The Lady Wants A Fool (Bridgerton)

chapter two

"Seven." Lyanna repeated the word slowly giving her father enough time to see her disgruntled expression.

"Yes at Seven, so it's best that you remain in your dress." She felt her eyes bug at him as she just waved her arms around frantically motioning to her garments.

"You can not expect me to remain like this the entire day. I refuse." Lyanna placed her hands on her hips and stared down at her father pointedly. Though really she still had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.

It did not matter she had mastered the art of piercing someone with a gaze so intense they would be left stunned to silence. Well her father was different, but any other man would be.

"I do." I do. I do. That was it. He didn't even care to glance at her as he shifted past her finally gaining entry into the house. Dear God he truly wished for her to remain in this godforsaken dress all day and now all night long. No she had sworn to several things but dear God he was mad.

"You are mad." Lyanna said it with enough force that all the servants just stared and gaped in open amazement. They hadn't even been able to make their introductions before her father had declared they would be attending a dinner party at seven.

Then this scene had ensued. That made the Duke stop and turn to face her. If she didn't love her father so damned much she would have punched him.

No scratch that. She would have throttled then punched him. He was smiling as if he enjoyed every second of her distress. When had he become so wicked? This could not have been the same man who endlessly gave in to all of her demands.

"Father," she cleared her throat because she needed the time to calm herself or she really would throttle him and his smirking face. Is this what she looked like when she made that same face? Well she could understand why someone would want to slap her now.

"For the love of your only daughter, your only blood in this world," she added hoping to tug on his loyalty to her,
" please do not make me suffer this attire all afternoon. I will beg if I must."

Aha! His eyes flashed as if to say you wouldn't dare. Now she had him, she bent to go down on her knees, the maids and servants all watching this rather amazing bit of theater, were graciously horrified on her behalf. Her fathers hand snaked out to grab her, that smirk all gone and now his most serious duke like expression in place.

"For the love of --" he stopped himself before he actually blasphemed. He grabbed her elbow and righted her.

"Lyanna if you swear on your name," he leaned in close to whisper in what he assumed was his harshest tone. She had to almost stifle a giggle but she remained ever so innocent and demure,
"that you will return to that dress or one similar to it before seven this evening, then I will allow you to change." He bit the last part off between clenched teeth hating that she had yet again bested him.

"Oh thank you father!" Lyanna cried out, her voice sounding that of an excited child. She jumped and kissed him on the cheek and then made her way happily into her new house.

It was no Balmoral Castle, but it was very large and there were sure to be thirty rooms at least. Sandringham House was her ancestral seat in London and though it was located more towards the outside of the city, which she for one was grateful, it held a simple elegance and charm to it.

The shrubbery and flowers had been well tended and the inside of the house was no different. The foyer was sparkling and bright, the light yellow reminding her of the nursery back at Balmoral. There was neatly laid carpets their silky threads glistened in the afternoon light and when she just looked around she felt at home. Lyanna had never been to Sandringham House, it was perhaps their only estate she had never visited.