Page 2 of Duke of Fyre

But whatever he had been about to say was cut off by a renewed burst of frantic barking from Mug. The little dog had apparently decided he'd been ignored long enough and was now doing his level best to intimidate a man five times his size.

The taller man turned that icy glare on the small creature, his lip curling in disgust. "What," he growled, "is that?"

Lydia knew she could hide no longer. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the clearing. "I do beg your pardon, my lord," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "That would be my dog, Mug."

The man's gaze snapped to her, and Lydia felt as though she'd been struck by lightning. Those eyes... they seemed to see right through her, stripping away every careful façade she'd constructed.

"It is Your Grace. And your dog," he continued, his tone flat and unimpressed. "Is out of control. Do you make a habit of allowing your... pet... to run wild and accost innocent bystanders, Miss...?"

"Lady Lydia Brandon," she supplied, dropping into a hasty curtsy. "And no, Your Grace, I do not. Mug simply got away from me for a moment. I assure you, it won't happen again."

She moved to scoop up the still-barking Mug, but the little dog danced away from her grasp, seeming determined to continue his assault on the Duke's trouser leg.

"Mug, stop that this instant!" Lydia hissed, mortification burning in her cheeks.

The Duke's companion, whom Lydia now recognized as Mr. Figgins, a well-known solicitor, cleared his throat nervously. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion at another time, Your Grace?"

But the Duke ignored him, his attention still fixed on Lydia. "You should keep better control of your animals, Lady Lydia. It's most unbecoming for a lady of your station to be chasing after ill-mannered curs in public parks."

Lydia felt a spark of indignation flare in her chest. How dare he speak to her in such a manner? Duke or no, he had no right to be so rude.

"I assure you, Your Grace," she said, her chin lifting defiantly, "Mug is not ill-mannered. He is simply... protective. And I would thank you not to refer to him as a cur."

Something flickered in the Duke's eyes - surprise, perhaps, at her temerity. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same cold disdain.

"Protective?" he scoffed. "Of what, pray tell? Your nonexistent virtue?"

Lydia gasped, shock and outrage warring within her. "How dare you, sir! You know nothing about me or my virtue!"

"Nor do I care to," the Duke replied dismissively. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have far more important matters to attend to than arguing with spinsters in the park."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Lydia gaping in his wake. Mr. Figgins hurried after him, shooting an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

Mug, sensing his mistress's distress, finally abandoned his attack on the Duke's retreating figure and trotted back to Lydia's side. He looked up at her with adoring eyes, as if to say, "Don't worry, I scared him off for you."

Despite herself, Lydia felt a small smile tug at her lips. She scooped up the little dog, burying her face in his scruffy fur for a moment.

"Oh, Mug," she sighed. "What am I going to do with you? You've probably just ruined what little standing I had left in society."

As she slowly walked out of the park and to her carriage, Lydia couldn't shake the memory of those piercing blue eyes. There was no denial that the man was quite handsome and yet… irritation coursed through her. Arrogant, domineering, high-handed soul! He was frustrating - beyond belief.

As Lydia made her way home, her steps quick and purposeful, she couldn't shake the lingering anger and frustration from her encounter with the Duke. Mug, now safely ensconced in her arms, seemed blissfully unaware of the turmoil he had caused.

"You really must learn to behave, you know," she murmured to the little dog, who responded by licking her chin affectionately. "One of these days, your antics are going to land us both in serious trouble."

As she neared Drownshire House, Lydia's pace slowed. She was in no hurry to face her parents, knowing all too well the lecture that awaited her. No doubt news of her "unseemly" behavior in the park had already reached their ears. The ton's gossip network was nothing if not efficient.

Sure enough, as soon as she stepped through the door, she was accosted by her mother's shrill voice.

"Lydia! There you are, you impossible girl. What's this I hear about you making a spectacle of yourself in Hyde Park?"

Viscountess Drownshire swept into the foyer, her face a mask of disapproval. Lydia sighed, setting Mug down and straightening her posture.

"It was nothing, Mother," she said, striving for a casual tone. "Mug simply got away from me for a moment. I assure you, it won't happen again."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "It had better not. Really, Lydia, at your age, you should know better. Running about in public like a hoyden, and in front of the Duke of Fyre, no less! What were you thinking?"

Lydia felt a fresh wave of irritation at the mention of the Duke. "I assure you, Mother, I had no intention of encountering His Grace. It was purely by chance-"

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