Page 81 of Duke of Fyre

Elias exhaled, his shoulders slumping. "And what would I even tell him? That his mother hated me? That she would have rather died than stayed?"

"No," Lydia said softly. "You tell him the truth. That you loved her in the only way you knew how, and that you've spent every day since trying to do right by him."

Elias's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked like a man teetering on the edge of a precipice. "What if it's not enough?"

"It will be," Lydia said simply. "Because it has to be."

The resolve in her voice seemed to steady him, though she could see the doubts still lingering at the edges. But he didn't argue further. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Of so many things. Of losing you. Of being the reason you might hate me one day."

"You won't lose me," Lydia said, her heart aching at the rawness of his confession. "And I could never hate you, Elias. Not for this. Not for anything."

He looked at her then, something in his expression shifting. It was as though her words had reached a place within him he hadn't realized was there, a place that had long been closed off.

"You're certain?" he asked, his voice almost desperate.

"Yes," Lydia said, her voice steady and unyielding. "I'm certain."

Elias stared at her for a long moment before leaning forward, his hands cradling her face as though she were the most precious thing in the world. "I don't deserve you," he said again, though this time his tone was filled with something closer to wonder than despair.

"You do," Lydia whispered, her own hands covering his. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and fervent, a silent promise between them. When they finally pulled apart, Elias rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet space.

"I love you," he said, the words rough but certain.

"I love you too," Lydia replied, her voice trembling with emotion.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as they sat together, the world outside the chamber fading into irrelevance. For the first time in what felt like forever, Elias allowed himself to breathe—to truly breathe—and Lydia stayed by his side, her presence a balm to the wounds he had carried for so long.

CHAPTER 33

Afew days later, a newly healed Lydia sat stiffly in the dining room, staring down at the teacup her mother had just set before her. The porcelain clinked faintly against the saucer as Prudence sat down across from her, her expression calm but determined. Silas, her father, sat at the head of the table, drumming his fingers lightly on the wood.

Elias had gone to fetch their carriage, giving them a few moments alone. Lydia knew what was coming; the unease in her parents' manner was unmistakable.

"Lydia," her mother began, smoothing invisible wrinkles in her skirt. "Your father and I have been thinking."

"That's not new," Lydia said lightly, though her attempt at humor fell flat.

Prudence's lips pursed, but she pressed on. "Now that you've recovered and life has settled down, it's time you and Elias begin thinking about your future—about an heir."

Lydia's stomach dropped. She hadn't expected them to broach the subject so soon. Her fingers tightened on the edge of her napkin, but she kept her voice steady. "We've already discussed this, Mother. Elias and I aren't planning to have children."

Prudence blinked, as if she hadn't heard correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," Lydia said, her tone firmer this time. "It's not something we're going to do."

Her father leaned forward, his voice heavy with authority. "Lydia, this isn't a decision you can make lightly. You're a duchess now. Your duty is to continue the line."

"It's not a decision I made lightly," Lydia countered, her spine straightening. "Elias and I have considered it carefully. This is what we want."

Prudence's hand fluttered to her chest, as though Lydia's words had physically struck her. "You can't mean that," she whispered. "Every woman doubts at first, but in time?—"

"I'm not doubting," Lydia interrupted, her tone sharp enough to make her mother flinch. "This is my final decision."

Silas's face darkened. "You've always been a willful girl, Lydia, but this—this is reckless. Thoughtless."

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