someone else."

"His first wife?" Jane's usual exuberance dimmed with understanding. "But surely?—"

"You didn't see his face when I asked..." Lydia broke off, the memory still too raw. That terrible moment in his study, when she'd dared to hope for more, only to have her dreams shattered by his cold refusal.

"I thought I could be content with what he offered," Lydia continued, blinking back tears. The words came easier now, as if speaking them aloud somehow lessened their power to wound. "A position, a home, a chance to be a mother to Peter. But I was foolish. I wanted more. I wanted..." She gestured helplessly. "Everything. His smile in the morning, his trust, his heart. I wanted him to look at me the way… I don't know, the way they do in books, I suppose… Like I was something precious, something worth protecting."

"That's not foolish," Marian said firmly. "You deserve everything, Lydia. And if the Duke can't see that…"

"Sometimes I think he does see it," Lydia admitted quietly. "There are moments when he looks at me, and I could swear..." She twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. "But then he remembers himself and the walls come back up. It's like watching a flower close at the first touch of frost."

"Men," Jane declared with all the wisdom of her nineteen years, "are impossibly stupid creatures. Even dukes, apparently."

That startled a laugh from Lydia, though it quickly turned watery. "He's not stupid, Jane. He's... wounded. Scarred in ways I can't reach. And perhaps that's the real tragedy—that I love him enough to understand why he pushes me away, even as it breaks my heart."

"Have you told him?" Diana asked. "How you feel?"

"Not in so many words. But surely he must know? After everything..." Lydia broke off, remembering that kiss in the garden, the way he had looked at her in that midnight blue gown. "Or perhaps I've imagined it all. Perhaps I've been seeing what I wished to see, rather than what was truly there."

"From what you've told us in your letters," Marian said thoughtfully, "it seems the Duke cares for you more than you realize. The way he watches you with Peter, how he ordered all those gowns from Madame Delacour..."

"And danced with you at the ball!" Jane added. "Everyone says he never dances."

"Momentary lapses," Lydia said bitterly. "Weaknesses he immediately regrets. You should have seen his face when I suggested sharing his chambers, as a proper wife should. You'd have thought I'd suggested something truly scandalous, like teaching Mug to juggle or letting Peter eat dessert before dinner."

Her attempt at humor fell flat as her sisters exchanged worried glances. "Is that why you left?" Diana asked gently. "Because he refused you?"

"No. Yes. I don't know anymore." Lydia pressed her fingers to her temples, fighting back fresh tears. "I left because I couldn't bear to keep pretending. To sit across from him at breakfast, to watch him with Peter, to love them both so much while knowing I'll never truly be part of their family. I'm just... a convenient arrangement. A duchess to manage his household and mother his son. Nothing more."

"Lydia…" Marian began, but was cut off by Jane's sharp intake of breath.

"Look out," Jane interrupted suddenly, her voice sharp with warning. "It's that man."

Lydia followed her sister's gaze to see a gentleman approaching their bench, his stride purposeful. Diana went rigid beside her, all color draining from her face. The shift in her sister's demeanor was so dramatic it made Lydia's protective instincts flare instantly.

"Lady Diana," the man called, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. Something about that smile made Lydia's skin crawl—too practiced, too perfect, like a mask carefully constructed to hide something darker beneath. "What a delightful surprise! And your sisters too, how charming."

"Lord Blackwood," Diana murmured, her voice barely audible. She seemed to shrink into herself, a reaction that set off warning bells in Lydia's mind. Diana, usually so composed, was trembling slightly beneath her carefully arranged shawl.

"I'm afraid we were just leaving," Lydia said smoothly, rising to her feet. She didn't miss the way Lord Blackwood's smile hardened slightly at her intervention, a brief crack in his pleasant facade revealing something that made her instinctively move closer to Diana. "Family matters to attend to, you understand."

"Surely you can spare a few moments?" His tone was pleasant enough, but there was an edge to it that reminded Lydia uncomfortably of a blade wrapped in silk. "I've been trying to speak with Lady Diana for days now. Most inconsiderate of her to keep avoiding me, wouldn't you say?"

"And I'm sure you'll have another opportunity," Lydia replied, her voice taking on a distinctly ducal chill. Living with Elias had taught her something about wielding authority like a shield. "At a more appropriate time. Good day, sir."

She guided her sisters away, noting how Diana trembled slightly under her touch. They walked quickly, not speaking until they were well out of sight. The cheerful afternoon had taken on a darker cast, the shadows between the trees suddenly seeming deeper, more threatening.

"Diana," Lydia said softly once they were safely away, "how long has this been going on?"

"It's nothing," Diana tried to insist, but her hands were shaking as she smoothed her skirts. "He's just... persistent."

"Persistent?" Jane's voice cracked with anger. "It's not nothing! He follows her everywhere, Lydia. Watches the house, appears wherever she goes. Last week he tried to force his way into the garden, claiming they had an understanding!"

"Jane!" Diana protested weakly.

"No, she needs to know!" Jane's eyes flashed with protective fury. "He's not right in the head, Lydia. The way he talks about Diana, like she belongs to him... it's frightening. He leaves notes, appears at church, at shops—anywhere she might be. Last Tuesday I found him standing outside her window at dawn, just... watching."

Lydia felt cold anger settle in her chest. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"You had your own troubles," Marian said quietly, her arm protectively around Diana's shoulders. "And we thought we could handle it. Father spoke to him, told him to stay away, but..."

"But he ignored it," Lydia finished grimly. "As such men often do. Their sense of entitlement makes them deaf to any refusal."

