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"You're humming," Elias observed, breaking into her reverie.

"Oh!" Lydia felt her cheeks warm. "I'm sorry. It's just... I'm rather excited about the ball. It's been so long since I've danced."

"Ah yes. Your promised dance with Nicholas."

Was it her imagination, or did his voice sound slightly strained?

"Among others, I hope," she said lightly. "Unless you plan to keep me hidden in a corner all evening?"

"Certainly not. You're the Duchess of Fyre. You may dance with whomever you please."

"Anyone?" Lydia asked innocently. "Even my husband?"

Elias's jaw tightened. "I don't dance."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Won't," he said firmly. "It's beneath my dignity."

Lydia bit back a smile. "Of course. How foolish of me to suggest the mighty Duke of Fyre might engage in something so frivolous as dancing with his wife."

Elias shot her a suspicious look, clearly trying to determine if she was mocking him. Lydia kept her expression perfectly innocent.

"You're doing it again," he said after a moment.

"Doing what?"

"That... thing. Where you make me sound ridiculous without actually saying anything improper."

Now Lydia did smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Your Grace. I would never suggest that a duke might actually enjoy himself at a ball. How scandalous that would be!"

Another of those almost-chuckles escaped him. "You're a very dangerous woman, Lydia Brandon."

"Blacknight," she corrected automatically. "I'm Lydia Blacknight now."

Something shifted in Elias's eyes at her words. For a moment, the air in the carriage seemed to grow thicker, charged with an awareness that made Lydia's pulse quicken.

Then a wheel hit a rough patch in the road, jolting them both. The moment passed, but Lydia could have sworn she saw a faint flush on Elias's cheeks as he turned back to the window.

"Tell me about Peter's herbs," he said abruptly. "He seems quite invested in the project."

Lydia let him change the subject, launching into an enthusiastic description of Peter's plans for the garden. She noticed how intently Elias listened, asking careful questions about their son's progress.

Their son. The thought made her heart flutter strangely.

"He's quite clever about it," she said, watching Elias's profile. "Did you know he's been researching which herbs might be profitable for the estate? He has all sorts of ideas about supplying the local apothecary."

"Does he?" Elias's voice was carefully neutral, but Lydia saw the pride that flickered in his eyes.

"Mmm. He wants to prove it's a worthwhile venture. Very practical, very... ducal of him, wouldn't you say?"

Elias's lips twitched. "You're doing it again."

"Simply making an observation, Your Grace. Though it occurs to me that a father-son business venture might be an excellent way to combine education with... what was it you said? Proper dignity?"

"You're incorrigible."

"So I've been told. Usually by my mother, typically while holding a ruined bonnet or a scandalized cat. Or worse, Mug."