Page 56 of Duke of Myste
“Got you!” Diana cried, only for him to slip through her fingers.
“No, this way!” Harriet called, lunging forward and creating a wave that soaked Jane entirely.
By the time they had finally cornered the mischievous spaniel and hauled him out of the water, all three ladies were soaked through. Their coiffures had dissolved into bedraggled wisps, and their expensive dresses clung to their bodies as their feet squelched.
And yet, Jane realized, she had not laughed so hard in months.
“We look absolutely dreadful,” Diana remarked with unusual cheerfulness, wringing her sodden skirts.
“Spectacularly dreadful,” Harriet agreed with a snort, attempting to restore some order to her dripping curls. “And I do not regret a minute of it. Pippin, you are decidedly a terrible dog, but I love you so much!”
The spaniel wagged his tail with unrepentant enthusiasm, apparently pleased with the adventure he had provided. Water dripped steadily from his glossy black and white coat, but his bright eyes suggested he would gladly repeat the performance, given the opportunity.
As they made their way back to the house, Harriet’s expression grew serious. “You know… I do believe Richard will be absolutely beside himself when he sees us.”
Jane felt some of her good humor evaporate. “He can hardly object too strenuously.”
They might have managed to sneak in undetected, had Pippin not chosen that particular moment to shake himself vigorously, spraying muddy water across the entrance hall just as the butler appeared.
“Ladies,” Mr. Wilson said with admirable composure. “Perhaps it’s better to use the servants’ entrance? Mrs. Crawford has towels by the kitchen fire.”
“Is His Grace?—”
“In his study,” the butler confirmed. “He requested to be informed immediately of your return.”
The study door slammed open, and Richard emerged like an avenging angel, his eyes blazing.
“What,” he asked in an ominous tone, “happened?”
Jane lifted her chin, drawing on reserves of dignity that were somewhat undermined by the fact that her hair was plastered to her head and water was still dripping from the hem of her gown. “Pippin went for an unplanned swim,” she said as calmly as possible. “We had to retrieve him.”
“You retrieved him.” Richard’s voice was dangerously soft. “By wading into a lake in December. All three of you.”
“The water wasn’t that deep, Your Grace,” Diana offered, earning herself a glare that could have frozen hellfire.
“Not that deep,” Richard repeated, his control beginning to fray at the edges. “And that, in your estimation, makes it perfectly acceptable for three ladies of noble birth to risk pneumonia, drowning, or worse… all for the sake of a dog?”
“He’s more thanjusta dog,” Jane replied sharply, her temper flaring in response to his tone. “He’s our Pippin, and he was frightened, and we were not about to stand by?—”
“Do you have any idea what could have happened? The water is freezing, the bottom is uneven, you could have slipped… hit your head…” Richard stopped, running a hand through his hair in barely contained frustration.
“But we didn’t,” Jane pointed out, her voice rising to match his. “We are all perfectly fine, all four of us, if somewhat soaked. There is no need for this dramatic display of concern.”
“Dramatic display?” Richard’s composure snapped entirely. “You disappear for hours, then return looking like you’ve been shipwrecked, and you call my concerndramatic?”
“Your concern would have been touching,” Jane shot back, “if it wasn’t so utterly transparent.”
“Transparent?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It is more about your reputation than your well-being. Heaven forbid the Duchess of Myste should be seen in a less-than-perfect state.”
The accusation hit its mark, evident in the way Richard’s face flushed with anger. “My reputation? You truly think this is about my reputation?”
“Isn’t it?” Jane challenged, her own frustration finally boiling over. “Everything else seems to be. Our marriage, our interactions, and even our conversations are all carefully managed to maintain the perfect image. The pattern is rather obvious.”
“You know nothing about?—”
“I know that you cannot bear to be in the same room as me for more than five minutes!” Jane snapped, her control shattering spectacularly as her frustration bubbled to the surface. “I know that you flee every time we share a moment of genuine connection. That you treat me like a stranger when we’re alone, that you?—”
