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Lydia smiled, remembering the boy's excitement the night before. "Of course he may. Heaven knows we wouldn't want him wearing a hole in his carpet with all his pacing."

Moments later, Peter appeared, dressed with particular care in his best morning coat. His golden curls had been ruthlessly tamed, and Lydia noticed he was wearing the cravat she'd helped him practice tying last week.

"Good morning, darling," she said warmly. "You look very handsome."

Peter beamed, then quickly tried to school his features into something more dignified. "Good morning, Lydia. I trust you slept well?"

The formal words in his child's voice made her heart squeeze. "Quite well, thank you. Though I suspect not as well as Mug – I found him sprawled across half my bed this morning, if you can believe it."

Peter giggled, then glanced anxiously at the door. "Do you think Father will really come? He's usually already in his study by now..."

"He gave his word, didn't he?" Lydia kept her voice light, though she shared some of Peter's uncertainty. "And a duke's word is his bond, or so I'm told."

As if summoned by their discussion, Elias appeared in the doorway. He too was dressed with particular care, his dark coat emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. Lydia found herself remembering how those shoulders had looked the day before, when he'd loomed over her during their argument, and felt heat rise to her cheeks.

"Good morning, Father!" Peter's voice was pitched slightly higher than usual with barely contained excitement.

"Good morning, Peter." Elias's voice was grave, but Lydia detected a softness in his eyes as he regarded his son. "You're up early."

"Yes, sir. I... I wanted to be sure I wasn't late."

Something flickered across Elias's face – regret, perhaps? – before he turned to Lydia. "Good morning, my lady."

"Your Grace." Lydia dipped into a small curtsy, focused on his presence as he moved to his seat at the head of the table. The room suddenly felt much smaller.

An awkward silence fell as they began their meal. Peter kept darting hopeful glances between his parents, clearly wanting to speak but unsure if he should. Lydia's throat felt tight every time she looked at Elias, remembering the warmth of his hands on hers, that softly spoken "please" that had undone her so completely.

"Peter," she said finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, "why don't you tell your father about your plans for the herb garden? I'm sure he'd be interested in your ideas for improving the estate."

Peter brightened immediately. "Oh! Yes, well, Thomas – that's the gardener's son, Father – he's been teaching me about different medicinal herbs. Did you know that lavender can help you sleep? And peppermint is good for digestion?"

"Is that so?" Elias's voice was neutral, but Lydia saw how intently he watched his son's animated face.

"Yes! And I thought, well..." Peter faltered slightly, then gathered his courage. "I thought perhaps we might set aside a small plot? Near the kitchen garden? Thomas says the soil there is perfect for herbs, and it would be practical, wouldn't it? Having our own supply?"

Lydia held her breath, watching Elias carefully. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded. "A sound proposal. Well-reasoned and practical, as you say. Perhaps you might draw up a plan? Something we could review together?"

The joy that blazed across Peter's face was like sunrise breaking through clouds. "Really? You mean it? I'll start right after breakfast! I already have some ideas sketched out, and Thomas said?—"

A knock at the door interrupted Peter's excited chatter. Seconds later, Nicholas Grant swept into the room, his usual good humor lighting his handsome features.

"Good morning, all! I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important?"

"Uncle Nicholas!" Peter jumped up to greet his father's friend, then quickly remembered his manners and attempted to bow instead.

Nicholas laughed, ruffling the boy's carefully arranged curls. "None of that now, young man. I've known you since you were in leading strings." His eyes fell on Lydia, and he executed an elegant bow. "And this must be the new Duchess of Fyre! My dear lady, I've been dying to meet you properly."

"Lord Stone," Lydia rose to curtsy, charmed despite herself by his easy manner. "We're honored by your visit."

"Nicholas, please," he insisted, taking the seat Mrs. Winters hastily arranged for him. "I've heard so much about you from our mutual friends in town. They say you're working miracles here at Fyre Manor."

"Hardly miracles," Lydia demurred, though she couldn't help smiling at his infectious warmth. "Just a few small changes."

"Small changes indeed," Nicholas's eyes twinkled as he glanced around the sun-filled room. "Why, I hardly recognized the place! It's as if someone finally remembered to let the light in."

Lydia laughed at his theatrical wink, then stopped abruptly as she felt the temperature in the room seem to drop several degrees. She glanced at Elias and found him glaring at his friend with surprising intensity.

If Nicholas noticed his friend's dark look, he gave no sign. "I must say, it's delightful to see the family gathered for breakfast. Usually, our dear Duke is buried in his study by now, scowling at his correspondence as if it had personally offended him."