Page 83 of Duke of Fyre

Peter reached her next, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he buried his face in her shoulder. Lydia managed to hold both boy and dog, though tears prickled at her eyes as Peter's small body trembled against her.

"I thought you left us," Peter whispered, his voice muffled. "I thought… you weren't coming back."

Lydia's chest tightened, and she kissed the top of his head. "Oh, Peter," she murmured. "I would never leave you. Never. I missed you so much."

Elias crouched beside them, his presence grounding as he placed a hand on Peter's back and gently ruffled Mug's fur. "See?" Elias said softly to Peter. "Lydia's here. She's not going anywhere."

Peter pulled back just enough to look at her, his tear-streaked face breaking Lydia's heart. "Really?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

"Really," Lydia said, cupping his cheek. "I'm home now. And I'm staying right here, with you, your father, and Mug. We're a family, Peter. And I love you."

Peter sniffled but managed a small smile, his arms tightening around her once more. Mug gave a little bark of agreement, wiggling in her arms before darting up to lick Peter's face. Theboy laughed through his tears, and Lydia felt her own tension easing at the sound.

Elias smiled faintly, standing and lifting Peter into his arms with ease. He rested one arm around Lydia's shoulders, pulling her close. "Come on," he said, his voice warm. "Let's go inside."

With Peter still clinging to him and Lydia holding Mug, Elias guided them back toward the manor. Peter rested his head against Elias's shoulder, his small fingers clutching at his father's jacket as though afraid he might let go. Mug, meanwhile, nestled comfortably in Lydia's arms, his tail swishing in lazy contentment.

As they stepped through the front doors, the warmth and familiarity of the house embraced them. Mrs. Potts appeared almost immediately, her apron slightly askew as she hurried forward.

"Welcome home, Your Graces," she said with a relieved smile, her kind eyes flicking to Lydia. "Dinner is nearly ready."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," Lydia said, her voice steady despite the emotions still swirling in her chest.

Peter squirmed in Elias's arms, clearly more at ease now, though he glanced back at Lydia with wide eyes. "You're really staying?" he asked, his tone still holding a hint of worry.

"I'm really staying," Lydia said, stepping closer to place a hand on his back. "You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."

Peter giggled, the sound light and pure, and Elias gave her a look of such quiet gratitude that it nearly stole her breath. He shifted Peter to his other arm and extended his free hand to Lydia.

She took it without hesitation, their fingers interlacing naturally. With Mug now perched on one arm and Peter resting on the other, Lydia felt a profound sense of belonging. As they walked deeper into the manor, the noise of daily life surrounded them—the clatter of dishes, the distant hum of conversation, the soft creak of floorboards—and for the first time, Lydia felt she had truly come home.

EPILOGUE

Two months had passed since Lydia had stood firm against her parents –but it was also two months since she'd realized that love was far more important than anything else, two months since she had admitted to her husband that she loved him and he had told her that he loved her too. Since then, the rhythm of life at Fyre Manor had steadied, and Lydia had begun to feel the kind of peace she had never thought possible. Yet today was a special day—she, Elias, and Peter were in London, a rare venture into the bustling heart of society.

The green of Hyde Park spread out before them, the spring air light and fragrant. A checkered picnic blanket lay under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, laden with a simple yet elegant array of sandwiches, fruits, and cakes. Peter darted around the tree, his laughter ringing through the air as Mug raced alongside him, yipping enthusiastically. Lydia sat on the blanket, her skirts arranged neatly, while Elias leaned back on his hands, watching their son with a rare, unguarded smile.

"He's happy," Lydia observed, her voice quiet.

Elias nodded, his gaze following Peter's energetic movements. "He's thriving. He has you to thank for that."

"And you," Lydia said, turning toward him. "You've given him something I never thought possible—a family."

Elias reached out and took her hand, his touch warm and grounding. "We've given it to him together."

The moment was interrupted by a polite cough. Lydia looked up to see an older couple approaching, their steps careful but purposeful. The gentleman, with neatly combed white hair and a cane, offered a genial smile, while his wife adjusted her bonnet, her face bright with curiosity.

Then their eyes landed on Peter, who had paused his play to regard the newcomers with open interest. "And who might this fine young man be?"

Peter stepped forward, clutching Mug's leash as the little dog wagged its tail. "I'm Peter," he said, his voice clear and confident. "And this is Mug."

Lydia rose gracefully, smoothing her skirts as she stepped forward. "Lord and Lady Whitmore," she said warmly, extending her hand. "How lovely to see you again."

"Lydia!" Lady Whitmore exclaimed, her face lighting up. "It's been far too long. And I see you've brought your family. What a handsome boy!"

Lydia glanced back at Elias, who had stood and now joined them. "Lord and Lady Whitmore," she said, gesturing toward him, "may I introduce my husband, Elias, the Duke of Fyre."

The Whitmores exchanged quick glances, their expressions showing the mild surprise of meeting the elusive Duke. Yet their smiles never faltered.

---