Page 49 of Duke of Fyre

The sound Elias made was half a laugh, quickly disguised as a cough. "You take far too much pleasure in tormenting me, madam."

"Only because you make it so entertaining, Your Grace."

Before Elias could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind them, one filled with surprised delight. "Lydia? Is it really you?"

Lydia turned and saw her sisters hurrying toward them, their dresses rustling with every step. Their parents followed at a slower, more dignified pace, their eyes wide with shock at the sight of Elias at Lydia's side.

"Jane! Marian! Diana!" Lydia started toward them, then caught herself, remembering her position. She glanced at Elias, who gave her a slight nod.

"Your Grace," her sisters curtsied in unison, their eyes darting between Lydia and Elias with barely concealed curiosity. Even Marian, usually the most composed, seemed unable to fully meet the Duke's gaze.

"My dear sisters," Lydia said warmly, maintaining proper dignity while her heart ached to embrace them. "May I presentmy husband, His Grace, the Duke of Fyre?" She turned to Elias. "Your Grace, these are my sisters - Lady Marian, Lady Jane, and Lady Diana."

"Your Grace," the girls murmured, dropping into deeper curtsies. Jane, ever the bold one, dared a quick glance up at him. "We're so pleased to finally meet you properly. Lydia's letters speak very highly of you."

"Do they indeed?" Elias's voice was cool, though Lydia caught the slight lift of his eyebrow.

"Oh yes!" Diana burst out, then immediately flushed at her own enthusiasm. "That is... we're so grateful for how kind you've been to our sister..."

"Diana. " Viscountess Prudence's sharp voice cut through the moment. "Remember yourself."

The girls withdrew slightly, though Jane managed to catch Lydia's hand and squeeze it quickly. "You look so well, sister. Marriage clearly agrees with you."

"Indeed," Marian added softly, her eyes warm with genuine affection. "Though we've missed you terribly. Haven't we, Mother?"

Viscountess Prudence forced a tight smile. "Of course, dear. Though naturally, we understand that Her Grace has... more important matters to attend to now."

Something in her tone made Lydia's spine stiffen, though she maintained her pleasant expression. "Actually, I was just thinking how lovely it would be to catch up properly. Won't you all join us for dinner tomorrow evening? We have so much to discuss."

Her parents exchanged panicked glances - clearly torn between their fear of the Duke and the social implications of refusing a duchess's invitation.

"Oh, please say yes!" Jane said eagerly, before her mother's sharp look silenced her.

"Of course, my dear," Viscountess Prudence finally managed, her voice slightly strained. "How... how kind of you to think of us."

"Wonderful," Lydia smiled, though she noticed how her family seemed to shrink away when Elias shifted his weight slightly. "Shall we say seven o'clock?"

"Perfect," her father said quickly, already beginning to guide his family away. "We... we look forward to it."

As they retreated, Lydia caught snippets of her sisters' whispered excitement - "Did you see how well she looks?" "But he's so tall!" "Do you think she's happy?" - before their mother shushed them firmly.

Lydia turned to Elias, her brow furrowed with exasperation and her lips pursed in a pout. "That wasn't necessary, you know. I'm quite used to their... reactions."

"Which is precisely the problem," Elias said, his voice low and hard. He stepped closer, turning toward her fully. "You are the Duchess of Fyre now, and it's time you started acting like it. Your own family treats you with barely concealed disdain, and you simply accept it."

"And you think I need to do that how, exactly?" she challenged, though her voice was soft.

"Stand up for yourself," Elias encouraged, but Lydia shook her head.

"And terrify my family like you seem to do to… well… some?"

"By demanding the respect you deserve." His blue eyes met hers, intense and unwavering. "If you won't put people in their place when they insult you, then I shall do it for you. I will not stand by and watch anyone treat my wife with disrespect—not even her own family."

Lydia felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks at his words. She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with the quiet force of his presence.

"You don't have to—" she began.

"Yes, I do." His voice was firm, resolute, and Lydia could see that nothing would make him back down. "You are my wife, the mistress of my home, the mother of my son. Anyone who forgets that will be swiftly reminded."

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