Page 44 of Duke of Myste
“Botanical admirers?” Nicholas echoed, his interest piqued. “This sounds far more intriguing than the usual gossip.”
Diana blushed becomingly. “Merely gentlemen who share my interest in gardening, Lord Stone. Nothing as dramatic as Lydia implies.”
“The first waltz is about to begin,” Elias noted as the orchestra finished tuning their instruments. “Shall we claim our partners before the floor becomes impossibly crowded?”
Richard turned to Jane, his manner stiffly polite.. “Duchess, may I have the honor?”
The question was purely ceremonial—as husband and wife, their dance together was expected, rather than requested—yet something in the way he extended his hand made it feel like a genuine invitation rather than a social obligation.
Jane placed her gloved fingers in his palm, allowing him to lead her toward the center of the ballroom, where couples were already gathering.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Richard remarked as they took their positions, his hand settling on her waist with careful propriety. “Your sisters appear well.”
“They are,” Jane confirmed, conscious of the warmth of his palm against the small of her back even through multiple layers of fabric and stays. “Diana seems to be blossoming particularly. Having our mother’s undivided attention has apparently been beneficial rather than oppressive.”
The orchestra struck the opening notes of the waltz, and they began to move together with unexpected harmony. Richard led with confidence, his steps neither too bold nor too hesitant as they navigated the rapidly filling dance floor.
“You dance well,” Jane praised, surprised by the ease with which they moved together. “Another skill meticulously perfected, Your Grace?”
A faint smile tugged at Richard’s lips. “Dancing, unlike other accomplishments, has always come naturally to me. I find the mathematical precision of the steps… satisfying.”
“Only you would approach dancing as a mathematical exercise,” Jane snorted, though there was no real criticism in her tone. “Every movement calculated for maximum efficiency and proper form, no doubt.”
“Is that how you truly see me?” Richard asked, genuinely curious. “As nothing more than a collection of carefully calculated behaviors?”
The question caught Jane off guard, both with its directness and the vulnerability it betrayed. Their steps faltered momentarily before Richard smoothly corrected their course.
“I…” She hesitated, suddenly aware of the many eyes on them as they performed this most public of marital displays. “I hardly know you well enough to make a complete assessment, Your Grace.”
Something flickered in Richard’s eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or resignation. “A diplomatic answer,” he acknowledged.
“It wasn’t intended as diplomacy,” Jane countered, finding unexpected courage as they swept to a corner of the dance floor temporarily free from immediate observation. “Merely honesty. I have glimpsed… moments that suggest there is more beneath the ducal façade. But such moments are rare and quickly masked as swiftly as they appear.”
Richard’s hand tightened fractionally on her waist, a tension that communicated itself through his entire frame. “Such as?”
“Your laugh,” Jane said simply. “When you were speaking with Lord Stone and the Duke of Fyre, it was… genuine. Unguarded.” She hesitated, then added with quiet sincerity, “It transformed your entire countenance.”
The waltz carried them through another turn, bringing them temporarily into a less crowded section of the dance floor.Richard’s steps slowed almost imperceptibly, creating a small bubble of relative privacy amid the swirling dancers.
“My father,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear, “believed that unrestrained emotion was a weakness unworthy of our station. He considered visible joy as inappropriate as visible anger.”
That revelation left Jane momentarily speechless. This glimpse of who Richard truly was… it was more intimate than any physical touch could have been.
“That sounds like a rather lonely way to live,” she commented, her voice soft.
Richard’s eyes met hers then, and for a breathtaking moment, she saw right through his mask—saw uncertainty, vulnerability, and something else she could not quite name, but that made her heart beat faster beneath the constraints of her corset.
“It was,” he agreed, the simple acknowledgment hanging delicately between them as the waltz drew to an end.
They stood motionless for a heartbeat after the final notes faded, still connected by his hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder, neither quite ready to break the fragile intimacy that had unexpectedly blossomed between them.
Around them, other couples separated, applauding the orchestra with practiced enthusiasm, but Jane found herself unable tolook away from Richard’s face—from the unguarded emotion in his eyes before that mask gradually slid back into place.
His hand fell from her waist with evident reluctance, leaving a ghost of warmth that lingered even as he stepped back to a more proper distance. He offered his arm to lead her off the dance floor, and she placed her hand on it automatically, still trying to process what had just transpired between them.
It’s just a dance, Jane!
Just a waltz, like countless others performed across London’s ballrooms every Season. Three minutes of movement to carefully measured music. And yet, somehow, in those brief moments, something fundamental had shifted between them.
