Page 52 of Duke of Myste
“Richard did.” Harriet’s voice carried a note of pride that she rarely allowed herself. “One of his very first acts as Duke was to tour every cottage, every farm, speaking with each family about their needs and concerns. He set up a fund for improvements, ensured that every child went to school, and personallynegotiated with suppliers to keep the cost of necessities reasonable.”
Jane felt a warmth spread through her chest at this revelation. It painted a picture that was completely different from the stern, control-focused man she had married. It showed someone who used his position and resources to genuinely improve the lives of those under his care.
“He never mentioned any of this to me,” she said softly.
“He wouldn’t,” Harriet replied with a slight smile. “Richard considers such things his duty, not worthy of particular praise. But the people here remember what life was like before, and they remember who changed it. That’s why they’ll accept you so readily, Jane. Not just because you’re his Duchess, but because they trust his judgment. If Richard chose you, then they will conclude you are someone worth choosing.”
The weight of that trust settled over Jane like a blanket. These people had faith in Richard’s decision, which meant they had faith in her, even before she had proven herself worthy of it.
It was both humbling and inspiring, adding another layer to her understanding of what it truly meant to be the Duchess of Myste.
“Your Grace!” The owner of the draper’s shop bobbed an enthusiastic curtsy as they entered, her round face bright with delight. “What an honor to have you visit our humble establishment. And Lady Harriet! How lovely to see you again.”
“Mrs. Pemberton,” Harriet greeted warmly. “I’ve brought Her Grace to see those fabrics you mentioned.”
The next hour passed in a delightful blur of silks and muslins, laces and ribbons displayed with the pride of a merchant who knew her trade. Jane found herself genuinely enjoying the selection process, Harriet’s enthusiastic commentary, and Mrs. Pemberton’s obvious pleasure in serving the local nobility.
“This blue would be magnificent on you,” Harriet declared, holding a bolt of sapphire silk to Jane’s cheek. “It brings out the color of your eyes wonderfully. You simply must have it made up for the Christmas assembly.”
“Christmas assembly?” Jane echoed, accepting Mrs. Pemberton’s expert assessment of how much fabric would be required.
“Oh, yes,” Harriet said with barely contained excitement. “It’s a tradition at Myste House. Richard hosts the local gentry every Christmas Eve—he has done it since he inherited the title. Quite the social event for our little corner of Derbyshire.”
The idea of hosting her first event as the Duchess of Myste sent a flutter of nervous anticipation through Jane. “I have not realized… That is, Richard has not mentioned…”
“Because he’s been too busy hiding in his study like a wounded bear,” Harriet snorted. “But don’t worry—I shall help you plan everything. It will be a wonderful practice for your new duties,and Richard cannot possibly avoid you when you’re the hostess of his own party.”
As they completed their purchases and prepared to return to the house, Jane reflected on the easy camaraderie that had developed between her and her sister-in-law. Harriet’s warm acceptance and genuine friendship felt like a gift—a bright spot in the complex landscape of her new life.
“Thank you,” she blurted as their carriage turned onto the drive toward Myste House. “For today. For your kindness. For… everything. I had not realized how much I needed a friend.”
Harriet’s smile was swift and warm. “You have one now,” she replied simply. “And I have a sister, which is something I have wanted for years. Richard may be impossible, but he certainly chose well in you.”
Darkness already began to gather by the time they returned, despite the early hour. Jane half-expected Richard to emerge and greet them, but the entrance hall remained empty save for the butler, who took their purchases with professional efficiency.
“His Grace is in the library,” Mr. Wilson informed them without being asked, a slight smile creasing his usually impassive features. “He left instructions that he was not to be disturbed unless the house is on fire.”
“How dramatic,” Harriet drawled. “Come, Jane. Let’s see if we can convince him to join us for tea, or at least to acknowledgethat he has a wife and sister who have returned safely from their outing.”
They found Richard exactly where Mr. Wilson had indicated—seated behind the massive mahogany desk that dominated the library’s far end. Papers were scattered before him in neat piles, and he appeared thoroughly absorbed in whatever document currently held his attention. So absorbed, in fact, that he did not immediately notice their presence.
Jane took advantage of the distraction to study him, noting the concentration that softened his usually stern features. Even in repose, he projected an aura of controlled power that made her pulse quicken in ways she was only beginning to understand.
“Richard,” Harriet called out cheerfully, apparently immune to the reverent silence that libraries usually commanded. “Your wife has returned laden with treasures, and you have been decidedly antisocial.”
Richard’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes immediately finding Jane’s face with an intensity that made her breath catch. For a moment, something unguarded flickered in his expression—pleasure at seeing her, perhaps, or relief that she had returned safely. Then, his usual mask of polite control slid back into place.
“Ladies,” he greeted, rising with fluid grace. “I trust your outing proved successful?”
“Entirely,” Jane replied, proud of how steady her voice remained despite the sting of his formal tone. “Mrs. Pemberton’s shop is excellently appointed, and Harriet proved an invaluable guide.”
“How gratifying,” Richard said, though his attention seemed focused somewhere beyond her shoulder rather than on her face. “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction.”
The careful politeness of his response felt like a slap in the face.
Jane’s defenses rose in response, the familiar armor of cool composure settling around her like a protective shell.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied in a matching tone. “Though I understand there are certain preparations I should make for the Christmas assembly? It seems I am to serve as hostess.”
