Page 13 of Duke of Myste
Elias sank back into his chair, the picture of aristocratic ease. “Come now, Richard. The lady may have negotiated a fortnight’s consideration, but the outcome is hardly in doubt. You’re the Duke of Myste, and she’s a young woman at the center of a scandal that only marriage can remedy. The arithmetic is rather straightforward.”
“Nothing about Jane Brandon is straightforward,” Richard muttered, staring into the amber depths of his glass. “The woman contains more contradictions than a parliamentary debate.”
“Ah.” Elias’s smile widened perceptibly. “So it’s ‘Jane’ already, is it? Progress, indeed.”
Richard’s expression darkened. “A slip of the tongue, nothing more.”
“Of course,” Elias agreed, though his tone suggested the opposite. “Though I must say, you seem remarkably composed for a man who has just offered for a woman he once described as ‘the most infuriating creature in London Society.’”
“I did what was necessary,” Richard stated flatly. “Honor demanded nothing less.”
Elias studied his friend’s face with the keen insight born of decades of friendship. “Honor,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Not duty or obligation, but honor. An interesting distinction.”
“Do not attempt to read significance where none exists,” Richard warned, his voice taking on the edge that had intimidated lesser men over the years. “The circumstances demanded action, and I took it. Nothing more.”
“As you say,” Elias conceded, though his expression remained skeptical. After a moment’s contemplation, he added, “She is rather remarkable, you know.”
Richard’s eyebrow rose sharply. “Your wife’s sister? I was not aware you held her in such high esteem.”
“Lydia adores her,” Elias continued easily. “Says Jane has the sharpest mind and truest heart of all the Brandon sisters, though she’d never admit as much to Marian or Diana.”
“A sharp mind, certainly,” Richard acknowledged reluctantly. “Though I have my doubts about the tenderness of heart, given the arsenal of cutting remarks she seems to have stockpiled specifically for my benefit.”
Elias laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Perhaps you inspire her to particular heights of eloquence. “I’ve always found that passion—even when it manifests as antagonism—suggests deeper currents beneath.”
“Spare me your romantic philosophizing,” Richard scoffed, draining his glass and setting it aside with deliberate precision. “Miss Brandon and I have reached a practical arrangement that serves both our interests. Passion, whether antagonistic or otherwise, has no place in the equation.”
“If you say so,” Elias replied, his tone making it clear that he remained unconvinced. “Though I think you might find a middle ground, if you are willing to look for it. Jane is not merely the sharp-tongued bluestocking she appears to be at first glance.”
“No?”
“No,” Elias confirmed, leaning forward slightly. “Behind that formidable intellect and those progressive opinions that so alarm you, lies a woman of remarkable loyalty and courage. Look at what she did for her sister—placing herself directly in the path of scandal and social ruin without a moment’s hesitation. That speaks to a character worth knowing, Richard.”
Richard’s jaw tightened, though whether in irritation or consideration was difficult to discern.
“I have no intention of ‘knowing’ Miss Brandon beyond what is strictly necessary for a peaceful marriage,” he stated finally. “We will maintain appropriate appearances in public and lead separate lives in private. A perfectly reasonable arrangement that has served countless aristocratic marriages before ours.”
Elias refilled his friend’s glass, shaking his head with resigned amusement. “Your capacity for self-deception remains undiminished, I see.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Richard,” Elias said patiently, as though explaining something to a particularly stubborn child. “In all the years I’ve known you, I have never once seen you as thoroughly provoked by anyone as you are by Miss Brandon. That woman penetrates your carefully constructed defenses with remarkable efficiency. Do you truly believe that you can share a house—let alone a marriage—with her while maintaining your precious emotional distance?”
Richard’s expression hardened into the mask of aristocratic disdain that had served him so well in diplomatic and social settings alike. “I will interact with that hellion only as much as is absolutely necessary,” he declared, the uncharacteristic epithet betraying the depth of his agitation. “Public appearances, requisite social functions – I shall fulfill the obligations society has set upon me as a husband. But beyond that? Separate wings for the house, separate daily routines, minimal private discourse. There are ample opportunities for distance within the confines of marriage, even while maintaining the façade of marital harmony.”
Elias threw his head back and laughed, a full-throated sound entirely at odds with the somber mood Richard had been cultivating.
“Oh, my friend,” he managed when his mirth had subsided, “I wish you every luck with that strategy. You will surely need it.”
Richard glared at him, affronted by his blatant skepticism. “You find my predicament amusing.”
“Immensely,” Elias admitted without a trace of shame. “The imperturbable Duke of Myste, undone by a woman who challenges his every certainty. It’s positively Shakespearean!”
“I am hardly undone,” Richard protested, his dignified tone at odds with the faint color rising above his impeccably tied cravat. “Merely… inconvenienced.”
“If you insist,” Elias conceded, though his eyes still danced with poorly suppressed mirth. “Though, I must say, for a man who claims to be merely ‘inconvenienced,’ you’ve spent most of our conversation discussing Miss Brandon’s various traits, irritating or otherwise.”
Richard opened his mouth to deliver a suitably crushing response, only to close it again as he realized the unsettling accuracy of his friend’s observation. He had, indeed, found the subject of his prospective fiancée dominating his thoughts since the grand reveal at Lady Thornton’s ball.
