Page 48 of Duke of Myste
Jane looked up at him, noting the way his gaze lingered on the picture she and the puppy made together, and smiled with the particular sweetness that had proven effective at undermining his more unreasonable edicts.
“Might this be my weekly demand, Your Grace? The puppy stays, and we shall discuss appropriate names over tea.”
The look of betrayal Richard shot her might have been comical if not for the underlying frustration that spoke to deeper issues. “You are using your demand for a dog?”
“I am using my demand for a companion,” Jane corrected gently. “One who will love me unconditionally and never judge my failures in perfect duchess behavior.”
Something shifted in Richard’s expression at her words, a flash of understanding that suggested he recognized the loneliness beneath her tone.
“Very well,” he conceded with obvious reluctance. “But he shall require training. Proper behavior. Discipline.”
“Naturally,” Jane agreed solemnly, though her eyes danced with suppressed mirth. “We cannot tolerate disorder in the ducal household.”
“Speaking of which,” Harriet interjected, looping her arm through Jane’s with the easy familiarity of their growing friendship, “I am dying for tea and gossip. Jane, you must tell me everything about your first week of marriage. Has Richard been insufferably proper, or merely impossible?”
“Harriet,” Richard warned, but his sister waved off his protest with blithe disregard.
“Oh, hush. Jane and I are going to be the best of friends, I can tell. Now, come along, both of you. Mrs. Winters has prepared enough food to feed an army, and I have gossip to share that will make your hair curl!”
As they made their way toward the drawing room, Jane found herself walking between the siblings, acutely aware of the differences between them. While Richard moved with careful control, every gesture measured for maximum effect, Harriet fairly bounced with enthusiasm, her conversation flowing like a bubbling stream over rocks.
“You know,” Harriet confided as they settled in the blue drawing room, the puppy immediately claiming a spot on the hearth-rug with the confidence of the already-adopted, “Richard had been impossible before your marriage. Stalking about the house like a caged wolf, snapping at innocent servants, working himself into exhaustion over ledgers that could perfectly well wait another day.”
“Harriet,” Richard warned again, though with less heat this time.
“It’s true, and you know it,” she continued, pouring tea with the easy competence of someone who had managed her own household for years. “I was beginning to think he might expire from an excess of responsibility before you could finally arrive to provide distraction.”
Jane accepted her teacup, studying Richard’s profile as he gazed out the window with studied indifference to his sister’sobservations. “Perhaps His Grace simply needed time to adjust to married life. It cannot be easy, accommodating another person’s presence in one’s carefully ordered existence.”
“Carefully ordered?” Harriet laughed, the sound bright and infectious. “My dear Jane, you give him too much credit. Richard’s life isn’t carefully ordered—it is absolutely rigid. Has been ever since…” She paused, glancing at her brother with sudden uncertainty. “Well, ever since he inherited the dukedom. All duty and no pleasure, our Richard.”
“Some of us,” Richard said mildly, though Jane caught the edge beneath his seemingly casual tone, “find duty pleasurable enough.”
“Rubbish,” Harriet declared cheerfully. “Nobodyfinds duty pleasurable. Some people simply convince themselves they do to avoid admitting they’re afraid of anything more spontaneous.”
The observation landed with uncomfortable accuracy, evident in the way Richard’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Jane found herself studying him with renewed attention, wondering how much truth lay beneath his sister’s casual assessment.
“One matter that hasnotbeen settled,” she remarked, “is a name for our newest family member.” She nodded toward the snoring puppy.
“Wellington?”
“Perhaps something a bit more… playful?” she suggested. “Dandy?”
“Oh, I like that one!” Harriet waved her hand enthusiastically. “Or Gent?”
“What do you think, Your Grace?” Jane asked, noticing the thoughtful look on Richard’s face as he looked at the ball of fluff sprawled in front of the hearth.
“Pippin.”
The two women blinked at him for a moment, and then Jane turned back to the puppy.
“Pippin,” she repeated softly, testing the word on her tongue. “Pippin!” she repeated, her voice rising slightly.
The puppy perked up, tilting his head in her direction, giving her a soft yip as he wagged his tail.
“That’s settled, then!” Harriet exclaimed.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Jane found herself drawn into Harriet’s orbit like a planet captured by a particularly charismatic sun. They discussed everything, from fashion to literature to the scandalous behavior of various hostesses. Jane discovered that Richard’s sister possessed not only infectious enthusiasm but also a sharp wit and surprising depth of knowledge. She began to understand that beneath Harriet’scheerful exterior lay the same sense of duty that drove her brother, though she wore it much more lightly.
