Page 4

"Very well," the Viscount said, his tone final. "You may go."

Lydia rose on unsteady legs, curtsying to her parents before fleeing the oppressive confines of the drawing room. As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

"Lydia?" a small voice called. She looked up to see Diana, the youngest of her sisters, peering around the corner. "Are you alright? We heard raised voices."

Lydia managed a small smile, pushing away from the door and straightening her shoulders. "I'm fine, dearest. Come, let's find Marian and Jane. I have news to share."

As they climbed the stairs, Diana slipped her hand into Lydia's, squeezing it gently. The gesture, so simple and sincere, nearly undid Lydia's carefully maintained composure. She blinked back tears, grateful for her sister's quiet support.

They found Marian and Jane in Lydia's bedchamber, already huddled together on the bed with anxious expressions. As Lydia entered, they both leapt up, bombarding her with questions.

"What happened?"

"What did Mother and Father want?"

"Are you in trouble because of yesterday's incident in the park?"

Lydia held up a hand, silencing the barrage. "Peace, both of you. Let me sit down, and I'll explain everything."

As she sank onto the edge of the bed, Lydia felt a familiar weight settle on her lap. Mug, had sensed her distress and come to offer comfort. She scratched behind his ears, drawing strength from his steady presence.

"Well?" Marian prompted, her voice gentle. "What's happened, Lydia?"

Taking a deep breath, Lydia met her sisters' concerned gazes. "Mother and Father have found me a husband. I am to be married."

A chorus of gasps filled the room. Jane and Diana clutched at each other's hands, their eyes wide with apprehension. It was Jane who found her voice first.

"Married?" she repeated. "But to whom? Do we know him?"

Lydia shook her head. "They didn't say. Only that I am to meet him in three days' time."

"Oh, Lydia," Marian said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Are you alright? This must be such a shock."

Lydia managed a wan smile. "I'm fine. Really. It's... it's for the best, I'm sure. And perhaps now you three will have an easier time of it in society."

The sisters exchanged guilty glances. It was no secret that Lydia's prolonged spinsterhood had cast a pall over their ownsocial prospects. Still, the girls did not blame their elder sister one bit. In fact, Lydia was rather certain a part of them quite enjoyed still having her around and she smiled ruefully at the thought.

"Don't say that," Diana said, her voice small. "We don't blame you, Lydia. It's not your fault."

"Of course it is," Lydia replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. "If I had just been prettier, or wittier, or…"

"Stop it," Marian interrupted firmly. "You are perfect just as you are. And any man would be lucky to have you as his wife."

Lydia felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "I only hope my future husband feels the same way."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Lydia looked up to find her sisters exchanging nervous glances.

"What is it?" she asked, a sense of foreboding creeping over her. "Do you know something about my betrothed?"

Jane bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, "It's the Duke of Fyre!"

Lydia felt as though she'd been doused in ice water. "What?" she gasped. "How... how do you know that?"

The Duke of Fyre was a rather infamous recluse. Lydia had never seen the man before, but she had heard quite enough of him to be intimidated enough by the mere thought of him.

"We overheard Mother and Father talking," Marian admitted. "They didn't know we were listening."

"The Duke of Fyre," Lydia repeated, her mind reeling.. "But... but why would he want to marry me? I cannot imagine why… Why he would want to marry me..."