Page 26 of Duke of Myste
“Only for a few hours,” Richard replied, his tone suggesting this was perfectly reasonable. “There are business matters requiring immediate attention that were postponed for the ceremony.”
Jane felt a flare of indignation rise within her. Business matters? On their wedding day? But she swallowed the sharp retort that sprang to her lips, suddenly aware of the servants’ watchful eyes.
“Of course,” she said instead, her voice cold but steady. “I would not wish to interfere with your work.”
Something flickered in Richard’s eyes—awareness of her displeasure, perhaps. But he merely bowed slightly. “Mrs. Winters will see to your comfort. I shall return for dinner.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with strangers, in a house that felt more like a museum than a home.
She stood motionless for a moment, fighting the urge to run after him and demand… what, exactly? Attention? Consideration? Some form of acknowledgment that this day was significant?
“If Your Grace would follow me,” Mrs. Winters spoke up, her tone respectful but not obsequious. “I shall show you to your chambers.”
Jane gathered her composure and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Winters. I would appreciate that.”
As the housekeeper led her through the sprawling mansion, Jane found herself grateful for the distraction of the tour. Each room revealed new aspects of the Duke’s character—the library was filled with meticulously organized volumes on history, politics, and natural philosophy; the music room was occupied by a pianoforte that appeared regularly used; the formal dining and drawing rooms were arranged for entertaining thecrème de la crème.
“His Grace maintains separate chambers, of course,” Mrs. Winters explained as they climbed the grand staircase to the family wing. “The Duchess’s suite has been completely refurbished in anticipation of your arrival.”
“That was… considerate,” Jane replied, wondering how long Richard had been planning to get married.
“His Grace is most attentive to proper arrangements,” Mrs. Winters added, a note of pride evident in her voice. “Everything is always as it should be in his household.”
As it should be.
The phrase seemed to encapsulate everything about her new husband—proper, correct, perfectly aligned with expectations and tradition. Everything Jane had spent her life questioning and challenging.
Mrs. Winters finally stopped before a set of double doors and opened them to reveal an undeniably beautiful suite of rooms decorated in soft blues and silver, with large windows overlooking the garden below. Sunlight streamed in through gauzy curtains, catching on silver brushes arranged on the dressing table and the delicate embroidery of the cream bed hangings.
“Your lady’s maid awaits in the dressing room, Your Grace,” Mrs. Winters informed her. “Annabelle has been specially selected for her skills with hair and French fashion. His Grace was most particular about your comfort.”
Jane felt a flutter in her chest at Richard’s consideration. “Thank you, Mrs. Winters. I am certain everything will be satisfactory.”
The housekeeper nodded, her rigid posture softening slightly. “If I might say, Your Grace, the staff is most pleased to welcome you to Myste House. It has been… quiet… for too long.”
Before Jane could respond to this unexpected sentiment, Mrs. Winters curtseyed and scurried away, leaving her alone in her new domain.
She moved slowly through the rooms, trailing her fingers over polished surfaces and soft fabrics, trying to resign herself to her new reality.
The quiet knock at the dressing room door startled her out of her contemplation.
“Your Grace?” A young woman with chestnut-brown hair and bright, intelligent blue eyes curtseyed in the doorway. “I’m Annabelle.”
“Please come in, Annabelle,” Jane urged, studying the young woman with interest. At least, there was someone her age amid the sea of imposing senior servants.
“I’ve prepared a light refreshment, Your Grace,” Annabelle said, gesturing to a small table where tea and sandwiches had been laid out. “And a bath can be drawn whenever you wish to change out of your traveling clothes.”
Jane only then realized how tired she was, the emotional strain of the day catching up with her all of a sudden. “Tea would be wonderful, thank you. And perhaps you could tell me a little about the household while we wait for the bath to be prepared?”
Annabelle’s smile was warm and genuine. “Of course, Your Grace. What would you like to know?”
Jane settled into a comfortable chair by the window, allowing herself a moment of relaxation as Annabelle poured the tea. “I noticed that Lady Riverstone isn’t in residence. I had hoped to see her again.”
“Miss Harriet?” Annabelle’s eyes lit up with affection. “Oh yes, but she’s not in residence at present. She’s at the country estate, Myste Park. She was already there when His Grace sent word about the wedding, and there wasn’t much time for her to return to London before the ceremony.”
“I see,” Jane murmured. “I do hope she wasn’t too disappointed to miss it.”
Annabelle’s expression brightened. “Oh, she’s wonderful, Your Grace! Not at all what you might expect. She’s so lively and full of ideas—always reading or starting new projects that drive the staff to distraction. But everyone adores her, even when she’s turning everything upside down.”
