Page 31 of Duke of Myste
“I will treat you with the consideration befitting your station,” he said finally. “You will want for nothing, and your comfort will be assured in all practical matters.”
“That is what Society expects of a duke, yes,” Jane pointed out quietly. “I asked what I might expect from my husband. There is a difference.”
Richard furrowed his brow. “I’m not certain I understand what more you could possibly need.”
“That,” Jane said, her voice soft but steady, “is precisely the problem. You speak of expectations for me—how I must behave, what activities I should pursue, how I should manage your household. You even mean to enforce boundaries on me that change who I truly am, yet offer nothing of yourself beyond what your title already demands of you. In the carriage, you spoke of mutual respect, yet now it seems your vision of marriage involves only my adaptation to your life, and not an equal partnership.”
Richard’s jaw tightened visibly. “The parameters I’ve outlined are reasonable for a duchess?—”
“For any duchess, perhaps,” Jane interrupted. “But I am Jane Brandon—Riverstone now, I suppose—and I did not agreeto surrender my entire identity simply because circumstances forced us together.”
“What would you have me do?” Richard asked, frustration finally breaking through his careful composure. “What would satisfy your expectations in this… arrangement?”
Jane met his gaze directly. “I would have you acknowledge that this marriage requires adjustment from usboth. If I am to reshape aspects of my life to accommodate your expectations, what are you willing to change? What concessions are you prepared to make?”
The question hung between them, charged with implications that seemed to fill the sunlit room. Richard’s expression shifted through several emotions—surprise, defensiveness, and, finally, reluctant consideration.
“Perhaps you misunderstand the nature of our arrangement,” he said, his voice growing cold. “This is not a negotiation between equals.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Richard regretted them.
Jane’s expression shifted from anger to something far more dangerous—disappointment, mingled with resolve.
“I understand perfectly, Your Grace,” she countered, her voice steady despite the heightened color in her cheeks. “You wish me to be a convenient ornament to grace your home and carry your heirs, not a wife in anymeaningfulsense.”
“That is not what I?—”
“It is precisely what you said, merely dressed in more diplomatic language.” Jane stood up abruptly, her chair scraping across the polished floor. “I agreed to this marriage to protect my family’s reputation and spare my sister the consequences of a scandal not of her intention. I did not, however, agree to surrender my entire identity or dignity in the process.”
Richard rose as well, frustration churning beneath his carefully maintained façade. “Jane?—”
“Duchess,” she corrected with icy precision as she moved toward the door. “I believe that is my title now, is it not? A title that apparently entitles you to dictate every aspect of my existence. In light of that, I would rather you call me by it in the future,Your Grace.”
The door closed behind her with a soft thud that somehow carried more finality than if she had slammed it.
Richard remained standing, the breakfast before him forgotten as he struggled to identify exactly where the conversation had derailed so spectacularly. He had approached their marriage as he would any other challenge: with logic, clear boundaries, and realistic expectations.
And yet, Jane Brandon—no, Jane Riverstone now—seemed determined to inject emotional considerations into it. Particularly the messy, unpredictable kind.
Everything in his life had its proper place, its defined purpose. The idea of allowing his new wife to disrupt that order was deeply troubling to him. Richard preferred clear boundaries and defined expectations, but Jane seemed to blur every line he drew.
And yet, as he replayed their conversation in his mind, her words echoed back at him with uncomfortable clarity.
“What of the mutual respect you spoke of in the carriage?”
He had indeed promised her that. Had he already failed to uphold his end of the bargain? Was he willing to change himself to accommodate her presence in his life?
Richard paused in the corridor, momentarily uncertain of his direction—an unfamiliar sensation for a man who had plotted his course with such careful precision throughout his life.
Behind him lay the remnants of a conversation that had failed almost comically, and ahead lay a marriage that had begun with all the warmth of a business arrangement, and now threatened to deteriorate into outright antagonism.
Unacceptable.
The word echoed in his mind with the force of conviction. The Duke of Myste did not fail—not in business, not in duty, and certainly not in his household.
He had to make this right.
CHAPTER 11
