Page 25 of Duke of Myste
“Jane,” he agreed, the single syllable somehow transforming the atmosphere between them into something less adversarial.
The carriage finally stopped in the sweeping drive that led to Myste House, its imposing façade visible even through the gentle rain.
“Ready?” he asked, turning to meet her gaze once more.
Jane drew a steadying breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be to begin an entirely new life with a stranger,” she replied honestly.
Something unexpected flickered in Richard’s eyes—a brief vulnerability that was quickly masked.
“Then we are equally prepared,” he said quietly, and Jane realized that in truth, he was facing the same prospect.
Together, they faced the entrance of Myste House, where the familiar line of servants awaited – the same faces she had met during her courtship, now looking upon her with new eyes as their duchess. Jane’s grip tightened imperceptibly on Richard’s arm, a silent acknowledgement that everything had changed, that this was no longer a visit, but her permanent reality. To her surprise, his free hand came up to cover her own for a briefmoment, a gesture of reassurance so fleeting, she might have imagined it.
“One step at a time, Jane,” he murmured. “We will find our way through this together.”
As they moved forward to begin their new life as Duke and Duchess of Myste, Jane wondered what other surprises this enigmatic man might hold—and whether there might be more to this arrangement than the cold, calculated transaction she had anticipated.
CHAPTER 9
“Welcome to Myste House, Your Grace.”
The butler’s voice echoed in the vast entrance hall, the formal address striking her ears with startling unfamiliarity. It would take time, she supposed, to become accustomed to her new title—one of many adjustments awaiting her in this strange new life.
Jane found herself unconsciously moving closer to her new husband, one of the few familiar things amid overwhelming strangeness.
Richard’s arm remained steady beneath her hand as the butler announced, “The staff has been assembled in the main hall to greet Your Graces.”
“Thank you, Wilson,” Richard replied, his voice carrying that particular blend of authority and restraint Jane had come toassociate with him. “Please inform them that we shall be there momentarily.”
Jane glanced up at him, surprised to find his expression soft—a momentary glimpse of understanding in his countenance.
“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” Jane replied, summoning a confidence she did not entirely feel. “Though I warn you, I’m likely to forget half their names immediately.”
Something that might have almost been a smile touched Richard’s mouth. “There will be time to commit them to memory. For now, simple dignity will suffice.”
He guided her through the house with that same measured authority, his hand occasionally pressing lightly against hers where it rested on his arm—a silent reassurance that she found oddly comforting despite herself.
The servants waited in neat rows, familiar faces now assembled to formally acknowledge her changed status. Their expressions remained carefully neutral as Jane and Richard entered, though she felt their scrutiny like a physical weight bearing down on her.
These people would bear witnesses to every aspect of her new life, their judgment perhaps more consequential than that of Society at large.
Richard introduced her with formal gravity. “May I present, Her Grace, the Duchess of Myste.”
Jane inclined her head with what she hoped was appropriate ducal dignity. “I look forward to serving as your duchess,” she said, pleased that her voice emerged steady and clear.
Mrs. Winters stepped forward. She was a tall, imposing woman with iron-grey hair and a face that suggested she had seen everything worth seeing in her years of service. “Mrs. Winters, Your Grace. I manage the staff.”
“Mrs. Winters,” Jane acknowledged, noting the woman’s shrewd assessment. Here was the true power behind Myste House’s impeccable order.
Richard proceeded with re-introductions—the butler, Mr. Wilson; the chef, Monsieur Laurent; the head gardener, Mr. Finch; and a dozen others whose names and functions blended together despite Jane’s best efforts to remember them.
When the introductions were concluded, Richard turned to her, that inscrutable mask back into place.
“I’m afraid I must attend to certain matters that cannot wait. Mrs. Winters will show you to your chambers and acquaint you with the household arrangements.”
“You’re leaving?” Jane couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. This was, after all, their wedding day—irregular though the circumstances might be.
