Page 3 of Duke of Fyre

"Chance or not," her mother interrupted, "you've likely ruined what little prospect you had left of making a decent match. No gentleman of quality will want a wife who can't even control her own dog, let alone a household."

The words stung, but Lydia refused to let it show. She had long since grown accustomed to her mother's cutting remarks and constant disappointment.

"Yes, Mother," she said quietly. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll retire to my room for a bit. I have a bit of a headache coming on."

Without waiting for a response, Lydia hurried up the stairs, Mug trotting faithfully at her heels. Once safely ensconced in her bedchamber, she allowed herself to slump onto the window seat, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, Mug," she sighed, as the little dog hopped up beside her and nuzzled her arm. "What are we going to do? I'm beginning to think Mother's right. I'll never find a husband at this rate."

As if in response, Mug let out a soft whine and rested his head on her lap. Lydia smiled despite herself, scratching behind his ears.

"At least I'll always have you, my faithful friend," she murmured. "Even if you do have a penchant for causing trouble."

As the afternoon light faded into evening, Lydia found her thoughts returning, unbidden, to the man she had seen in the park. His cold eyes, his cutting words, the way he had dismissed her so easily... it all made her blood boil.

And yet, there was something about him that intrigued her, despite her better judgment. Perhaps it was the brief flash of... something... she had seen in his eyes. Or perhaps it was simply the challenge he represented.

Whatever it was, Lydia knew one thing for certain - she had never met a man quite like him before and she was certain thatshe never would again. Never before had a man managed to make her blood boil in such an absolutely frustrating manner. And never would a man do so again, she promised herself.

CHAPTER 2

"Lydia… Lydia, wake up!"

It was Marian's voice that broke through the confusing dreams of strangers in parks and Lydia blinked a few times to allow both her sisters to come into focus. Both Marian and Jane looked quite panicked, what with their furrowed brows and flushed cheeks.

"Father and mother want to see you," Jane got out at last. "They look… Oh, I don't know how they look, but it is important."

Within seconds, her sisters had her dressed and ready - and she moved down to the drawing room where she sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she faced her parents. Viscount Silas Brandon paced before the fireplace, his face set in stern lines, while her mother, Viscountess Prudence, perched on the edge of her chair, her lips pursed in disapproval.

"Lydia," her father began, his voice clipped, "your mother and I have come to a decision regarding your future."

Lydia's heart sank. She had known this day was coming, had dreaded it for months, but now that it was here, she found herself woefully unprepared.

"Yes, Father?" she managed, proud that her voice remained steady despite the churning in her stomach.

The Viscount ceased his pacing, fixing her with a hard stare. "We have found you a husband."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Lydia felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

"I... I see," she said faintly. "May I ask who-"

"You are in no position to ask questions, Lydia," her mother interjected sharply. "You should be grateful that any man of standing would consider you at all, given your... circumstances."

Lydia flinched at the barely veiled contempt in her mother's tone. At five and twenty, she was well past the age when most young ladies of her station were wed. Her continued spinsterhood was a source of constant shame for her parents and a black mark on the family's reputation.

"Your mother is right," her father added, his voice softening slightly. "We have done our best by you, Lydia. But your failureto secure a match has not only damaged your own prospects but those of your sisters as well. It's time you did your duty to this family."

Guilt washed over Lydia in a bitter wave. She thought of her younger sisters - Marian, Jane, and Diana - and how her own shortcomings had cast a shadow over their futures. She had no right to protest, not when so much was at stake.

"I understand, Father," she said quietly. "I will do as you wish."

A flicker of relief passed over her father's face. "Good. That's... good. The marriage contract will be drawn up within the week. You will meet your betrothed when he comes to call in three days' time."

"Three days?" Lydia echoed, startled. "But that's so soon. Surely-"

"Lydia," her mother cut in, her tone warning. "Do not test our patience. You will be ready to receive him, and you will comport yourself with the grace and decorum befitting your station. Is that understood?"

Lydia swallowed hard, forcing back the tide of questions and protests that threatened to spill from her lips. "Yes, Mother. Of course."

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