Page 4 of Duke of Myste
A sharp knock at the door signaled the end of the allotted time.
“Are you composed, my dears?” Lady Thornton’s voice called through the wood. “It is nearly midnight.”
Jane smoothed her hands over the unfamiliar pink silk of Diana’s gown, adjusted the silver mask one final time, and took a deep, steadying breath. “Remember,” she whispered to her sister, “head high, shoulders back. You are a Brandon.”
Diana nodded, the blue mask concealing her still-tearful eyes. “Jane,” she mumbled, reaching for her sister’s hand. “Thank you.”
Jane squeezed her fingers briefly before releasing them. “For what?” she replied with forced lightness. “I’ve merely borrowed your gown for the evening.”
Lady Thornton re-entered, her gaze darting between the sisters with momentary confusion before settling on Jane. “Come, my dear,” she said, extending a hand toward them. “Your parents have been informed of the… situation. It is best to face these things directly, I’m afraid.”
Jane nodded, assuming a posture of quiet dignity.
As they left the blue drawing room, she cast one final glance over her shoulder at her twin, silently praying that Diana would manage to keep up the charade until they could depart.
The return to the ballroom felt like a procession to the gallows. Whispers followed them, curious eyes peering from behind masks of all descriptions to catch a glimpse of the evening’s unexpected scandal. Jane kept her gaze fixed ahead, her chin lifted in a show of composure that belied the rapid beating of her heart.
The grand clock at the end of the ballroom began to toll the midnight hour, its deep, resonant chimes counting down the seconds to the grand reveal. On the twelfth chime, guests all over the room reached up to remove their disguises, revealing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
Jane’s fingers moved to the silver mask, unpinning it with deliberate care. Around her, a ripple of gasps and murmurs rose in the air as people recognized her face.
But it was not the reaction of the assembled guests that captured her attention. It was the tall figure standing opposite her, removing his simple black mask to reveal features set in lines of austere handsomeness. Dark hair, perhaps just slightly too long, and a pair of piercing hazel eyes that widened almost imperceptibly as they met hers.
Richard stared at her with an expression of such profound shock that, under different circumstances, she might have found it amusing. As recognition dawned in his eyes—the realization that she was not, in fact, the soft-spoken twin he had been discovered with—his expression transformed into something she could not quite interpret.
There was confusion, certainly. Perhaps anger. But beneath those expected reactions lurked something else entirely—something that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Interest.
The clock’s final chime faded to silence, leaving only the hushed murmurs of the crowd as they took in their identities. Jane Brandon, the outspoken, opinionated sister—not the shy, bookish one—and the Duke of Myste, a paragon of propriety.
What an unexpected pair they made.
And as Jane stood beneath the weight of a hundred curious stares, facing the man whose reputation she had just irrevocably entangled with her own, she realized with startling clarity that her impulsive decision had set something in motion that neither of them would be able to control.
The game had begun, and the Duke’s expression suggested that he was only now realizing they were playing.
CHAPTER 2
“We need to talk. Now,” Jane commanded as she burst into the private sitting room where Diana had been discreetly waiting.
Diana’s hand flew to her throat, her eyes widening behind the borrowed blue mask. “Jane! What’s happened?”
“It seems we’ve managed to jump out of the frying pan and straight into the fire,” Jane muttered, her voice tight with urgency.
The sitting room, though small, offered a momentary sanctuary from the chaos unfolding in the ballroom. Beeswax candles cast a warm glow over the sisters as they faced one another, their borrowed identities threatening to unravel like poorly tied ribbons.
“But I don’t understand…” Diana whispered, her voice trembling as she stood before Jane in the borrowed blue gown. “What does it matter if he recognized you? The scandal is already?—”
“The Dukeknows, Diana,” Jane interrupted, her voice low and urgent. “He recognized me immediately at the grand reveal.”
Diana’s eyes widened with understanding before her face contorted with guilt. “I should never have let this happen,” she murmured. “Now, you are compromised because of my foolishness.”
For the first time since the ordeal began, Jane allowed her composure to crack, revealing the emotion simmering beneath. She reached for her sister’s hands and clasped them firmly. “Listen to me, Diana. This wasmychoice—freely made, with full understanding of the consequences.”
“But tying yourself to a man you despise?—”
“Better me than you,” Jane cut in, her voice softening as she met her sister’s teary gaze. “You, sweet sister, are meant for a love match. You need a gentleman, Diana, one who would cherish your heart and wisdom. I could not stand by and watch that future crumble because of one innocent mistake.”
