Page 74 of Duke of Fyre

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 inthe 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 shouldunderstand. 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.

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