“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 theheart 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.
Chapter Twelve
“So you were serious.” Archer leaned against the doorframe of his study as he looked at Lydia’s handy work. “I’ll admit, when you said my study was next, this was not what I was expecting.”
Lydia tucked a strand of hair behind her head and finished placing the last of the ledgers onto the meticulously organized shelf behind her.
She canted her head towards the Duke. “And what were you expecting?”
Archer shrugged “Significantly more holes. And dust.”
“There was so much dust in here, I could hardly have added more.” Lydia made a disgusted noise. “For a man who is so controlled, your study was in dire shape. You’d almost think we did not have servants to see the state of it.”
“I wasn’t about to let just anyone in here.” Archer made a dismissive gesture. “There is all kinds of information to be found. My financial records, diaries of past dukes. Who knows what a servant could do with that sort of thing.”
“Not very trusting, are you?”
“Because you are an open book.” Archer rolled his eyes. “Have you… reorganized my books?”
“More like organized. Re-organizing would imply there was some sort of system here before, and if there was, I could not make heads nor tails of it.” She shook her head. “It was a miracle you could find anything.”
“It had been on my list, but I just never seemed to find the time.”
“Clearly, you needed a wife.”
“Clearly.” Archer ran his hands along the bookshelves, nodding thoughtfully. “Organized by genre, subgenre, and then by author’s surname. Very thorough.”
“Journals are also further divided into year and month as are the ledgers.” Lydia swallowed. “Speaking of which… I wanted to talk to you… about Iris.”
Archer tensed, and Lydia braced herself. “What about her?”
“I was looking through the records, and it seems like she has just ended her piano lessons?” She thumbed through the book until she got to the relevant page.
Archer’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I thought music might be one of those passions she stuck with, but it was not. Still, at least she learned the basics, and no doubt, she will return to it at a later date as she nearly always does.”
“I was thinking…” Lydia swallowed as Archer’s eyes narrowed. “I was thinking that perhaps, we could get her some painting lessons now that she has a little more free time, and we have the money freed up from the piano lessons.”
“I thought I said that you were not to get involved in my sisters’ or my niece’s education.” Archer’s frown was so deep it was nearly a crater.
“I know that.” Lydia licked her lips, her mouth dry under the intensity of Archer’s gaze. “I just… I wanted to be useful. To be helpful. I am not trying to meddle, but at the moment, Iris seems obsessed with painting. She vibrates with excitement whenever she sees any of us get out our easels, and if Cora was more willing to teach her…”
