Page 38 of Duke of Myste
Jane’s mare—a beautiful chestnut beast with intelligent eyes and eager disposition—was one of the few personal possessions shehad insisted on bringing to her new home. The mare nuzzled her palm in greeting, clearly as eager for exercise as her mistress.
“At least you understand me, Artemis,” Jane murmured, stroking her velvet nose. “Even if no one else in this mausoleum does.”
Once mounted—gloriously, comfortably astride—Jane guided Artemis away from the formal gardens and toward the eastern boundary of the estate, where she had been told that a bridle path wound through a small, wooded area.
The sense of proper control over her mount sent a surge of pleasure through her, the familiarity of it a balm to the constant uncertainty that had characterized the first days of her marriage.
The morning sunlight filtered through the canopy as she entered the woods, casting dappled patterns on the path. Birds called to one another overhead, their songs a welcome counterpoint to the stifling silence that pervaded Myste House with its perfect, soulless order.
Jane could almost feel the tension of the past days melting away with each hoofbeat, each breath of fresh air, each moment of solitude.
She had ridden perhaps two miles when a sound caught her attention—a high-pitched yelp that seemed out of place among the woodland noises. Pulling Artemis to a stop, she listened again, trying to locate the source.
There it was again, a plaintive cry that tugged at something instinctive within her. Dismounting with practiced ease, Jane tied Artemis’s reins to a nearby branch and followed the sound into a small clearing just off the path.
She spent a few minutes searching, and then she saw it: a small puppy huddled beneath a fallen log, its whimpers growing more insistent as it caught sight of her. It was a frail-looking little creature, its coat matted with burrs and dirt, its ribs visible beneath tufts of fur.
“Poor little thing,” she murmured, approaching slowly so as not to frighten it further. “Where did you come from? Where’s your mother?”
The puppy cowered initially, but then seemed to recognize Jane as a potential savior rather than a threat. It inched forward, belly low to the ground, until it reached her outstretched hand.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you, little one?” Jane asked softly, “And all alone out here.”
The decision was made without conscious thought—she could not bear to leave this helpless creature to fend for itself.
With gentle movements, she scooped the puppy up into her arms, grimacing slightly at the foul smell that clung to its matted fur.
“You, my friend, are in desperate need of a bath,” she chided, and the puppy responded by licking her chin with surprising enthusiasm. “And food, and quite possibly a veterinarian’s attention.”
The ride back to Myste House was considerably slower, with her new companion cradled carefully against her chest. The puppy, apparently sensing its good fortune, had settled into contented drowsiness, occasionally looking up at Jane with large liquid brown eyes that seemed to contain equal parts gratitude and apprehension.
“I wonder what Richard will make of you,” Jane mused as the house came into view. “Something tells me that the Duke isn’t particularly fond of unexpected additions to his household.”
As if summoned by her words, Richard’s tall figure appeared at the periphery of her vision, standing at the edge of the formal gardens with an expression that suggested he had been waiting for some time. Even from a distance, Jane could see the rigid set of his shoulders and the slight frown that marred his forehead.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine and rode forward to meet whatever lecture awaited her, the puppy still nestled protectively against her.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she called with deliberate cheer as she drew nearer. “A lovely day for riding, is it not? The eastern woods are particularly beautiful.”
Richard’s gaze moved from her face to her posture astride the horse, then to the bundle of fur in her arms. Each observation seemed to deepen the furrow between his eyebrows.
“Duchess,” he greeted, his strained tone suggesting that he was making a conscious effort to moderate his reaction. “I see you have taken it upon yourself to ride out. Alone. Astride. And to return with… an addition to our household.”
A stable boy hurried forward to take Artemis’s reins, his eyes widening at the sight of the puppy but wisely making no comment as he led the mare away.
Jane had jumped down with haste, and was suddenly painfully aware of how graceless the action must have looked.
“Yes to all charges, Your Grace, she replied, adjusting the puppy in her arms. “Though in my defense, I did not ride out with the intention of acquiring a pet.”
Richard stepped closer, close enough that she could see the maelstrom of emotions in his hazel eyes—not merely the expected disapproval, but something that looked like genuine concern.
“You should not ride out unaccompanied,” he insisted, his tone softer than she had anticipated. “Certainly not astride, regardless of your preference. It is neither safe nor appropriate for a woman of your station.”
Jane opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort about her considerable riding skills, but something in his expression gave her pause. There was genuine worry there, not simply autocratic displeasure.
“I have been riding since childhood,” she said instead, moderating her tone to match his, “and Artemis knows me quite well.”
“That is not the point.” Richard glanced toward the distant tree line, a muscle working in his jaw. “Accidents happen even to the most accomplished riders. You could have been thrown, injured, with no one to render assistance. And your… manner of riding would raise eyebrows, should anyone witness it.”
