Durham's eyes narrowed quickly and gleamed as he noticed the gun, and all the male whispers in the room fell silent.
"Miss Lockhart, I must ask you to release what you're holding. You might unintentionally harm yourself or someone else."
Lydia looked at Durham's still smiling face with a blank expression.
"That's exactly my intention, Lord Durham. I believe I have enough bullets for you if not for others."
Durham's smile faded, and his face lost its amusement and mockery, now only calm.
"It was just a little joke among friends, Miss Lockhart. I swear on my honor, no one here had any intention of harming you. Of course, you are free to leave if you wish."
But harm had been done, and Lydia's leaving would not change that outcome. Her confidence in life had already been weakened after losing her family, and she had struggled to maintain this fragile connection. Now, this trust was taking a terrible blow.
Even the gossip that society would start about her seemed dull compared to this.
Lydia reached for the trigger.
She had never used a gun in her life, and her father had not wanted her to receive the usual training in shooting and hunting that even would be considered normal for a lady. Her father saw these as a waste of time. He probably never considered that Lydia would face such a situation.
Feeling most upset for disappointing her father, Lydia gave the gun one last sorrowful look, but just before pulling the trigger, she heard the door creak open.
As the moonlight swiftly appeared and disappeared through the door, Lydia felt the presence of the new person behind her and was soon embraced from behind by strong arms. She was about to struggle with the stranger who directly grabbed her gun when she heard the voice that stopped her.
"Don't be afraid, Lydia, it's just me."
In fact, this should have scared her even more. It was clear that the only concern of the men in the room was entertainment. However, Lydia never knew what Damian wanted. Even the affectionate tone in the voice whispering in her ear sent shivers down her spine.
"If you drop the gun, we'll return to the mansion immediately."
His warm breath managed to reach her through her hair. Just this warmth alone made her feel her resolve wavering.
What if Damian pushes her toward the others as soon as he takes the gun?
This thought struck her like lightning, and she pushed his arms away, breaking the connection with his warmth. Damian was aware that her grip on the gun had strengthened; after taking a deep breath, he whispered again. His voice was as sincere and uncalculated as the last time Lydia had heard it in her childhood.
"Lydia... You can't just kill a duke and go on with your life like that. Even though that duke is one of the meanest sons of bitches... Who will testify for your righteousness? Sherman, who traded you for loans on his horse farm?"
So, in exchange for this, he would get his father's horse farm back. Without suppressing the bitter smile that appeared on her lips, Lydia turned back to the room. Sherman, standing at the fireplace at the far end, watching everything with his ice-blue eyes, was also there.
"Congratulations, Mr. Sherman, you've finally won a gamble!"
Shouting had made her feel weak. As the gun slipped from her increasingly powerless fingers into Damian's hand, Lydia also wanted to win this gamble. Trusting Damian was a gamble in itself, but she wanted, she needed, to trust someone.
Just then, the powerful sound of gunpowder exploding in the room echoed off the walls, and an agonizing groan rose from Durham.
When she saw the blood spreading rapidly on the man's beautiful fur from the hand pressed against his shoulder, Lydia thought she had accidentally pulled the trigger herself, but the mocking voice that followed revealed the truth.
"Oh, I thought it was a blank, Hector, my apologies!"
Hector Durham's face, contorted with pain, watched them without saying a word.
Lydia paused for a moment in a short-lived victory stupor, then, acting faster than everyone else, she opened the heavy door and stepped outside. The night's cold air that hit her made all the muscles on her face and body tense up.
Still, she managed to move forward.
When Damian found her, Lydia was standing upright on the horse. Anyone looking from the outside would never understand what had happened in that hunting lodge. Yet Damian had witnessed her trembling under his arms, her breath catching, her struggling in helplessness. He had seen how she surrendered to him when she handed him the gun...
All of this had stirred up a desire that was not easily explainable or restrained. Possessing her could be more intriguing than he had imagined. Especially when he felt compassion for Lydia, he did not deny the desire that rose within him.
In his relationship with the princess, there was no place for feelings or desires. If he didn't advance with his plans, he would be no different from the dozens of handsome men around the princess. As other women in his life entered this web of plans, they lost their appeal, leaving only their place in the web.
Lydia couldn't enter this web. She was too proud and too sensitive. In a word, she was useless. Even the gossip about her hadn't lasted long enough to make an impact.
However, he could use her for his desires. She was so overshadowed by him that no one could notice.
Just as when the late Baron Lockhart, Lydia's father, presented him to his daughter as a plaything, no one cared about his situation, son of a baron who was neck-deep in debt and a baroness who was a mistress of rich nobles.
Lydia could have also been his plaything.
It would be fun to break her defiant stance.