Page 21 of Duke of Fyre

"All children can be challenging," Lydia said, then hastily added, "Not that I have much experience with children, of course, except for my sisters, but they were different, being my sisters, and I wasn't really their mother figure, though I did help raise them, but that's not the same as being a proper mother, whichI suppose I'll have to learn to be now, though I'm sure Peter won't make it too difficult, unless he does, in which case I'll simply have to..." She clamped her mouth shut, mortified by her rambling.

The silence that followed was excruciating. Lydia wished fervently that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

"You needn't be nervous," Elias said after what felt like an eternity. "Peter is... adaptable. Like your dog, apparently."

Was that an attempt at humor? Lydia wasn't sure, but she offered a tentative smile anyway. "I do hope we'll get along well. Peter and I, I mean. Not Mug and Peter. Though I hope they get along too. Not that it's the most important thing, of course. The most important thing is that I be a good mother figure, which I fully intend to be, even though I'm not quite sure how to go about it yet, but I'm determined to learn, and..."

"You're rambling again," Elias observed, though his tone seemed more amused than annoyed.

"Yes, I... I do that when I'm nervous," Lydia admitted, twisting her gloves in her lap. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Elias said, surprising her. "It's... refreshing."

Before Lydia could process what that might mean, Mug let out another dramatic snore, followed by what sounded suspiciouslylike a tiny bark. Both of them looked down at the sleeping dog, then back at each other.

"He's usually much more dignified," Lydia said weakly.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Elias replied, but there was definitely a hint of humor in his voice now.

They lapsed into silence once more, though this time it felt slightly less uncomfortable. Lydia found herself stealing glances at her new husband, noting the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair curled slightly at his collar, the elegant way he held himself even while sitting in a moving carriage.

"Is there something on my face?" Elias asked without looking up from his papers.

Lydia startled, realizing she'd been staring. "No! No, I was just... that is... I was admiring the... the countryside. Through the window. Behind you."

"The countryside," Elias repeated slowly, "through the window that is currently covered by the curtain?"

Lydia felt her face flame. "Ah. Yes. Well. I suppose I wasn't doing that at all, was I?"

The corner of Elias's mouth twitched. "No, I suppose not. Well," he continued as the carriage slowed. "We are almost here."

He glanced at her with a shadow of a smile before opening the curtain behind him and Lydia leaned forward slightly, eager for her first glimpse of her new home. As the imposing structure came into view, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

The manor was truly spectacular, all soaring spires and elegant stonework. Ivy climbed the weathered walls, and mullioned windows glinted like jewels in the fading light. It was both beautiful and slightly forbidding, much like its master, Lydia thought.

As the carriage drew to a halt, Elias descended first, turning to offer his hand to Lydia. She accepted his assistance, noting how easily he lifted her down, his grip firm but gentle. Mug wriggled in her other arm, eager to explore his new surroundings.

"Welcome to Fyre Manor," Elias said, his deep voice oddly formal. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes linger on her face a moment longer than necessary?

Before Lydia could respond, the great oak doors swung open, revealing a small figure hovering uncertainly in the entrance hall. Peter Blacknight was a slight boy with golden curls and his father's striking blue eyes. He stood ramrod straight, clearly trying to affect the dignified bearing expected of the heir to a dukedom, but Lydia could see the barely contained nervousness in his stance.

"Peter," Elias called, his tone attempting to be gentle. "Come meet your new mother."

The boy approached slowly, his eyes downcast. When he reached them, he executed a perfect bow. "Welcome to Fyre Manor, Your Grace."

As Lydia knelt before him, she noticed small details that tugged at her heart – the slight trembling of his lower lip, the way his small hands were clenched tightly at his sides, the careful distance he maintained even while bowing. This was a child who had learned to be wary of changes, she realized, who had perhaps been disappointed too many times before.

"Thank you, Peter," she said softly. "But please, when we're alone, I'd love it if you'd call me Lydia. And I believe I have someone here who's very eager to meet you."

She gestured to Mug, who had been watching Peter with obvious interest. To her surprise, the usually boisterous dog seemed to sense the delicacy of the moment. Instead of his typical enthusiastic greeting, he approached Peter slowly, tail wagging gently, and sat perfectly still at the boy's feet, looking up at him with soulful eyes.

Peter's eyes widened slightly, a crack appearing in his careful composure. "He's... he's very small," he observed quietly, as if afraid speaking too loudly might frighten the dog away.

"Yes," Lydia smiled. "But what he lacks in size, he makes up for in heart. Would you like to pet him? He's very gentle."

Peter glanced quickly at his father, seeking permission. Elias gave a slight nod, his face unreadable as he watched the interaction.

With trembling fingers, Peter reached out to stroke Mug's scruffy fur. The moment his hand made contact, something magical happened. Mug's entire body wiggled with joy, but he remained sitting, letting the boy pet him at his own pace. A smile broke across Peter's face, transforming his serious countenance into something bright and childlike.

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