Page 12 of Duke of Myste
“Let’s not revisit that,” Jane interrupted, squeezing her fingers gently. “What’s done is done.”
Diana’s eyes welled with tears that she blinked back determinedly. “But you’ve sacrificed so much already—your future, your freedom—all because I was foolish enough to be caught alone with the Duke.”
Jane studied her sister’s face, noting the pallor that had replaced her usually rosy complexion, the shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of a sleepless night. “What precisely happened, Diana? Howdidyou find yourself alone with the Duke of Myste, of all people?”
Diana’s gaze dropped to their clasped hands. “It was entirely innocent, I assure you. We were part of a larger group discussing the latest botanical imports from the East Indies. Lord Thornton had mentioned the Duke’s interest in rare specimens, and I…well, I had questions about propagation methods for certain alpine varieties.”
“And somehow the entire group disappeared, leaving you alone with him?” Jane prompted, struggling to keep the skepticism from her voice.
“I didn’t even notice,” Diana admitted, color rising to her cheeks. “The conversation was so interesting—he knows a surprising amount about botanical classification, Jane—and before I realized what had happened, the others had drifted away to join the dancers. We moved to Lord Thornton’s study to examine some illustrated texts, and then…”
“And then Lady Thornton discovered you,” Jane finished for her.
Diana nodded miserably. “The Duke was a perfect gentleman throughout. He maintained an appropriate distance and spoke only of scientific matters. But of course, none of that mattered in the slightest once we were found alone together in a closed room.”
Jane couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her lips. “The Duke of Myste, engaging in botanical discourse? The same man who lectured me on proper feminine decorum at Marian’s wedding?”
“He was surprisingly knowledgeable,” Diana continued, a hint of surprise coloring her tone as she bit back a laugh, before her voice softened. “And attentive too. He actually listened to mytheories about cross-pollination instead of dismissing them as fanciful feminine nonsense, as most gentlemen would.”
“Well, how remarkably enlightened of him,” Jane muttered, unable to entirely suppress the sarcasm.
The idea of Richard Riverstone—stern, proper, judgmental Richard Riverstone—showing genuine interest in her sister’s scientific pursuits struck her as wildly incongruous with everything she knew of the man.
Diana studied her twin’s face with growing concern. “Jane,” she said softly, “will you be all right? To marry a man you so clearly dislike?”
The direct question caught Jane off guard. She had been so focused on managing the crisis, on protecting Diana and navigating the Duke’s unexpected offer, that she had scarcely allowed herself to properly contemplate the long-term implications of what lay ahead.
“It is a marriage of convenience, Diana,” she replied finally, her voice steadier than she felt. “Nothing more. The Duke requires a duchess to run his household and eventually produce an heir. I require the protection of his name and position to avoid social ruination. It’s a practical arrangement, entered into with clear heads on both sides.”
“But marriage is forever,” Diana persisted, her romantic nature clearly troubled by Jane’s pragmatic assessment. “Spending a lifetime with someone you neither love nor respect?—”
“I never said I didn’t respect him,” Jane corrected automatically, surprising them both. After a moment’s hesitation, she continued, “The Duke is… principled, if nothing else. He could have refused to offer for me, claimed mistaken identity or some other excuse. Instead, he chose the honorable path, despite our well-documented philosophical differences.”
“And is that enough? Respect without affection?”
Jane straightened her shoulders, summoning the practical determination that had always been her shield against life’s disappointments. “It will have to be. I made my choice when I traded places with you, Diana. I will make this work.”
Diana’s expression remained troubled, but she seemed to recognize the finality in Jane’s tone. “If anyone can forge a successful marriage through sheer force of will, it would be you,” she acknowledged with a small, sad smile.
“Precisely.” Jane agreed, rising from the window seat with renewed purpose. “Now, I believe Mama mentioned something about fittings with Madame Du Preez this afternoon. Apparently, becoming the Duchess of Myste requires an entirely new wardrobe, regardless of whether the current one is perfectly adequate.”
As she moved to the door, Diana’s voice stopped her. “Jane?”
She turned, finding her sister watching her with an expression of mingled concern and determination.
“You’ve always protected me,” Diana said quietly. “Always put my happiness above your own. But I want you to know that if this becomes unbearable, if he makes you truly unhappy, I won’t let you sacrifice yourself forever. Even if it means facing a scandal myself.”
The unexpected declaration brought a lump to Jane’s throat.
“Thank you,” she managed after a moment. “But let’s hope that such dramatics prove unnecessary, shall we?”
With those words—more confident than she truly felt—Jane departed to face the first of what would undoubtedly be countless fittings, consultations, and preparations for a wedding she had never wanted and a future she could scarcely imagine.
“To the Duke and future Duchess of Myste,” Elias Blacknight boomed, raising his glass in a sardonic toast. “May their union be blessed with all the harmony their previous encounters have so conspicuously lacked.”
Richard shot his friend a withering look across the small room they had secured at White’s. The mellow lamplight gleamed against the polished mahogany tables and cast long shadows over the leather chairs, creating an atmosphere of masculine seclusion far removed from the feminine chaos of Drownshire House.
“Your support is overwhelming,” he replied dryly, taking a measured sip of his brandy. “Though perhaps misplaced, considering that no formal acceptance has yet been secured.”
