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Something shifted in Elias's expression - a softening around his eyes, a slight easing of the tension in his jaw. "I would like that," he said quietly.

Lydia busied herself with her soup, pretending not to notice the way Peter was practically bouncing in his chair with excitement.Or the way Elias's gaze kept returning to her face, as if trying to solve some particularly vexing puzzle.

After dinner, true to his word, Elias accompanied them to the library. Peter proudly displayed his latest artwork, including several detailed sketches of the gardens and one particularly charming portrait of Mug attempting to chase butterflies.

"Your technique has improved considerably," Elias observed, studying the drawings with genuine interest. "The perspective in this garden scene is particularly well-executed."

Peter beamed at the praise, then hesitated before pulling out one final drawing. "I... I made this one especially for you, Father. While you were away."

Lydia watched as Elias carefully unfolded the paper. It was a family portrait - not a formal, stuffy piece, but a scene from one of their afternoon adventures. Peter had captured himself and Lydia in the garden, playing their pirate games, while Elias stood in the background, watching with what might have been the ghost of a smile.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch for an eternity. Peter's fingers twisted anxiously in his jacket, and Lydia found herself holding her breath.

Finally, Elias spoke, his voice rougher than usual. "You've captured the light beautifully," he said softly. "The way it falls across the garden... it's exactly right."

"Really?" Peter's whole face transformed with joy. "I worked especially hard on that part. Lydia helped me understand how to show the shadows properly."

Elias's eyes met Lydia's over their son's head, and she felt that same jolt of awareness she'd experienced in her sitting room earlier. There was something in his gaze - gratitude, perhaps, or understanding - that made her chest feel suddenly too tight.

"Perhaps," Elias said slowly, still holding her gaze, "we might have this framed? It would look well in my study, I think."

Peter launched himself at his father, forgetting propriety in his excitement. For a moment, Elias stiffened, clearly startled by the embrace. Then, slowly, carefully, his arms came up to wrap around his son.

Lydia turned away, feeling like an intruder on this precious moment. But before she could slip quietly from the room, Elias's voice stopped her.

"Stay," he said quietly. "Please."

That word again - so simple, yet coming from him, it felt like a gift. Or perhaps a promise.

Later, after Peter had been sent to bed (but not before extracting a promise from his father to join them for breakfast the next morning), Lydia found herself alone with Elias in the library.The silence between them felt different now - charged with something she wasn't quite ready to name.

"The changes you've made," Elias said finally, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace. "They're good for him. For the house." A muscle jumped in his jaw and a frown appeared between his brows. "I suppose I should thank you," he said, his voice cold again.

Lydia's heart did that strange flutter again. "It's quite alright," she said softly. "Though I am sorry about the portrait. I should have asked first."

Elias shook his head. "No, I… It is fine, keep it. Where it is. Peter should know his mother's face, even if..." He trailed off, the stoic mask back again.

Without thinking, Lydia moved closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Even if the memories are difficult?"

He nodded, still not looking at her. "I suppose. I was trying to protect the boy. I see now that it may not have gone over in that manner."

"Oh, Elias." The words slipped out before she could stop them, filled with a tenderness that surprised them both.

He turned to her then, his eyes dark with some emotion she couldn't quite read. For a moment, she thought he might saymore, might finally let her see behind the walls he'd built so carefully around his heart.

But the clock struck nine, breaking the spell. Elias stepped back, though something in his expression had shifted, softened.

"Goodnight, Lydia," he said, her name like a caress on his lips.

"Goodnight... Elias."

As she made her way to her chambers, Lydia found herself smiling. Perhaps change wasn't always so terrifying after all. Even for the mighty Duke of Fyre.

CHAPTER 15

The morning light streamed through the newly lightened breakfast room curtains, casting a warm glow over the carefully set table. Lydia smoothed her skirts for the third time, acutely aware of the empty chairs that would soon be filled. Her hand trembled slightly as she adjusted a fork that was already perfectly aligned.

"Your Grace?" Mrs. Winters appeared in the doorway. "Master Peter is asking if he might come down now, though it's a quarter hour early..."