Page 56 of Duke of Fyre

"You've been staring at the same page for twenty minutes," Elias said suddenly, his voice cutting through her thoughts. There was something in his tone—amusement? Frustration? She couldn't quite tell.

Lydia jumped, her cheeks flushing. She hadn't realized he'd been watching her. "I'm simply... savoring the prose."

"Indeed?" Elias's voice was dry, skeptical. He set down his pen, giving her his full attention for the first time that day. "And what, pray tell, is this fascinating book about?"

Lydia glanced at the cover, as if it might provide her with the answer. The gilt letters seemed to mock her. "It's... about proper behavior. For ladies."

Elias's brow lifted, and something flickered in his eyes—a dangerous sort of amusement. "Is it indeed? And does it mention anything about proper behavior for duchesses who kiss their husbands in gardens?"

Lydia's breath caught in her throat. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she could feel the temperature in the carriage rise. Outside, clouds drifted across the sun, casting shifting shadows throughthe carriage windows. "I'm sure I wouldn't know. I haven't reached that chapter yet."

"Hmm." His voice dropped to something more intimate as his gaze met hers, and she could see the muscle working in his jaw. "Do let me know when you do. I find myself quite interested in the proper protocol for such situations."

Lydia didn't trust herself to speak. She could only manage a soft laugh, a nervous, self-conscious sound that she hated. The air between them thickened as she looked at him, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything more. Not now. Not after everything. Her fingers twisted in her lap, gripping the fabric of her dress.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. A bird called somewhere outside, and the steady rhythm of hooves on the road seemed to mock the racing of her heart. The morning light caught the silver at Elias's temples, and Lydia found herself remembering how soft his hair had felt under her fingers that night in the garden.

"Perhaps if you hadn't been so busy avoiding me, we might have discussed it already," Lydia muttered, her frustration bubbling over before she could stop herself. The words hung in the air between them, impossible to take back.

Elias's pen stilled. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. A muscle twitched in his cheek. "I have not been avoiding you."

"No?" Lydia's tone was sharp, her patience thinning. All the frustration of the past few days seemed to crystallize in this moment. "Then what would you call spending an entire day suddenly 'remembering urgent business' whenever I enter a room? Or taking your meals in your study? Or…"

"That's enough." His voice was tight, controlled.

"Is it? Because I rather think we haven't said enough. Not nearly enough." She could hear the tremor in her own voice, betraying her calm facade.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck visibly tightening. "I call it maintaining proper dignity while I..." He trailed off suddenly, the tension in his body palpable as he seemed to search for words.

"While you what?" Lydia demanded, her voice rising despite her efforts to keep it steady. "While you pretend nothing happened? While you convince yourself that one kiss means nothing? While you…"

"Lydia. It cannot. You need to understand. I had… an emotional moment, I was swept away. I do not want to give you a false impression of what… I don't…" He sighed deeply. "I don't want to hurt you," he said at last, his voice soft.

Lydia's breath caught in her throat. "Oh." The single syllable seemed inadequate for the storm of emotions his words had unleashed.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels. The atmosphere shifted, charged with unspoken emotion. Elias ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it slightly in a way that made Lydia's fingers itch to smooth it back into place. A shaft of sunlight caught his signet ring, sending brief flashes of light across the carriage's interior.

"This isn't..." he started, his voice low and rough, as if he was struggling to find the right words. His hands gripped his knees, knuckles white with tension. "This is supposed to be a marriage of convenience. Simple. Uncomplicated. And then you had to go and..."

"And what?" Lydia whispered, her voice a breath. She leaned forward slightly, drawn despite herself.

"And make me dream of a life… I had given up on long ago," he finished, his voice thick with frustration, regret, and something else Lydia couldn't name. Something that made her heart race and her breath catch.

Before she could respond, the carriage hit a particularly bad rut, sending her lurching forward. Elias's hands shot out to steady her, pulling her closer to him. His grip was firm on her shoulders, and for a moment, their faces were just inches apart. The air between them crackled with awareness, their breaths mingling, and Lydia could feel her heart race in her chest. His cologne filled her senses, that familiar scent that had haunted her dreams for days.

"We should..." Lydia's voice faltered, embarrassingly breathless. She could feel the warmth of his hands through the fabric of her dress, burning like brands against her skin.

"Yes," Elias agreed, though he didn't immediately release her. His hands lingered, his eyes dark with something that made her pulse race. "We should."

Their hands fell away from each other, and silence descended once more as the carriage continued its journey through the darkening countryside. Neither spoke again, each lost in their own thoughts, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them like a heavy curtain. Outside, the afternoon sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the rolling hills, while inside the carriage, two people sat in silence, each acutely aware of the other's presence and the growing impossibility of maintaining their careful charade of indifference.

CHAPTER 22

The sun was already setting when the carriage finally pulled into the long drive of Fyre Manor, painting the sky in shades of amber and deep rose. The autumn air had grown crisp as evening approached, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. Lydia watched through the window as the familiar silhouette of the house emerged from the twilight, its dark windows reflecting the last rays of sunlight like dozens of watchful eyes.

"Here we are," Elias spoke as Fyre Mansion came into view. "Home at last."

Lydia shifted slightly, excitement rising within her. "Oh, I do hope that Peter is still up," she said now, her eyes alight with joy. "I cannot wait to give him his gifts."

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