Page 19 of Duke of Myste
The realization added yet another layer to her evolving understanding of the stern Duke.
“Thank you for telling me,” Jane said, genuinely appreciative of the context her sister had provided. “I will make sure to approach Harriet with appropriate sensitivity.”
Lydia smiled, her expression warming. “I suspect you’ll find more common ground with her than you might expect. Despite the constraints her past has placed on her standing, Harriet has forged a life of considerable independence and intellectual engagement. The Duke may present himself as the embodiment of propriety, but he has supported his sister’s unconventional choices with remarkable consistency.”
This glimpse of Richard as a supportive brother rather than merely a stern enforcer of social norms intrigued Jane more than she cared to admit.
Before she could pursue that train of thought, however, Lady Drownshire appeared in the doorway, her expression suggesting that dawdling would not be tolerated.
“Jane, we must depart immediately if you’re to have sufficient time to prepare for your visit. The Duke’s carriage is scheduled to arrive in two hours.”
With a sympathetic smile, Lydia squeezed Jane’s hand before releasing her to maternal custody. “Remember, appearances often conceal more than they reveal—in houses, as well as people.”
The cryptic parting advice lingered in Jane’s thoughts as she endured her mother’s continuous stream of instructions during their journey home—guidance ranging from appropriate topics of conversation to the exact degree of interest one should display when shown family portraits.
By the time they reached Drownshire House, Jane’s head was swimming with contradictory directives, none of which seemed likely to apply to the complex reality of Richard Riverstone and his apparently complex sister.
Preparation for the afternoon visit proceeded with military precision under Lady Drownshire’s command.
Jane’s hair was arranged and re-arranged until it achieved the precise balance of elegance and simplicity deemed appropriate for a ducal residence tour. Her afternoon dress—a becoming shade of green that complemented her deep brown eyes—was inspected for invisible flaws and pronounced satisfactory, though Lady Drownshire maintained that the neckline might have been more advantageously cut.
“Remember,” Lady Drownshire instructed as a maid fastened Jane’s emerald pendant, “this visit represents your first opportunity to envision yourself as mistress of the Duke’s household. Observe everything—all will affect your future comfort.”
Jane nodded obediently, though her thoughts were focused less on interior design than on the inhabitants she would encounter.
What insight might Harriet provide into her brother’s character? What aspects of the Duke might be revealed in the private setting of his home that remained concealed until now?
Those questions still occupied her mind when the Duke’s carriage arrived precisely at the appointed hour—the punctuality she had come to associate with all aspects of his life. The vehicle itself was a study in understated elegance, the Mystes’ coat of arms discreetly emblazoned on the door, and the grays that pulled it were groomed to gleaming perfection.
“Your mother is not accompanying you?” Richard inquired as he handed Jane into the carriage, his expression suggesting mild surprise at Lady Drownshire’s absence.
“She felt it more appropriate that I visit alone,” Jane explained, smoothing down her skirts as she took her seat.
What she didn’t add was her mother’s explicit instruction to assess the household as its potential mistress—a directive that had made her uncomfortably aware of just how rapidly their courtship was progressing toward its expected conclusion.
Richard seated himself opposite her, his posture as impeccable as always despite the carriage’s movement.
“I trust the preparations for your trousseau have gone smoothly?” he asked, the question clearly an attempt at appropriate conversation rather than genuine interest.
Jane couldn’t quite suppress a smile at the memory of Madame Du Preez’s artistic indignation. “The modiste has rather strong opinions regarding appropriate ducal fashion that do not entirely align with my preferences.”
“A diplomatic response that reveals nothing,” Richard observed with unexpected perceptiveness. “Should I be concerned about appearing in public with a duchess arrayed in scandalous French designs?”
The teasing note in his voice—subtle, yet unmistakable—caught Jane by surprise. His humor had begun to emerge with increasing frequency during their outings, suggesting a capacity for lightness she had not initially thought him capable of.
“I believe we reached a reasonable compromise,” she assured him, finding herself oddly appreciative of his ability to discern her careful omissions. “Though Madame Du Preez did insist on including several designs of her own choosing for… special occasions.”
“How ominous,” Richard drawled, his eyes still flickering with that subtle hint of amusement. “I shall consider myself thoroughly warned.”
The exchange—light, almost playful—created a more comfortable atmosphere than Jane had expected for this significant visit.
As the carriage made its way through London’s fashionable streets, their conversation continued with surprising ease, touching on observations from their museum visit the previous day and opinions on an upcoming musical evening at Lady Cavendish’s residence.
When they finally arrived, Myste House proved as imposing as Jane had imagined—a magnificent Portland stone façade in a classical style, its proportions perfect and its position on Berkeley Square impeccable.
Servants filed out the moment the carriage stopped, moving with the silent efficiency that spoke of rigorous training and clear expectations.
“Welcome to Myste House, Miss Brandon,” Richard said as he assisted her down from the carriage, his formality returning now that they had arrived.
