“I challenge anyone to meet her and not instantly fall in love with her.” His face was soft, and it made Lydia’s chest ache.
“She is rather sweet,” Lydia agreed. “A delightful little rascal.”
“Exactly.” After a long moment, Archer turned to her and said, “Thank you. For playing along with Iris, I mean.”
“I’m surprised you asked me to join,” Lydia admitted without thinking. “But I am glad that I did. It was nice.”
“She’ll have you playing with her whenever she can,” Archer warned.
“I don’t mind. It reminds me of when I was that age. My father…” Lydia swallowed and continued, “My father was a very busy man, but he would always find time to play with me. Though, our games were less about make-believe and more often based on pretend business ventures.”
“I imagine you were quite the little mogul.” Archer’s mouth quirked into a smile.
“A little.” Lydia tugged self-consciously at the sleeve of her dress. “I would also act out the occasional play for him though he forbade me from reading Dr. Faustus—apparently it was far too depressing.”
“I’d have to agree. The world is grim enough without adding to it by reading that dreary tale.”
“I would have thought it would be your cup of tea.”
“I prefer Shakespeare or more modern things like the romantics. Why seek out darkness? There is plenty of that already.” Archer shrugged.
“My father used to have a set of Shakespeare’s comedies. Beautifully bound in the finest leather you have ever seen. I had to sell it last year to pay some of the servants.” Lydia looked at the floor.
“We should get you another set then.” Archer’s voice was soft, and she looked up at him. “I know it would not be the same, but I am rather partial to the Bard’s comedies myself.”
“I bet you would be a most convincing Puck,” Lydia teased.
“Oh, fair Lydia, I could play any part.” He gave her a dramatic bow. “But we both know I would be Oberon.”
“And would that make me your Titania?” Lydia laughed.
“I suppose it would be amusing to watch you fall in love with an ass.” He caught the pillow Lydia threw at him with an amused expression. “Though I perhaps you would be better suited to Hermia.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I am not the sort of woman that any man will look at, let alone two.”
“False modesty is rather tiresome.” The Duke’s voice was a gentle rebuke.
Lydia hugged her arms around herself. “It is not false modesty. I simply know I am no great beauty.”
“No. You are not a typical beauty. But to say that you are no great beauty, that is not true.” His voice was soft with a hoarseness to it that made her look at him.
He is a rake.Her brother’s words echoed, and the smell of rain and mud rose in her mind. She needed to hold onto Archer’s change the day before.I will not fall for his charms.
“Pretty words, Archer, but that is all they are.” She gave him a smile and left before he could say another word.
Chapter Eight
Aclap of thunder woke Archer from his sleep, jerking him bolt upright in his bed. Rain lashed against his window, and he rubbed a hand blearily across his face.
He was about to go back to bed when he heard a muffled sound. He leaned forwards. It sounded like someone crying. Curious, he stood up, pulling on his dressing gown as he slipped from his bedroom into the hallway.
“That way.” He murmured, listening to the sound of scuffling from down the hall.
If his ears had not been so attuned to the sound of crying, he doubted he would have even heard it above the storm, but he had spent his life listening to his sisters try and hide their tears from him and then Iris. And he had learned the sounds so intimately that he never missed them. He never wanted them to feel alone.
The crying grew louder, punctuated with heavy pants as though someone was terrified. He sped up and found himself staring at a crumpled figure, curled with her knees against her chest, eyes red with tears.
“Lydia?” Archer moved towards her without thinking. “Lydia, what’s wrong?”
