Page 51 of Duke of Myste
Sleep finally claimed her, but her dreams were filled with images of a long-dead duchess who had dared to challenge convention, and a present-day duke who seemed caught between protecting what he loved and allowing it to flourish.
The next morning, she woke up with a new understanding of the delicate balance she would need to strike not just for her happiness, but for Richard’s peace of mind as well.
And perhaps, if she were patient and careful, she might just find a way to show him that some risks were worth taking, even for a man who had learned to find safety only in absolute control.
CHAPTER 16
“Istill cannot believe that Richard named him Pippin,” Harriet declared with delighted astonishment, bending to scratch behind the black and white spaniel’s ears as they made their way through the frost-touched gardens of the Derbyshire estate, enjoying the mild warmth of the spring afternoon. “In all my years, I never imagined my utterly proper brother would choose a name so… whimsical. You must have worked some sort of magic on him.”
Jane laughed, pulling her pelisse more tightly around her shoulders as she watched the small spaniel bound through patches of emerging lavender with puppyish enthusiasm. “I was rather surprised myself. Though I suspect Pippin suits him perfectly—he does seem to have a rather cheerful disposition.”
“Richard’s household could indeed benefit from a dash of chaos,” Harriet replied with characteristic directness, linking her arm with Jane’s as they continued along the gravel path. “He’s been far too serious for far too long, that man. And the fact that he agreed to keep the puppy, never mind choosing ‘Pippin’of all names… well, it gives me hope that somewhere beneath all of that ducal propriety, a bit of the boy I remember still exists.”
The spring garden around them was beginning to show signs of new life, Jane thought as they walked. Fresh green buds dotted the branches, while well-maintained hedges provided structure to beds where early flowers were starting to bloom. It was orderly, yet natural, rather like Richard himself.
“Tell me,” she said carefully, watching Pippin investigate a particularly interesting scent near an ancient sundial, “what was your brother like? As a child?”
Harriet’s expression grew thoughtful, her gaze drifting toward the windows of the study, where Richard had sequestered himself after breakfast. “He was… quite different. He could light up any room with his cheerful disposition even before entering it. But life had taken that all away from him.” She shrugged. “I suppose he learned that control was the only reliable defense against great loss.”
The observation settled heavily in Jane’s chest, adding another piece to the puzzle that was her enigmatic husband. “And he’s maintained that control ever since?”
“Without exception,” Harriet confirmed, then shot her a sideways glance filled with mischief. “Until yesterday, that is. I’ve never seen him quite so… unsettled as he was after your dancing lesson. Whatever happened, it certainly left an impression.”
Heat flooded Jane’s cheeks at the memory of that charged moment in the ballroom, the way Richard’s eyes had darkened with something that in her wildest imagination might have been considered desire. But it had disappeared too quickly, shattered by Harriet’s arrival.
“Nothing happened,” she said quickly, judging by Harriet’s knowing smile.
“Of course not,” Harriet agreed with patent insincerity. “Though I must say, for nothing happening, it certainly has my brother acting like he has seen a ghost. He’s been avoiding you quite assiduously since breakfast.”
Jane had noticed Richard’s sudden reversion to formal distance. It was impossible not to—he’d practically fled the dining room after ensuring she had everything she needed for the day. After weeks of gradual warming between them, his retreat felt like a physical blow.
“Perhaps he simply has to attend to estate matters,” she offered.
“Perhaps,” Harriet said diplomatically, though her tone suggested she believed nothing of the sort. “Or perhaps my dear brother has discovered that some things cannot be controlled through sheer force of will, and the realization terrifies him.”
They completed their circuit of the garden in comfortable silence, Pippin trotting between them with the satisfied air of a dog who had thoroughly investigated his new domain.
As they approached the house, Jane found herself glancing toward the windows of Richard’s study, wondering what thoughts occupied his mind in his self-imposed isolation.
“Come,” Harriet urged, following her gaze, “let’s see if we can tempt the hermit out of his cave. I have it on good authority that the shops at the village have received some lovely new fabrics from London, and you simply must see them before the spring rains begin in earnest and traps us indoors.”
The prospect of an outing proved irresistible, and within the hour, they found themselves seated in the carriage, bowling through the countryside toward the village that served the estate. Pippin had been left in the capable hands of Mrs. Crawford, the housekeeper who tended to the Derbyshire estate, had declared him a “dear little soul” despite her initial protests about animals in the kitchen.
“Richard declined to join us, I suppose?” Jane asked as they settled in their seats, though she already knew the answer from Harriet’s expression.
“He claimed ‘urgent correspondence requiring his immediate attention,’” Harriet replied with a roll of her eyes. “Though I suspect this ‘urgent’ correspondence consists primarily of finding reasons to avoid spending time alone with his wife.”
Little Myste proved to be the sort of picturesque English village that graced romantic paintings—stone cottages with thatched roofs, a Norman church with an ancient bell tower, and shopsclustered around a small square where a market cross had stood since medieval times.
Despite the chilly weather, the streets showed signs of prosperity that spoke well of Richard’s stewardship of his lands.
As their carriage wound through the streets, Jane noticed more signs of Richard’s careful stewardship than she had initially realized. The cottages, while modest, showed evidence of recent repairs—new thatch on several roofs, freshly painted shutters, and well-maintained gardens despite the cold season.
The prosperity Harriet had mentioned was evident not just in the shops but in the general air of contentment that seemed to pervade the community.
“Richard has done well by them,” she observed, following Jane’s gaze to where several children played in a small common area, their clothes clean and their laughter loud despite the cold. “When he inherited the dukedom, the village was in quite a different state. Father was not… well, he was not particularly concerned with the welfare of his tenants.”
“What changed?” Jane asked, curious about this aspect of her husband’s character.
