Page 6 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)
“Well, I know you can be charming when you choose to be. Clearly, you are powerful, and you know it, and you are not afraid to show it.” She gave him a meaningful look.
The Duke’s eyes sparkled. “Why bother hiding it?”
“But I sense there is more to you than I have seen.” Lydia searched his face, and to her surprise, she saw his lips quirk upwards.
“You sound like Juliet.” Archer leaned against the carriage wall, his face softening at the mention of his sister.
“Oh?”
“Yes—she has a tendency to see the best in people, even when they do not deserve it. She is open-hearted, sweet-natured, and determined to believe that everyone is like her. She loves books, especially ones with romance at the centre. I swear, she spends half her days pining for a man like Mr. Darcy.” He let out an amused snort.
“Better that than Mr. Wickham,” Lydia pointed out.
Archer stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose that is true. Though I doubt any man like that would be able to get within ten feet of her.”
“Because you would stop them with a look?” she teased, the tension in her chest easing somewhat.
Archer nodded. “If I did not, Cora certainly would. She is fiercely protective, especially over people she loves. She is like a tiger caring for her cubs.”
What if she thinks her family needs protecting from me? She swallowed, and something of her thoughts clearly showed on her face because Archer added, “I would not worry too much, Cora’s bark is decidedly worse than her bite. And if you get her talking about art, she will love you forever.”
“I had not realised she painted.”
“Oh yes, she loves it. And sculpting too.”
“She sounds rather…” Lydia trailed off, not wanting to inadvertently cause offence.
Archer gave her a knowing smile. “Unusual? Eccentric? If she was a man, I suspect she would be in all kinds of trouble.”
“Younger siblings do have that tendency.” She could not help but smile back, surprised that there was no pain at the thought of her brother.
“Iris is forever trying to convince Cora to teach her, but seven really is too young to be around such sharp tools and heavy objects.” He shook his head.
“Who is Iris?” Lydia tried to recall if Archer had mentioned the name before, her mind seizing on the fact that the girl was still so young.
“My niece.” Archer stiffened.
Lydia’s brow furrowed. “I thought both your sisters were unmarried.”
“They are.” The Duke looked away from her, his eyes going distant. “Katherine, my older sister, was Iris’ mother. She died giving birth.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Lydia found herself reaching forwards and hastily closed her fingers, putting her hand in her lap instead.
“It was a long time ago.” Archer’s face hardened. “Hardly the sort of thing one should speak of on their wedding day.”
Lydia swallowed the questions bubbling up within her.
How had he ended up with his sister’s daughter?
Did her father not want her? She understood that Archer would not discuss the matter any further, and for all his charm, she could not help but remember the coldness of his anger. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Archer canted his head towards her. “You are a duchess now; you do not need to call me ‘Your Grace’.”
Lydia’s cheeks flushed. “Well, what am I supposed to call you? Husband dearest?”
To her surprise, Archer let out an amused bark of laughter and shook his head. The sound was like rich chocolate on a summer’s day. “Only if you wish for me to call you my darling wife.”
“I would prefer Lydia.” The sound of his laughter still echoed in her mind.
He arched an eyebrow at her, his smile teasing. “How terribly intimate of you.”
“I can hardly have you call me Baine or Dashings—that makes it sound like I am one of your Eton chums.” She gave a shudder.
“I suppose not. Very well, Lydia.” The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine, her skin suddenly hot. “You may call me, Archer.”
Before Lydia could say another word, the carriage jolted to a stop. The door opened, and Archer stepped out, offering her a hand for assistance. She took it without thinking, smiling at him.
A warmth settled over her, and she felt something small ignite in her chest as they walked side by side to the house.
Perhaps this marriage will not be so bad after all.
Archer gestured in front of them. “Welcome to Dashings Manor. I suspect the others will be some time in arriving; the carriage goes more slowly when Iris is onboard.”
They stepped through the front door, and several servants greeted them, sweeping into low bows. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I am Mr. Lyall, the steward.”
“And you, Mr. Lyall.” Lydia glanced around at the portraits on the wall of numerous well-dressed women, her eyes catching sight of one with Archer’s same black hair and amber eyes.
Mr. Lyall followed her gaze and gave her an ingratiating smile. “It is customary for the Duchesses of old to be laid out to greet the new Duchess when she is first brought home.”
“How thoughtful.” Lydia smiled at the man.
“I will leave you in Mr. Lyall’s capable hands.” Archer’s voice had lost the easy warmth of the carriage ride, and Lydia turned to him in surprise. “He will see you have everything you need introduce you to the rest of the servants. I will see you at dinner.”
Archer’s gaze flitted to the portraits of the Duchess’, and then he left without another word, leaving Lydia standing alone and confused.