Page 9 of Duke of Fyre

"Your Grace!" she called, catching up to him at the door. "Won't you stay for tea?"

The Duke paused, his hand on the door handle. He turned to look at her, Lydia coldly. "I think not, Lady Lydia," he said, his voice low. "I have pressing business to attend to. Good evening."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Lydia standing alone in the foyer, her head spinning with all that had transpired. She pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth that lingered there

As she made her way back to the drawing room, where her parents no doubt waited with bated breath, Lydia couldn't shake the feeling that she had just agreed to something far more complicated than a simple marriage of convenience.

The Duke of Fyre was a mystery, a man shrouded in rumors and darkness. And now, she was to be his wife, the mother to his child. It was a daunting prospect, to say the least.

But as Lydia thought of the motherless boy waiting at Fyre Manor, she felt a surge of determination. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever secrets the Duke might be hiding, she would face them with courage and grace. For the sake of the child, if nothing else.

CHAPTER 4

With a deep breath, Lydia squared her shoulders and pushed open the drawing room door, ready to face her parents and the future that awaited her as the soon-to-be Duchess of Fyre.

"Well?" her mother demanded the moment Lydia entered the room. "What did he say? Is the engagement settled?"

Lydia nodded, still feeling slightly dazed. "Yes, Mother. We are to be married in a fortnight."

Her father let out a sigh of relief, while her mother clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, Lydia! This is wonderful news. Just think - our daughter, a duchess!"

But Lydia hardly heard their excited chatter. Her mind was still reeling from the Duke's revelation and the unexpected intensity of their interaction. A son. A child who needed a mother. It changed everything, and yet... perhaps it changed nothing at all.

As she excused herself and made her way back to her bedchamber, Lydia found Mug waiting for her, his tail wagging tentatively. She scooped him up, burying her face in his soft fur.

"Oh, Mug," she whispered. "What have I gotten myself into?"

The little dog licked her cheek, as if to say, "Whatever it is, we'll face it together." And for the first time that day, Lydia felt a genuine smile tug at her lips.

She moved to the window, gazing out at the darkening sky. In the distance, she could just make out the Duke's carriage disappearing down the lane. Her heart fluttered strangely at the memory of his piercing gaze, the subtle hints of vulnerability she'd glimpsed beneath his stern exterior.

Whatever the future held, whatever challenges lay ahead at Fyre Manor, she would meet them . She was to be a duchess, a wife, and most importantly, a mother. It was not the future she had envisioned for herself, but perhaps... perhaps it could be something even better.

With that thought to comfort her, Lydia began to prepare for bed, her mind already turning to the preparations that would need to be made for her impending nuptials and the new life that awaited her as the Duchess of Fyre. And if, as she drifted off to sleep, her dreams were filled with stormy blue eyes and the faint scent of sandalwood, well... that was her secret to keep.

The carriage rattled over London's cobblestone streets, carrying Lydia and her three sisters towards Madame Hughes'srenowned modiste shop. Despite the excitement of shopping for a wedding gown, a tense silence permeated the air.

Lydia glanced at her sisters' worried faces. Marian, the eldest after Lydia, sat rigidly, while twins Jane and Diana exchanged nervous looks.

"Really, now," Lydia said, injecting cheerfulness into her voice. "Why such gloomy expressions? This is meant to be a joyous occasion!"

Jane, always outspoken, burst out, "Joyous? Lydia, you're marrying the Beast of Fyre!"

"Jane!" Marian hissed, eyeing the carriage driver warily.

Lydia sighed, patting Jane's hand. "Don't believe everything in gossip sheets, dear one. I'm certain the Duke is a perfect gentleman."

"But Lydia," Diana whispered, "the stories we've heard... They say he never leaves his estate, that he's horribly scarred, or... or worse."

"Nonsense," Lydia said firmly. "I've met the Duke, remember? He's perfectly normal. Handsome, even, in a... stern sort of way."

Her sisters remained unconvinced as the carriage halted outside Madame Hughes's shop. Lydia took a deep breath, steelingherself. This was more than just dress shopping - it was the first step towards her new life as a duchess.

The shop's bell tinkled as they entered. Madame Hughes hurried forward, exclaiming, "Ah, the future Duchess of Fyre! Come, we must create a gown fit for royalty!"

As Lydia was whisked away for measurements, her sisters settled onto a plush settee, their worried whispers barely audible over rustling fabric.

"I cannot believe she's going through with this," Jane muttered.

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