Page 38 of Duke of Chaos

“Well, not that it is,” Duncan stammered, looking worried, “we were just curious if…”

“And tell me, dear brother-in-law,” Lydia cut him off, “How quickly did you and my sister have children after you were married? I seem to remember it taking you well over a year to produce one, did it not?”

Color flooded into Duncan’s face, as well as Morgan and Ambrose’s, as the three of them grew quietly uncomfortable. Ezra had to muster all of his self-control to keep himself from grinning wildly.

“I thought you were the best-mannered out of all of them,” Morgan said bitterly, throwing Lydia an embarrassed look.

Lydia smiled sweetly as she finished changing the dressing on Ezra’s wounded hand, then turned to Morgan.

“I assure you that I am, Your Grace, but I am also the most ruthless. Do remember that when you make your little jests.”

Pride and approval enveloped Ezra as he watched Lydia rise from her seat and curtsy gracefully toward his friends.

“I believe I should be getting back to your wives now,” she said, continuing her sweet tone, “Perhaps, if I am feeling magnanimous, I shall refrain from telling them what exactly it was the four of you were discussing. A wick-dipping tour, was it not?”

Ambrose’s face paled considerably as Duncan suddenly turned an enraged look toward Morgan and threw a punch into his arm.

“Lydia, you must believe me, I had no part in this,” Duncan argued vehemently, turning back to her with wide eyes.

“Nor did I,” Ambrose added with equal desperation, “You know Barbara is not above murdering me for such an indiscretion, and you are equally aware that she’s wily enough to get away with it.”

“So, what I should be hearing is…” Lydia let her words trail off as she leaned an ear toward them and motioned for them to speak.

“Apologies, my lady,” the three men replied in unison.

“Very good,” Lydia praised in a condescending tone.

Once gone, Ezra’s three friends turned from the door and back to him, their faces pale.

“Jesus, mate, she is scary,” Morgan stated, slowly shaking his head.

“Was she always like that?” Duncan asked, looking at the door as if she might suddenly reappear.

Ezra didn’t respond as he watched each of his friends gradually pick up their bruised dignity and turn their conversation toward other topics. Eventually, he also found himself involved in their discussions in his usual quiet, monosyllabic way. But, as the jokes and jests resumed, Ezra could not help but think back to Lydia and the unflappable strength she so obviously possessed.

“Useless,” Lydia heard Ezra mutter as she opened the door to his study, “Utterly, unbelievably useless.”

Lydia cracked open the door a little more to peek inside and caught Ezra flinging a pen and then an inkwell at the wall. She flinched a little as she heard the glass shatter, but she gathered herself and strode in.

“Is this a new style of writing?” she asked, nodding her head toward the mess on the wall as she kept her eyes on him, “If so it looks quite enjoyable, and I should like to try.”

Though Ezra glared at her, she saw the tiniest spark of humor ignite in his eyes.

“Unless you are here to assist me I suggest you leave,” he said gruffly.

He was in no mood to play with her today; despite knowing the pleasure it always brought him. He was too annoyed with his injured hand, and the fact that they had not yet found his assailant.

“Then I suppose it is good that I am here to assist,” Lydia replied matter-of-factly, unfazed by his foul mood.

He watched her quietly as she gathered a new pen and a fresh inkwell from his cabinet before taking a seat on the opposite side of his desk.

“You cannot help,” he stated when she looked at up him expectantly.

“I do not see why not,” Lydia countered.

Ezra glared at her. Lydia had access to his accounts, yes, but only what he allowed Mr. Porter to show her. The issues he presently needed to address were of a different nature. These were in respect of the longstanding accounts that had belonged to his father, which he had slowly been balancing throughout the years since his death. He knew Lydia was aware of his late father’s debts; it was no secret, but he still did not want to show her the evidence.

“If I punish you would you still wish to see then?” he quipped back.

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