Page 31 of Duke of Fyre

"The rooms look wonderful," Miss Nancy commented later, finding Lydia adjusting a vase of fresh roses. "Though I must admit, I worried about such dramatic changes."

"They're hardly dramatic," Lydia protested. "Just a bit of light and color. Besides," she added with a small smile, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"His Grace might actually smile when he returns," Miss Nancy said dryly, causing Lydia to laugh despite herself.

"Now that would be dramatic indeed," she agreed, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered at the thought of Elias's return.

The days began to develop a pleasant rhythm. Mornings were spent with Peter at his lessons, afternoons devoted to theirpromised hour of play (which sometimes stretched to two when Miss Nancy wasn't watching too closely), and evenings occupied with household management and correspondence.

Yet Lydia couldn't help but notice how often her thoughts strayed to Elias. She found herself wondering what he would think of the changes she'd made, if he would notice the way Peter seemed to stand taller in the brighter rooms, if he would appreciate the fresh flowers she'd taken to placing in his study.

"You're being ridiculous," she told herself firmly one evening as she prepared for bed. "He's only been gone a week. There's no reason to miss him."

But miss him she did, with an intensity that both surprised and alarmed her. She missed his commanding presence, his dry observations, even his occasional scowls when Mug got too exuberant in the gardens. The manor felt emptier without his measured footsteps in the corridors, quieter without his deep voice carrying from his study.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered to herself as she lay in bed, listening to the unfamiliar creaks and groans of the old house. She wasn't supposed to miss him. She wasn't supposed to care whether he smiled or frowned at her changes. She certainly wasn't supposed to feel this strange ache in her chest when she thought of him.

This was a marriage of convenience, after all. Nothing more.

CHAPTER 13

It was strange, Lydia thought as she sat at her desk in the morning room, reviewing household accounts. Her head snapped up when a familiar scratching at the door caught her attention.

"Come in, Mug," she called, smiling as the little dog trotted in, followed by a slightly disheveled Peter. "And good morning to you too, darling. You're up early."

"I couldn't sleep," Peter admitted, dropping into a nearby chair. "I was thinking about the story you were telling me yesterday, about the knight and the dragon. Does the knight really manage to befriend the dragon in the end?"

"Well," Lydia said, setting aside her ledgers, "that rather depends on whether the knight is clever enough to realize that not all dragons need to be slain. Sometimes the fiercest creatures simply need to be understood."

Peter's brow furrowed in thought. "Like how everyone was afraid of Mug at first because he barked so much, but really he just wanted to make friends?"

"Exactly like that," Lydia agreed, watching as the dog in question curled up contentedly at Peter's feet. "Speaking of friends, I noticed you've been spending quite a bit of time with young Thomas from the village. The gardener's son?"

A flush crept up Peter's neck. "He's been teaching me about the different plants in the kitchen garden. Did you know that some flowers are actually edible? And that certain herbs can help when you're feeling ill?"

"Is that so?" Lydia said, hiding a smile at his enthusiasm. "Perhaps we should ask Mrs. Winters if we might start a small herb garden of our own. Something you could tend to during your free hour?"

Peter's eyes lit up. "Could we really? Father wouldn't mind?"

"I don't see why he would object to his son learning about useful plants," Lydia said carefully. "Especially since such knowledge could be valuable for managing the estate one day."

"You're very clever," Peter observed, giving her a knowing look. "You always know just how to explain things so Father won't disapprove."

Lydia felt her cheeks warm. "I simply try to see all sides of a situation. Now, shall we go down to breakfast? I believe Cook mentioned something about raspberry preserves this morning."

As they made their way to the breakfast room, Peter chattered hesitantly about his plans for the herb garden. Lydia could not help but smile as he spoke, her eyes finding his. He was eager and caring – and with his father gone, it seemed, the boy was far more open. For the first time, he spoke without being spoken to and though his voice was still soft and hesitant, she could see a twinkle in his eye that she had not noticed before.

"Your Grace," Mrs. Winters approached as they finished their meal. "The new linens have arrived from London. Would you like to inspect them?"

"Yes, thank you," Lydia said, rising from the table. "Peter, why don't you go start your lessons? I'll join you later for our history discussion."

But Peter had already jumped up, eyes bright with interest. "Could I help? I promise I won't get in the way. I just want to see how everything works."

Lydia exchanged glances with Mrs. Winters, who gave a small nod. "Very well," she agreed. "A future duke should understand all aspects of household management, shouldn't he?"

They spent the next hour examining fine linens and discussing thread counts, with Peter asking surprisingly astute questions about cost and durability. Mrs. Winters, initially hesitant abouthaving a child involved in such matters, gradually warmed to his genuine interest.

"You have quite an eye for quality, Master Peter," she praised when he correctly identified the finest set of sheets. "Your father will be pleased to know you're taking an interest in household matters."

---