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"I do not scowl," Elias muttered, though his current expression rather belied that claim.

"Of course not, dear fellow. You merely look severely disapproving. Much more dignified." Nicholas turned back to Lydia with another charming smile. "I don't suppose you've managed to convince him about the Hartley s’ ball next week? The ton is positively dying to meet the woman who finally captured the Beast of Fyre."

"The Hartleys are having a ball?" Lydia's interest was immediately piqued. She hadn't attended a proper ball since her marriage, and the thought of music and dancing made her heart lift.

"We will not be attending," Elias said firmly.

"Oh, but surely—" Lydia began, then caught herself. "That is... it might be nice to meet some of our neighbors?"

"The finest families in the county will be there," Nicholas added helpfully. "And Lady Hartley throws the most magnificent balls. The music is always excellent."

"Do you dance, Lydia?" Peter asked eagerly. "Father never dances, but I've been learning from Miss Nancy. She says every gentleman should know how."

"I love to dance," Lydia admitted, then quickly added, "Though of course, I understand if His Grace has other commitments..."

"None that can't be rearranged," Nicholas interjected before Elias could respond. "After all, what's the point of having a lovely young duchess if you're going to keep her hidden away? People will talk, you know."

Elias's scowl deepened. "Let them talk."

Nicholas merely looked at Elias, who sighed at last.

"Very well," he said finally, though he still looked less than pleased. "We will attend. Briefly."

"Excellent!" Nicholas beamed. "Lady Hartley will be delighted. And speaking of dancing..." He turned to Lydia with another winning smile. "Perhaps you might save a set for me? I promise to be a more enthusiastic partner than our dear Duke."

"That would be lovely," Lydia agreed, then immediately wished she hadn't as she felt Elias's gaze burning into her.

"If you're quite finished arranging my wife's dance card," Elias bit out, "perhaps we might discuss the actual purpose of your visit?"

"Ah yes, business." Nicholas sighed dramatically. "How dreary. Though I must say, breakfast is far more entertaining than usual. I don't suppose I might impose upon your hospitality more often?"

The look Elias gave him could have frozen flame.

As the men withdrew to Elias's study, Lydia caught Nicholas winking at her. "Until next week, my lady. I look forward to our dance."

"As do I," she replied, pretending not to notice the way Elias's shoulders stiffened at her words.

Once they were gone, Peter turned to her with shining eyes. "Did you see, Lydia? Father said yes! We're really going to a ball!"

"So we are, darling." Lydia smiled, though her mind was already racing with preparations. "So we are."

As she helped Peter gather his garden plans before sending him off to his lessons, Lydia found herself humming a waltz under her breath. A ball! With music and dancing and perhaps... She remembered the intense way Elias had looked at her when she'd agreed to dance with Nicholas, and felt a curious flutter in her stomach.

Not that his obvious displeasure meant anything, of course. He was probably just concerned about maintaining proper dignity, as always. It certainly had nothing to do with jealousy.

But as she went about her morning tasks, Lydia couldn't quite suppress a small smile. The Beast of Fyre might not dance, but he certainly seemed to have strong opinions about who his wife danced with.

Not that she was planning to use that information, of course. That would be terribly undignified.

Though perhaps she might ask Nicholas for two dances, just to see what would happen...

Humming another waltz, Lydia headed upstairs to begin planning her ball gown. After all, if she was going to scandalize the ton by making the Duke of Fyre jealous, she ought to look her best while doing it.

Not that she was planning any such thing, of course.

But it was nice to have options.

A crash from the hallway interrupted Lydia's musings, followed by excited barking and the unmistakable sound of something expensive shattering.