"He says... he says I'm lucky he chose me." Diana's voice was barely a whisper, and Lydia had to lean closer to hear. "That no one else would want me, that I should be grateful for his attention. And sometimes when he looks at me, I..." She shuddered. "It's like being watched by something hungry. Something that wants to... to consume me."

"Listen to me," Lydia said fiercely, taking Diana's hands in hers. They were ice-cold despite the mild afternoon. "You are not lucky to be chosen by him. You are not beneath anyone's notice. And you do not owe him anything, do you understand?"

Diana nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm scared, Lydia. He won't stop, and I don't know what to do. Last night I dreamed he was in my room, just standing there, watching me sleep. When I woke up, the curtains were moving and I thought... I thought..."

"I'll take care of it," Lydia promised, her voice hard with determination. "He won't trouble you anymore." She lifted her chin proudly. Despite her utter heartache over it, she had learned something about handling wolves in gentleman's clothing during her time at Fyre Manor. Sometimes it took a beast to fight a beast.

They started for home, taking a shorter route through the narrow streets. The afternoon shadows had lengthened, and Lydia quickened their pace, wanting to reach the safety of the house before dark. The comfortable familiarity of their childhood neighborhood seemed different now, every alley a potential hiding place, every shadow a threat.

None of them heard the footsteps until it was too late. The first warning was the scrape of boots on cobblestones, too close behind them.

"Now really, ladies," Lord Blackwood's voice came from behind them, making them all freeze. The pleasant mask he'd worn in the park was gone completely now, leaving something darker, hungrier in its place. "That wasn't very polite, running away like that."

They turned to find him blocking the narrow alley, effectively cutting off their escape route. The fading sunlight caught the gleam of something in his hand—was it a knife? Lydia shifted slightly, positioning herself between him and Diana.

"Come along, my dear," he said, holding out his hand. His eyes never left Diana, as if the rest of them were merely inconvenient obstacles to be removed. "It's time we settled this nonsense."

"She's not going anywhere with you," Jane snapped, pushing Diana behind her. Lydia had never been prouder of her youngest sister's fierce courage.

Lord Blackwood's face twisted with ugly anger. The last vestiges of his gentlemanly facade crumbled, revealing something that made Lydia's blood run cold. "This doesn't concern you. Diana is mine by right. I've chosen her, shown her more attention than she deserves, and this is how she repays me? By hiding behind her sisters like a coward?"

"The only coward here is you," Lydia said coldly, drawing on every ounce of ducal authority she'd learned from Elias. "Harassing young ladies, following them about—is this how a gentleman behaves? What would your family say if they knew?"

"Gentleman?" He laughed, the sound sharp and dangerous as broken glass. "Oh, Your Grace, you of all people should understand. After all, didn't you marry a man they call the Beast? Some of us must take what we want, mustn't we? Though I must say," his eyes raked over her with contempt, "he didn't choose very well. No wonder he keeps you at arm's length."

The words struck deeper than they should have, finding all her hidden wounds. But before she could respond, he lunged forward suddenly, grabbing for Diana. His fingers caught in her shawl, yanking her forward with shocking violence.

Jane reacted instantly, her fist connecting with his jaw in a most unladylike display of violence. He staggered back, shock turning quickly to rage as blood trickled from his split lip.

"You little…" He raised his hand to strike Jane, but Lydia threw herself forward, screaming as loudly as she could.

"Help! Someone help us! Fire! Thief! Murder!"

His hand connected with her instead, sending her stumbling backward. The world spun crazily as her head struck something hard—the corner of a wall perhaps—and the ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet. She was dimly aware of more shouting, of running footsteps, of her sisters calling her name through the roaring in her ears.

"Lydia! No! Oh, no… Oh, no, she's bleeding!"

"Help! Somebody please help!"

"Diana, run for the doctor! Quickly!"

The voices seemed to come from very far away, as if she were underwater. She tried to open her eyes, to tell them she was fine, but the darkness kept pulling at her, dragging her down into its depths.

When consciousness returned, it came in fragments. Pain, sharp and throbbing at the back of her head, making even the faintest light unbearable. Voices, familiar and worried, speaking over her. The sensation of movement, of being carried, though she couldn't tell by whom.

"Lydia?" That was Marian's voice, thick with tears. "Can you hear me? Please, please open your eyes."

She tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Everything felt heavy, distant, as if she were trapped in a dream she couldn't wake from. Someone was pressing something cool against her head, but even that gentle touch sent waves of agony through her skull.

"The doctor's coming," another voice said—Jane? "And I've sent word to Fyre Manor. They need to know..."

Fyre Manor. Elias. Would they tell him? Would he care? Or would this be just another inconvenience to be handled with proper dignity?

"Peter," she tried to say, but she wasn't sure if the word actually left her lips. "Tell Peter... I'm sorry... promised to write..."

The darkness pulled at her again, stronger this time, and she was too tired to fight it anymore. Her last coherent thought was of Peter's face, of how his eyes lit up when he smiled—Elias's eyes, but warmer, full of a love he didn't try to hide.

Then there was nothing but silence, and the endless dark.

But even as consciousness fled, some part of her held onto a single truth: Elias needed to know about Lord Blackwood. Diana wasn't safe, none of them were, as long as that man walked free. Elias would be able to take care of it, he would protect them…

The thought followed her down into the darkness, a final prayer before everything faded away: Please, let me wake up. Let me keep them safe. Let me see them one more time...

Then even that was gone, leaving nothing but the quiet dark and the distant sound of her sisters' frightened voices, calling her name as if from very far away.