Page 18 of Duke of Myste
The outings that had followed their promenade in the park had been surprisingly tolerable, if not exactly conventional. Their visits to the British Museum, the Royal Botanical Gardens, and a particularly memorable afternoon at a scholarly lecture on ancient Greek architecture had established a pattern of spirited debate that both found intellectually stimulating, if emotionally exhausting.
“Nonsense,” Lady Drownshire dismissed Marian’s suggestion with a wave of her fan. “The Duke may appreciate intellectual conversations, but he remains a man. Visual appeal is essential, especially in the early days of marriage.”
Jane felt heat rising to her cheeks at this thinly veiled reference to marital duties she had deliberately avoided contemplating. The idea of Richard as not merely a conversational opponent but a husband in every sense of the word made her heart flutter—which she hastily attributed to anxiety rather than another, more complicated emotion.
“I rather think,” Diana ventured softly, “that Jane knows the Duke’s preferences better than any of us, having spent considerable time in his company.”
“Exactly.” Jane seized the opening, grateful for her twin’s intervention. “And I believe a design that suggests dignity and restraint would meet his expectations.”
Madame Du Preez muttered something in French that Jane strongly suspected was unflattering to both the Duke’s expectations and English sensibilities in general.
“Very well,” she conceded. “I will consider those constraints. But…” She raised a finger dramatically. “The trousseau will include at least three designs of my choosing. For special occasions, yes? When you wish to see your Duke’s eyes widen with… appreciation,” she finished with a wink.
Before Jane could formulate a suitable response to this alarming prospect, Lydia intervened with diplomatic grace. “An excellent compromise. Now, perhaps we might discuss color choices? I understand the latest shipment of Italian silks included a particularly fine shade of sapphire that would complement Jane’s complexion.”
The conversation shifted to safer territory as the modiste’s professional enthusiasm turned toward fabric selection.
Jane allowed herself to relax slightly, though maintaining her position as a human mannequin while surrounded by mirrors remained far from comfortable.
“You seem distracted today, Jane,” Marian remarked quietly as she approached, ostensibly to examine a detail on the sleeves. “Are your daily outings with the Duke proving more taxing than enjoyable?”
Jane considered the question carefully before responding. “Not taxing precisely. But more… confusing.”
“Confusing?” Marian echoed, her eyebrow rising. “In what regard?”
“He is not…” Jane hesitated, struggling to articulate the subtle shift in her perception of the Duke over the past week. “He is not precisely the man I believed him to be when our courtship began.”
A knowing smile touched Marian’s lips. “Men rarely are, once one ditches initial impressions. I recall finding Nicholas insufferable when we first met.”
“And now you’re deliriously happy,” Jane observed with a touch of irony. “A transformation I find rather difficult to envision in my situation.”
“I wouldn’t describe marriage as delirious happiness,” Marian replied with surprising honesty. “More… a continuous discovery of new aspects of one’s partner—some delightful, others maddening, all ultimately forming a more complete understanding than first impressions could possibly provide.”
Jane contemplated this perspective as Madame Du Preez returned with an armful of fabric swatches, demanding her full attention for color selection.
The fitting continued for another exhausting hour, during which Jane’s thoughts repeatedly drifted to her afternoon visit to the Duke’s London residence—her first opportunity to observe him in his environment, rather than neutral territory.
When the ordeal finally concluded, she found herself cornered by Lydia before she could escape to prepare for her afternoon engagement.
“A moment, if you please,” Lydia requested, pulling her into a small antechamber while the others gathered their belongings. “I wanted to speak with you privately before your visit.”
Something in her sister’s tone—a blend of concern and delicacy—immediately put Jane on high alert. “Is there something I should know about the Duke’s residence?”
“Not the residence,” Lydia clarified, her expression unusually serious. “His sister. Harriet will be there.”
Jane nodded, not surprised in the slightest. “The Duke mentioned as much when we arranged the visit. He thought it appropriate that I meet her before…” she trailed off, still finding it difficult to come to terms with her upcoming nuptials.
“Harriet Riverstone is… unconventional,” Lydia continued carefully. “Her reputation is somewhat complex due to unfortunate events in her past.”
“You mean the scandal,” Jane surmised, recalling fragments of gossip she had heard over the years.
Lydia glanced toward the doorway to ensure their privacy before responding. “She was compromised by a notorious rake during her debut—Lord Anthony Harrington. Unlike your situation, however, no offer of marriage followed. Instead, Lord Harrington publicly suggested that she had… pursued him.”
Jane felt a surge of indignation on behalf of a woman she had never met. “How utterly despicable!”
“Indeed,” Lydia agreed. “The Duke challenged him to a duel—one of the last fought in England before the practice fell into complete disrepute. Lord Harrington survived with a shoulder wound but was effectively banished from London altogether through the Duke’s influence. ”
That new information cast Richard’s response to Jane’s scandal in a different light—not merely automatic adherence to propriety, but the action of a man who had witnessed firsthand the devastating consequences when such a situation remained unaddressed.
