Page 62 of Duke of Myste
“The loss of Harrington?” Never.” Harriet’s laugh held no bitterness, only genuine amusement. “The man was a fortune-hunting scoundrel with the moral character of a snake. Theloss of marriageability? Occasionally, but not often. I have independence, comfort, and the freedom to travel and read and debate ideas that would horrify most gently-bred ladies. It is not the life I had planned, but it is a good one nonetheless.”
Jane studied her sister-in-law’s face, noting the genuine contentment that radiated from her, despite the unfortunate circumstances that had shaped her path. “You are formidable,” she said finally.
“I ampractical,” Harriet corrected with a smile. “Which brings us back to Vauxhall Gardens. Life offers precious few opportunities for genuine wonder and excitement. We would be foolish to allow Society to deprive us of such entertainment!”
“Assuming Richard can be persuaded.”
“Oh, I have complete faith in your powers of persuasion.” Harriet giggled. “Particularly given how besotted he has become since your reconciliation. The man can barely take his eyes off you long enough to attend to basic estate matters.”
Heat flooded Jane’s cheeks at that observation, though she could not deny its accuracy. Richard’s attention over the past two days had been both flattering and slightly overwhelming in its intensity, as though he were trying to memorize every detail of her presence to guard against future separation.
“Very well,” she said finally, her decision crystallizing despite her lingering apprehension. “I shall speak with him about it. Though I make no promises about his response.”
“That is all I ask,” Harriet declared, clapping her hands together. “Though I suspect you will find him more amenable than you expect.”
Jane found Richard in his study that evening, bent over correspondence with the focused attention that characterized his approach to all business matters. Pippin was curled up beside his chair, having claimed squatter’s rights to the Persian rug despite his master’s initial protests about dogs in studies.
“Am I interrupting anything urgent?” she asked from the doorway.
Richard looked up immediately, his expression softening at the sight of her. “Nothing that cannot wait,” he said, the quill in his hand hovering slightly over his correspondence. “Did you enjoy your afternoon with Harriet?”
“I did, though she has planted a rather intriguing idea in my head.” Jane walked into the room and lowered herself into the chair across from his desk with the easy familiarity that had developed between them. “She mentioned some entertainment at Vauxhall Gardens next week.”
Richard’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Vauxhall Gardens?”
“Yes.” Jane met his gaze, watching for signs of the immediate rejection she expected. “Apparently, there is to be quite the spectacular display—fireworks, acrobats, even a hot air balloon demonstration.”
“I see.” Richard set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, his expression quite unreadable. “And Harriet suggested we attend this… spectacle?”
“She did.” Jane tilted her chin up, preparing for the argument she assumed would follow. “Though I realize it is not precisely the sort of entertainment typically enjoyed by a duchess.”
Richard was quiet for a long moment, his hazel eyes studying her with careful attention. “Are you asking for my permission or informing me of your intention?”
The question caught her off guard. She had prepared for opposition, not this careful neutrality that revealed absolutely nothing of his true thoughts on the matter.
“I am asking what you think of the idea,” she said honestly. “Harriet seems to believe that life is too short to worry overmuch about what Society thinks of one’s choice of… amusements.”
“Harriet has the luxury of such philosophy,” Richard remarked dryly. “Her reputation cannot be further damaged by association with pleasure gardens.”
“And mine can?” Jane raised an eyebrow, recognizing the opening move that might become the first real test of the understanding they had reached by the moonlit lake mere nights ago.
“Not damaged, precisely,” Richard stated carefully. “But perhaps… scrutinized more closely than either of us might prefer.”
Jane leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on the persuasive tone that had proven effective during their recent lessons. “What if the scrutiny matters less than the experience? What if, for one evening, we choose adventure over propriety?”
Richard’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and she caught a glimpse of something akin to longing before it quickly disappeared. “You truly wish to go.”
“I do,” Jane admitted. “When will we ever have the opportunity to see such wonders?”
For a moment, Richard looked as if he might voice the immediate refusal she had anticipated. But then his expression softened, and when he spoke again, his tone carried a warmth that made her pulse quicken.
“Very well,” he said quietly. “We shall go to Vauxhall Gardens.”
Jane blinked, certain she had misheard. “We shall?”
“Did you expect me to refuse?” Richard asked, though his slight smile suggested he knew exactly how surprised she was.
“I rather thought you might, yes.” Jane studied his face, searching for signs of reluctance or reservation. “You agreed remarkably quickly.”
