Page 40 of Duke of Myste
“You are right about one thing,” he conceded, turning to face her. “We must stop this constant discord between us. We will need to make a public appearance soon; we cannot present this… fractured façade to the ton.”
“Appearances,” Jane murmured, fighting disappointment at his focus on public perception rather than genuine resolution. “Always appearances.”
“Yes, appearances,” Richard agreed, but his tone lacked its usual dismissive quality. “But there is more at stake than public perception. There are real consequences to scandal, especially for women.”
The emphasis he placed on the last words caught her attention.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked, genuine curiosity warring with her frustration. “It cannot simply be about maintaining the Myste name and legacy. Your concern seems… personal.”
Something flickered in Richard’s expression—a vulnerability that he quickly masked.
“Because I haveseenwhat harm scandal can bring,” he muttered. “Especially to women. I now have two ladies under my roof, and if I need to protect them from themselves, so be it.”
Jane studied his face, seeing a glimpse of the man behind the title—a man driven by something more complex than mere adherence to propriety.
“Your sister,” she said softly, understanding flooding her features. “You’re thinking of what happened to Harriet.
Richard did not confirm her guess, but something in his eyes told her that she had struck gold.
“Harriet will join us once you’ve properly settled in.She has already paid dearly for one moment of youthful indiscretion; I would like to spare you a similar fate, Jane.”
Jane felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. What had happened with his sister had clearly left a deep mark on him, shaping hisrigid adherence to propriety not merely as a matter of pride but as a form of protection.
“I understand,” she murmured, surprised to realize that she meant it wholeheartedly. “Truly, I do. But you cannot shield me from every potential danger or difficulty. I am not a porcelain figurine to be kept on a shelf.”
“No,” Richard agreed, and for a moment, something almost akin to humor glinted in his eyes. “You are far too… spirited for such treatment.”
Jane found herself smiling despite the seriousness of their discussion. “I will try to antagonize you less,” she offered, “if you will try to be more patient with my… spirited nature, as you so eloquently put it.”
“A fair proposal,” Richard acknowledged with a slight nod. “Though I would add one caveat.”
“Of course you would,” Jane snorted. “What additional restriction do you wish to impose this time, Your Grace?”
“Not a restriction,” Richard corrected, moving to sit behind his desk. “Rather, a structured approach to our… adjustment period. Lessons of some sort. I will teach you what is expected of a duchess, and in the process, we can both learn where our boundaries lie. What is truly essential, and what might be… negotiable.”
Jane considered the suggestion while absently stroking the puppy’s head. There was certainly merit in the idea—a formal framework might actually provide more opportunity for finding compromise than their current haphazard clashes. And if nothing else, it would give them defined periods of interaction where they might come to understand one another better.
“Very well,” she agreed. “Though I reserve the right to question the reasoning behind these so-called expectations, and not just meekly accept them as immutable law.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Richard replied.
“Then we have an agreement.” Jane stood up, adjusting her hold on the still-sleeping puppy. “Lessons in duchessing, with room for discussion and potential compromise.”
Richard rose as well, moving around the desk with that same fluid grace that seemed to characterize his every movement. “Indeed. And in exchange, you will consider my concerns before embarking on potentially controversial activities.”
“I will consider them,” Jane allowed. “Though I make no promises about always yielding to them.”
Richard extended his hand to her, apparently intent on sealing their deal with the formality it deserved. Jane shifted the puppy to her left arm and reached out her right hand.
The moment their hands met—skin to skin, without the barrier of gloves for the first time since their wedding—sent an unexpected jolt of awareness up her arm.
Richard’s hand was warm, his grip firm but not crushing, his skin slightly callused in a way that suggested he did more than merely sign documents and attend Parliament.
Their eyes met over their clasped hands, and something electric passed between them—a single moment of connection that transcended their negotiation.
Do you feel it too?
Jane found herself unable to look away from his hazel eyes, suddenly aware of how close they stood, of the faint scent of sandalwood that emanated from his solid frame, and of the steady strength of his hand.
