Page 22 of Duke of Myste
“As ready as one can be under the circumstances, I suppose,” Jane said, attempting lightness.
Diana’s face fell. “If only I hadn’t?—”
“Stop.” Jane took her twin’s hands firmly. “We’ve been through this countless times. I made my choice, and I would do it again without hesitation. Foryou.”
“But marrying him?—”
“Is the consequence of my decision.” Jane squeezed Diana’s hands before releasing them. “Besides, our courtship has proven that the Duke is not entirely without redeeming qualities.”
Diana raised a suspicious eyebrow. “High praise indeed from a woman who once called him a ‘fossilized repository of outdated conventions.’”
“I might have revised my assessment slightly,” Jane admitted. “He’s merely a semi-fossilized repository.”
The sisters shared a brief laugh, interrupted by Lady Drownshire sweeping into the room, emanating nervous energy and French perfume.
“Jane! Why are you not ready? Your father awaits. And the Duke…” She paused, her fan fluttering anxiously. “Well, the Duke appears rather… impatient.”
“Heaven forbid we keep His Grace waiting,” Jane murmured, adjusting her grandmother’s diamond earrings. “I suppose punctuality is a ducal virtue I must now adopt.”
“Jane…” Her mother’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “I beg you to remember your position. You will be a duchess within the hour. Comport yourself accordingly.”
“I promise to be appropriately duchessy, Mama,” Jane drawled, unable to resist the small rebellion.
Lady Drownshire’s eyes narrowed. “This is not a joke, Jane. Your entire future is about?—”
“To be irrevocably tied to a man I barely know, based on a scandal I deliberately took upon myself,” Jane finished. “I am fully aware of my situation.”
“Then act like it,” Lady Drownshire hissed, before softening her voice. “Your father awaits.”
Jane drew a steadying breath and nodded. “Very well. Let us proceed with this… joyous occasion.”
The corridor stretched before them like a road to execution. Lord Drownshire stood waiting, his expression a complex blend of resignation and concern.
“You look beautiful, Jane,” he complimented, offering his arm.
“Thank you, Papa.” Jane took his arm, grateful for its steadiness. “I apologize for the circumstances.”
He patted her hand awkwardly. “The Duke is a man of honor, despite everything. He will treat you well. That is the most a father can hope for, given the circumstances.”
“I know,” Jane replied, though uncertainty coiled within her.
What did she truly know of Richard beyond their heated debates and carefully modulated conversations?
“This is your last chance to speak sense,” her father declared abruptly, his voice gruff with poorly concealed concern. “The Duke is a cold man, Jane. Perhaps we might still find another way–”
“No.” Jane’s voice was firm. “This is the path I chose, and I will see it through.”
The chapel doors opened, revealing the small congregation gathered for this hasty union. Family and close friends watched as Jane began her walk toward the altar—and toward the Duke of Myste.
He stood rigid and imposing in his formal attire, the severe black emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding presence. But it was his expression that caused Jane’s steps to falter—a blend of fury and something else that looked almost like pain.
He was looking at her as though the very sight caused him physical discomfort, his jaw clenched so tightly she could see a muscle jumping beneath his skin.
Could it be…?
The realization struck her with surprising clarity as she noticed a subtle warmth spread across his tortured features.
He is disappointed in how I look.
