Page 13 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)
Chapter Eleven
L ydia awoke the next morning and turned over in her bed. It was the first morning that she hadn’t awoken with Iris gently prodding at her face, and she found that she missed it.
“It’s only a few days Lydia, and Juliet needs new dresses for her season next year. And it will be good for Iris to see a bit of London,” Lydia tried to tell herself, but she could not help but feel lonely at their absence.
“I suppose I should be relieved. Goodness knows how messy things would have gotten if they had been around for Land’s visit.” She clenched her fist. “How can he have been so stupid?”
And why is it he only cares about me when he wants something?
There was a knock at the door, and her lady’s maid appeared carrying breakfast. She helped Lydia get dressed and then departed. Lydia sighed and helped herself to a croissant, her eyes falling on the ugly chair by the fire.
Thank you. Thank you so much, Lydia. Before she knew what she was doing, she had hurled one of the heavy books at the chair. It landed with a satisfying thump.
You should not have had to sacrifice. The Duke’s voice echoed in her head. How was it that he saw what she had done, but her own brother either did not see it or did not care?
She was working herself up into a frenzy.
“This cannot be my life!” she shouted at the walls and drove her fist into the chair.
She tore at the fabric with her hands, hearing the satisfying rip as she pulled it apart. “Stupid. Stupid. Not fair!”
She let out a stream of curses as she grabbed the fire poker and began to smash it into the chair over and over.
Archer heard the sound of his wife’s curses and rushed into her room. All thought was driven from his mind until he saw her beating his mother’s chair with a fire poker and cursing like a sailor.
“What are you doing?” Archer asked over the sound of splintering fabric and wood.
Lydia stopped abruptly, looking at him as she panted hard. “—um… redecorating?”
“A rather unusual approach.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I was frustrated. And this seems to be rather a good way of letting it out.” She gestured around her, still breathing hard.
“And what exactly has got you this frustrated?” Archer canted his head towards her. “It can’t have been me. I’ve barely seen you today. And no one else is at home. Has a servant caused you some offence—I’ll see them dealt with if so.”
“I am just sick of things. Sick of everything. Sick of people… Sick of sacrificing.” Lydia let out an angry roar and hurled the poker towards the wall—it hit it and clattered to the ground.
“And I am sick of the ghastly pink in this ghastly room. And this gaudy chandelier, and that horrible witch in the painting who seems to be sneering at me near constantly.”
She gestured to the portrait of the Duchess hanging over the mantle.
Archer froze, his heart hammering against his chest. His mother’s cold eyes gazed down at him, unblinking and full of judgement. “I thought I had that destroyed.”
“Apparently not. They moved it from the hall the day after we returned from the wedding. When you asked for it to be taken down, the servants felt it would be best to return it to my room.” Lydia glowered at the painting.
“Then allow me to take care of it once and for all.” Archer growled striding towards the painting before he could think twice.
He ripped it from its hanging place and hurled it across the room.
It collided with the opposite wall and splintered into satisfying pieces.
Blood thundered in his ears as he turned to his wife and saw the echo of his own anger in her eyes.
“I think it is time we renovated this room, don’t you?” Archer gestured around them, a smile stretching across his face.
Lydia nodded and strode towards the wall, using the sharp end of the poker to create a tear in the wallpaper. “I have always hated pink.”
She tore the wallpaper from the wall with gleeful abandon.
“And I have always hated this chair.” Archer slammed his foot through the chair Lydia had already beaten to bits with the poker.
“And this is the most uncomfortable bed I have ever slept in.” Lydia drove the poker into the mattress, puffs of feathers flying everywhere,
“I’ll get you a new one.” Archer ripped more wallpaper off the walls, tearing the ugly, soulless art his mother had had commissioned from their hangings as well and snapping them over his knee.
With each crash, it was like he could hear his mother screaming. With every splintering bit of furniture, he felt joy for the childhood she had stolen from him.
Beside him, Lydia let out wild laughs as she followed in his wake. He was a hurricane of devastation to her tornado of chaos. They moved in sync with one another, and at some point, their anger turned into laughter.
“Allow me.” Archer leaned over, helping her to tug the fire poker free of where it had gotten itself wedged.
“Thank you.” She looked up at the chandelier then at him. “You aren’t attached to that are you?”
“I have always hated the thing.” He looked from Lydia to the ceiling. “But how do you plan on reaching it?”
“I thought perhaps you would help me.” Lydia gave him a dangerous smile. “Or I would simply let you do the honors.”
“I think I can help.” He strode forward and threw her into the air.
She let out a shriek, the fire poker hooked into the gaudy chandelier and brought it down with a thundering crash, splintering the hideous ivory table and cracking the hearth in two.
Outside the door, Archer heard the distinct sound of scuttling footsteps and suspected the servants were worried. He shook himself off.
Archer helped Lydia off the floor, checking to see if she was hurt. “Perhaps I got a little carried away. You don’t know how long I have wanted to tear this place to the ground.”
Lydia smiled at him. “No but I can imagine.”
They surveyed the damage around them, and Lydia turned to him. “I had not realized interior décor could be so much fun.”
“Nor had I.” Archer was breathless as he surveyed the devastation around them.
Lydia nodded. “I think I shall have Mr. Lyall make up the guest bedroom in the western wing, if that’s all right with you.”
Archer nodded. “Of course. You are welcome to move there permanently if you wish. We can make this into a guest room.”
“Once it is done up, maybe. Though, the morning light that comes through here is rather stunning, and it is at least in the heart of everything. I quite like being so close to everyone.” Lydia gave him a shy smile.
“Then I shall ensure this room is fixed up as quickly as possible.” He smiled back at her. “Though perhaps you should refrain from such extensive renovations elsewhere in the house. I suspect Iris will get herself in trouble and find some hole in a wall and get stuck there.”
Lydia’s eyes widened in horror. “I had not thought of that.”
“Don’t worry. I have a key for the room, and I’ll ensure it is locked until we can have the builders come fix the holes.” He gestured to several holes they had made in the walls. “Had you given any thought to where you might redecorate next?”
“I thought I might do your study.” She gave him a sidelong look, her smile broadening at his stunned expression.
“Tell me you are joking?”
“I suppose you will have to wait and see.” She laughed and left the room, dust and detritus in her hair—looking every bit the ethereal goddess she was.