Page 41 of Duke of Myste
The puppy chose that moment to wake up, letting out a small yip that broke the strange tension.
Richard released her hand, clearing his throat as he stepped back to restore the proper distance between them.
“I shall have a bath drawn,” he said, his voice carrying a slight roughness that had not been present moments ago. “For your… new companion.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jane replied, conscious of the lingering warmth where his hand had held hers. “I should go change before luncheon.”
Richard nodded, his composure apparently restored, though a certain awareness remained in his gaze as it followed her movement toward the door. “Our first lesson will be tomorrow morning, after breakfast,” he said. “We will begin with the basics of household management.”
“How thrilling,” Jane drawled, unable to resist the small provocation. “I shall attempt to contain my excitement until then.”
Richard’s lips twitched. “Until then, Duchess.”
Jane left then, closing the door behind her with careful precision. Only when she was halfway to her bedchamber did she realize she was still smiling, the expression as unexpected as the strange current that had passed between them when their hands touched.
Perhaps this marriage of convenience might prove more interesting than I expected.Not easier, and certainly not simpler, but… interesting.
And that, at least, was something she had never dared to hope for when she had agreed to become the Duchess of Myste.
CHAPTER 14
“Your Grace, Lady Chatworth’s annual spring ball is widely considered the most important event of the Season. I must insist that we arrive at the hour indicated on the invitation—neither embarrassingly early nor fashionably late.”
Richard adjusted his cravat with practiced precision, his valet hovering nearby with an expression of professional anxiety that suggested the Duke’s attire was a matter of national importance. The fine-lined cravat had been folded and refolded three times already, each iteration achieving a level of perfection indistinguishable from the last to anyone save the valet’s exacting eye.
“Of course, Simmons,” Richard replied, maintaining a patient tone despite the familiar ritual. “The carriage is ordered for half-past-eight, which should place our arrival at precisely nine o’clock, allowing for the usual congestion around Berkeley Square.”
The valet nodded, his relief visible as he stepped back to assess Richard’s evening attire. The midnight blue coat had been cut by London’s finest tailor to emphasize the breadth of Richard’s shoulders, while tapering elegantly at the waist. Against the stark white of his shirt and cravat, the deep blue created a striking contrast that spoke of refined taste rather than flashy ostentation.
“Very good, Your Grace. And may I say, the new coat is most becoming.” Simmons handed Richard his signet ring with the care of a priest offering a sacred relic.
Richard slipped the heavy gold ring onto his pinky finger, its familiar weight comforting. “Thank you. That will be all.”
As the valet departed with a respectful bow, Richard allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection before the evening ahead.
The past few days had brought unexpected developments in his newly established household—most notably, a gradual thawing in his relationship with his wife.
Their ‘daily lessons,’ initially conceived as a means of establishing proper boundaries, had evolved into something he had not expected.
Jane approached each session with a combination of sharp intelligence and barely concealed impatience that he found oddly refreshing. She questioned conventions he had long accepted without any real thought, forcing him to articulatereasons beyond ‘because it is simply what is done’ for many of the traditions he upheld.
Yesterday’s lesson on appropriate topics for dinner conversation had devolved into a spirited debate on whether discussions of medical advancements were suitable in mixed company, with Jane arguing passionately that scientific progress should never be considered improper. The fire in her eyes as she’d leaned forward, foregoing her usual perfect posture in her enthusiasm, had been … utterly distracting.
Even more unexpectedly, he found himself looking forward to these daily encounters, their verbal spars oddly invigorating after years of deferential agreement from those around him. Jane challenged him in ways few dared, yet there was no malice in her opposition—merely a fierce intelligence seeking understanding rather than blind compliance.
The puppy, too, had proven less disruptive than he’d initially feared. Now clean, properly fed, and recovering from its ordeal in the woods, the creature had taken to following Jane everywhere with devoted adoration, occasionally deigning to acknowledge Richard’s existence with a cautious wag of its long tail. He had even caught himself absently scratching the mutt behind its ears this morning while reviewing correspondence—an indulgence he chose not to examine too closely.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Enter,” he called, turning to find his butler standing in the doorway.
“Her Grace awaits you in the entrance hall, Your Grace,” Mr. Wilson announced with dignified solemnity. “The carriage has been brought around, as ordered.”
“Thank you, Wilson.” Richard nodded, gathering his gloves and making a final adjustment to his already perfect cravat.
As he descended the grand staircase, he found his pace slowing involuntarily at the sight that awaited him below.
Jane stood in the entrance hall, her back to him as she adjusted an errant curl that had escaped its pins. The deep emerald of her gown caught the light from the chandeliers, the rich fabric shimmering with subtle movement. Her shoulders were bare save for a delicate black lace trim that emphasized the graceful curve of her neck rising from the gown’s modest neckline.
