Page 16 of Duke of Fyre

At the word 'love,' Elias's expression hardened. "Love has no place in this arrangement, Nicholas. Love is weakness that I have not the time for."

Nicholas opened his mouth to argue, but something in Elias's eyes made him pause. He knew the pain his friend had endured, the betrayal that had left him so cold and guarded. Perhaps, he thought, this marriage could be a chance for healing, if only Elias would allow it.

"Very well," Nicholas said at last. "I can see your mind is made up. But promise me one thing, Elias."

"What's that?"

"Give her a chance," Nicholas said earnestly. "This Lady Lydia. Don't shut her out before you've even given her a chance to prove herself. Who knows? She might surprise you."

Elias's expression remained impassive, though he was quite certain Nicholas knew him well enough to not be fooled by it. "I'll... consider your words," Elias said finally.

Nicholas nodded, knowing it was the best he could hope for at the moment. "Good. Now, when exactly is this wedding taking place? And don't even think about not inviting me, or I shall create such a scandal the ton will be gossiping about it for years."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Elias's lips. "It's in three days' time. A small, private ceremony at the local church. You're welcome to attend, if you must."

"If I must?" Nicholas repeated, his usual good humor returning. "My dear Duke, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Someone needs to be there to make sure you don't scowl your way through the entire ceremony."

As Nicholas made to leave, the heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a small figure hesitating on the threshold. Peter Blacknight, all of ten years old, clutched a sheet of paper to his chest, his dark eyes wide as they darted between his father and the unexpected visitor.

"I... I'm sorry, Father," Peter stammered, shrinking back slightly. "I didn't know you had company."

Elias felt a familiar tightness in his chest at the sight of his son. The boy was the spitting image of his mother, with the same golden curls and delicate features. It was like looking at a ghost, a constant reminder of his failures.

"It's quite alright, Peter," Elias said, his voice stiffer than he intended. "What is it you need?"

Peter took a tentative step into the room, his gaze fixed on the carpet. "I... I wanted to show you something, Father. But it can wait if you're busy."

Nicholas, ever perceptive, stepped forward with a warm smile. "Nonsense, young man! I was just leaving. But I'd love to see what you've brought before I go."

Peter's eyes widened at this unexpected kindness from a stranger. He glanced at his father, seeking permission, and Elias gave a curt nod.

"Go on, then," Elias said, gesturing for Peter to approach.

With trembling hands, Peter unfolded the paper he'd been clutching. It was a drawing, painstakingly rendered in charcoal. Despite the childish execution, there was a clear talent evident in the bold lines and careful shading.

"It's... it's the view from my window," Peter explained softly. "Miss Nancy said I should practice drawing what I see."

Nicholas leaned in, examining the sketch with exaggerated interest. "Well, I must say, this is quite impressive! You have a real eye for detail, young man. Look here, Elias - see how he's captured the shadow of the old oak tree?"

Elias stepped closer, peering at the drawing over his son's shoulder. He was surprised to find that Nicholas was right. There was a certain... something in the sketch, a hint of real artistic promise.

"It's... very good, Peter," Elias said, the words feeling awkward and inadequate on his tongue. He wanted to say more, to express the pride that was welling up inside him, but the right words eluded him and he swallowed with difficulty. Not for the first time, Elias inwardly chastised himself for being so inept at connecting with his son.

Peter's face lit up at the praise, a tentative smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Really, Father? You like it?"

"Of course he does!" Nicholas interjected, ruffling Peter's hair affectionately. "Your father may not say much, but I can see it in his eyes. He's proud of you, lad."

Elias shot Nicholas a sharp look, but his friend merely grinned unrepentantly.

"Thank you, sir," Peter said shyly, ducking his head. "I... I'm glad you like it, Father."

There was a moment of awkward silence, heavy with unspoken words. Elias cleared his throat, searching for something to say. "You should... keep practicing," he managed finally. "Drawing is a valuable skill for a young gentleman."

Peter's smile faltered slightly, but he nodded dutifully. "Yes, Father. I will."

Nicholas, sensing the tension, clapped his hands together. "Well, I really must be going. It was a pleasure to meet you, Peter. Keep up the excellent work!"

As Nicholas made his way to the door, he paused beside Elias, speaking in a low voice meant only for his friend's ears. "Talk to him, Elias. He's reaching out to you. Don't push him away."

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