Page 47 of Duke of Myste
“And if one’s partner attempts to draw closer?” she asked, following his lead through a particularly complex turn.
“You must maintain the boundary,” Richard replied, demonstrating by putting more space between them, which felt suddenly cold despite the afternoon’s warmth. “A duchess cannot allow herself to be compromised by others’ impropriety.”
“Even if she wishes to be closer?”
The question slipped out before Jane could consider its implications, and she instantly felt heat flood her cheeks at her boldness.
Richard’s steps faltered almost imperceptibly before he recovered, his grip on her hand tightening fractionally. “Especially then,” he said quietly, though something in his tone suggested the answer cost him more than he cared to admit.
They continued dancing in silence, the space between them carefully maintained, yet somehow charged with an awareness that had nothing to do with lessons in propriety.
Jane found herself studying the strong line of his jaw, the way concentration softened his usually stern features, the graceful competence with which he guided her through movements that felt more like a conversation and less like a choreography.
“You make it look so effortless,” she noted as their dance drew to a close.
“I had excellent instruction,” Richard replied, bringing them to a stop with a flourish that left them closer than propriety strictly allowed. “As you will, given sufficient practice.”
For a moment, they remained in that position, his hand still on her waist, hers still on his shoulder. The afternoon light caught the golden flecks in his hazel eyes, and Jane felt something shift in the carefully constructed distance between them—a single crack in the wall he had built to keep the world at arm’s length.
“Richard, I…” she began, her voice breathless with something that had nothing to do with the exertion of dancing.
A sharp rap at the ballroom doors shattered the moment as effectively as a pane of glass struck by a stone.
They sprang apart with guilty haste, Richard’s expression snapping back to cool formality while Jane fought to calm her racing pulse.
“Enter,” he called, his voice betraying none of the tension that had crackled between them moments ago.
The doors opened to admit the butler, whose usually impassive expression carried a hint of suppressed excitement. “Your Grace, Lady Harriet has arrived from the country estate. She sends word that she could not bear to wait another day to meet Her Grace properly, and has brought sufficient luggage to remain for an extended visit She awaits you in the blue drawing room.”
Before Richard could respond, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond, followed by a feminine voice calling out with complete disregard for propriety, “Richard! Where are you hiding that new sister of mine? I’ve brought gifts!”
Jane watched in fascination as her husband’s carefully maintained composure cracked slightly, revealing what might have been fondness beneath his usual reserve.
“My sister,” he explained unnecessarily, “has never met a social convention she could not enthusiastically ignore.”
The ballroom doors burst open without warning, and Harriet swept in with a face that radiated warmth and mischief in equal measure. She wore a traveling dress of deep burgundy that should have been subdued but somehow seemed vibrant on her animated figure, and in her arms she carried…
“A puppy!” Jane exclaimed, her composure shattering at the sight of the small black and white creature that regarded her with bright, curious eyes.
“Indeed!” Harriet beamed, crossing the ballroom with swift, purposeful strides while ignoring her brother’s look of resigned horror. “Richard detests pets, of course, but I thought he would make a fitting present to welcome you to our family. I hope you like spaniels!”
She deposited the puppy directly into Jane’s arms, where it immediately began exploring her face with an enthusiastic pink tongue that made her laugh despite her attempt to maintain ducal dignity.
“Harriet…” Richard began in the long-suffering tone of a man who had fought this battle multiple times before. “You cannot simply arrive unannounced with a pet and expect?—”
“Oh, do be quiet, Richard,” Harriet interrupted cheerfully, turning to pull Jane in an embrace that was both warm and familiar. “Jane, darling! How lovely to see you again. I’ve been dying to see how you’re faring with my impossible brother in his natural habitat.”
Jane found herself returning the embrace with genuine enthusiasm, the puppy wiggling between them as it attempted to lavish affection on both women simultaneously. “Harriet, what wonderful timing. Though I must warn you that your brother has been subjecting me to rigorous duchess training. I may be half-civilized by now.”
“Heaven forbid!” Harriet declared with mock horror, stepping back to study Jane with frank amusement. “We cannot have that. Now, what shall we name this little fellow? I was thinking something dignified. Perhaps Wordsworth?”
“Or Crumpet!”
“Absolutely not,” Richard interjected firmly, though Jane noticed he made no move to remove the animal from her arms. “We are not naming it after war heroes or food.”
“Then what do you suggest?” she asked, scratching behind the puppy’s silky ears and earning an expression of blissful contentment that melted her heart. “He needs a name if he’s to join the household.”
“He is not joining the household,” Richard stated with the authority of a man accustomed to having his orders executed without question.
