Page 43

This time the sound that escaped Elias was definitely a laugh, however quickly suppressed. Lydia felt absurdly proud of herself.

The carriage hit another bump, causing Lydia to grab the side for balance. Without thinking, Elias reached out to steady her, his large hand warm on her arm.

"These roads are abysmal," he muttered, though he didn't immediately remove his hand. "We should have taken the other route."

"And miss the lovely view of the countryside? Never." Lydia smiled, keenly aware of his touch. "Though I must say, your concern for my welfare is touching, Your Grace."

Elias withdrew his hand as if burned, but Lydia caught the faint color in his cheeks. "It would hardly do for the Duchess of Fyre to arrive at her first society event with bruises from poor road maintenance."

"Of course not. What would people say?" She affected her best impression of a scandalized dowager. "'Did you hear about the new Duchess of Fyre? Covered in bruises! I heard she's been wrestling bears in that gothic mansion of theirs.'"

"Bears?" Elias's eyebrow rose. "Surely dragons would be more appropriate, given the circumstances."

Lydia's heart gave a little leap at his playing along. "Oh, but dragons are so last season. Besides, Peter has them all thoroughly charmed with his stories. We had to move on to bears for entertainment."

"Is that what you and Peter do all day? Plan mythological menageries?"

"Only on Tuesdays. Mondays are for pirate adventures, Wednesdays for knight's quests, Thursdays for?—"

"I begin to understand why Mrs. Winters looks so harried lately," Elias interrupted, though Lydia could have sworn she saw his lips twitch.

"Mrs. Winters," Lydia said with dignity, "is secretly delighted by all the excitement. Just yesterday I caught her teaching Mug to fetch her sewing basket."

"Did she succeed?"

"Well, he did fetch something. Though it might have been one of Cook's chickens. The details are still rather unclear, and everyone involved has sworn themselves to secrecy."

This time Elias didn't quite manage to suppress his smile. "You've turned my entire household upside down, haven't you?"

"Not entirely," Lydia said thoughtfully. "The attic is still perfectly respectable. Though give Peter time – he has plans for a proper pirate's lookout up there."

"Absolutely not."

"That's exactly what my mother said about the tree house. She was quite adamant until Papa pointed out that it would keep us from climbing the actual trees." Lydia paused. "In retrospect, he might have regretted that strategy when Jane decided the tree house needed a pulley we could slide down ."

"Do I want to know what happened?"

"Let's just say that Mother's prized rosebushes were never quite the same, and Jane still can't look at a clothesline without wincing."

Elias shook his head, but his eyes were warm with amusement. "I suppose I should be grateful Peter's adventures are somewhat more... contained."

"For now," Lydia agreed cheerfully. "Though he did mention something about building a moat around the herb garden..."

"Lydia."

"Only a small one! And think how educational it would be – he'd learn about water management, castle defenses..."

"We are not building a moat."

"No, of course not." Lydia waited a beat. "A drawbridge would be much more practical."

Elias turned to her then, clearly intending to deliver a stern rebuke, but something in her expression made him pause. Their eyes met, and suddenly the air in the carriage felt charged with awareness.

"You're quite impossible, you know," he said softly.

"So I've been told." Lydia's voice came out equally quiet. "Though I prefer to think of it as... creatively optimistic."

"Is that what we're calling it now?"