Page 12 of Duke of Fyre

"He will not," Lydia interrupted firmly. "The Duke is not a beast, Jane. He's a man, with his own reasons for wanting to hasten the wedding. I'm sure he has his reasons."

As she spoke the words, Lydia lifted her chin bravely, despite the wicked racing of her heart. The Duke of Fyre was a mystery, one she was now more determined than ever to solve.

"Well," Jane said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "if you're determined to go through with this, we'd better make the most of your last week as a free woman, hadn't we?"

And so began a whirlwind of activity. The next few days passed in a blur of fittings and preparations, interspersed with moments of quiet panic that Lydia did her best to suppress. Her sisters were a constant presence, offering support and distraction in equal measure.

A few nights before her wedding, as Lydia lay awake in her childhood bed for the last time, she found herself reflecting on the journey that had brought her to this point.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself in the darkness. "I can be the duchess he needs, the mother that poor boy deserves. I can make this work."

CHAPTER 5

Lydia stood at her bedroom window, watching the empty driveway with a thin frown between her brows, her lips pursed. Two days. Just two days until her wedding, and the Duke of Fyre had yet to pay her a single visit since their initial meeting. She clenched her fists, willing herself to remain calm. A lady never lost her composure, after all.

One would think, she thought irritably, that the man would want to get to know the woman who was to be the mother of his child.

A sharp knock at the door startled her from her brooding. "Lydia," her mother's voice called, "are you decent? We must go over the final preparations."

Lydia sighed, smoothing down her skirts. "Come in, Mother."

Viscountess Prudence swept into the room, a whirlwind of purpose and barely contained anxiety. "There you are, child. Sit down, we have much to discuss."

As Lydia perched on the edge of her bed, her mother began to pace, ticking off items on her fingers. "Now, the flowers have been ordered, the cake is being prepared, and your gown is nearly finished. Have you practiced your vows? Remember, clear enunciation is key."

"Yes, Mother," Lydia replied dutifully. "I've practiced them every night."

Prudence nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, we must discuss your duties as a duchess. You'll be expected to host dinners, attend balls, and manage a large household. It's a great responsibility, Lydia. I do hope you're prepared for it."

Lydia straightened her spine, lifting her chin. "I am, Mother. I've been preparing for this my entire life."

Prudence flashed a thin smile before pursing her lips once more. "Yes, well. See that you don't disappoint. The Duke is a powerful man, and this match is crucial for our family's future."

Lydia felt a twinge of resentment at her mother's words. Had anything she'd ever done been good enough? But she pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"Mother," she began hesitantly, "the Duke... he hasn't called on me since our first meeting. Is that... normal?"

Prudence waved a dismissive hand. "Men of his station are very busy, Lydia. I'm sure he has many important matters to attend to. You mustn't bother him with trifles."

Lydia nodded, though the knot of anxiety in her stomach only tightened. How was she supposed to be a good wife to a man she barely knew?

As if sensing her daughter's unease, Prudence's expression softened slightly. "Lydia, my dear, I know this isn't the romantic match you might have dreamed of. But love... love isn't always necessary in a marriage. Respect, duty, these are far more important."

She paused, seeming to choose her next words carefully. "You may never feel love for the Duke, but you will love your children. That can be enough, if you allow it ."

Lydia swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden prick of tears. "Yes, Mother. I understand."

Prudence nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, there is one more matter we must discuss. Your... wedding night."

Lydia felt her face flame. "Oh! I... that is..."

"Come now, Lydia," Prudence chided. "You're to be a married woman. We must speak of these things."

Viscountess Prudence perched on the edge of Lydia's bed, her face a mask of discomfort. "So yes... ah... your wifely duties."

Lydia's eyes widened. "Wifely duties?"

"Yes, well..." Prudence coughed delicately. "You see, when a man and a woman love each other very much..."

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