Page 71 of Duke of Myste
“Then you’ll face it together,” Lydia said practically, rising from her seat.
“You make it sound rather simple,” Jane said with a weak laugh.
“Not simple, but fundamental,” Lydia corrected. “Marriage is about choosing one another every day, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks or says. It’s about trusting that your partner’s love for you is stronger than their fear of consequences.”
Jane felt something shift in her chest—a loosening of the tight knot of anxiety that had been choking her since she’d seen the morning papers. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“I have seen the way he looks at you, Jane,” Lydia continued earnestly. “At Marian’s wedding, during the few social events you attended together—even during casual conversation, the mention of your name affects him. That man is thoroughly, completely, hopelessly besotted with you. A few lines in a gossip column will not change that.”
“But what if I’m not worth the scandal to him?” Jane finally asked the question that had been haunting her.
“Then you’ll know exactly what kind of man you married,” Lydia replied with quiet conviction. “But Jane, I don’t think that choice will be as difficult for him as you fear. Richard has spent his entire adult life building a reputation of honor and integrity, yes, but what could be more honorable than standing by the woman he loves? What could show more integrity than refusing to be swayed by malicious gossip?”
The logic was undeniable, and Jane felt the last of her panic subside. “You are right,” she said, straightening her shoulderswith renewed determination. “I’m borrowing trouble from a future that may never come to pass. How silly of me.”
“Exactly,” Lydia agreed warmly. “Besides, if Richard somehow proved himself unworthy of your love—which I very much doubt—then you would handle that with the same grace and strength you’ve shown in every other challenge you’ve faced. But I suspect you will find your fears are completely unfounded. Now, enough of this fretting. You need to return to your husband before he convinces himself you’ve run off to to become a traveling performer.”
Jane managed a weak smile at her sister’s teasing. “You’re right. I should go.”
Jane smoothed her dress and checked her appearance in the small mirror above the side table. “Thank you, Lydia. I don’t know what I would do without your wisdom.”
“You would no doubt muddle through quite beautifully on your own,” Lydia quipped with a fond smile, “just as you always have. But I am glad I could help ease your worries.”
As Jane prepared to leave, Lydia added one final piece of advice.
“Remember, Jane—the strongest marriages aren’t built on avoiding conflict or criticism, but on facing those challenges together as a unit. It is not you against your husband; it is the two of you against the problem. Trust in what you and Richard have built together, and do not let fear convince you that it’s more fragile than it actually is.”
Jane made her way through the elegant corridors of Lydia’s townhouse, heading outside, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird. Each step brought her closer to Richard, and with it, the moment of truth she had been both dreading and craving.
CHAPTER 22
“Where the devil has she gone?” Richard muttered under his breath, pacing the length of his study like a caged wolf.
The morning papers lay scattered across his desk, forgotten in favor of more pressing concerns. Jane had been gone for nearly three hours, and the house felt strangely desolate without her presence.
He had expected to find her in the breakfast room or perhaps the morning room with her embroidery, but instead, he found only Harriet picking at the remnants of the morning meal.
“Harriet!” he called, marching out of his study with a purpose that bordered on desperation. “Harriet, where are you?”
His sister’s voice drifted out of the blue drawing room. “In here, dear brother! Though I must warn you, your tone suggests you’re about to be insufferably autocratic about something.”
Richard found her curled up in her favorite chair, Pippin sprawled across her lap like a furry cushion, both looking remarkably content for a morning that had left him feeling as though the ground had shifted beneath his feet.
“Where is Jane?” he asked without preamble, noting how her expression shifted from amusement to something more serious.
“She went to visit Lydia,” she replied carefully, studying his face with the keen attention she reserved for particularly volatile situations. “She might have gone seeking sisterly advice, though she did seem rather… agitated when she left.”
“Agitated?” Richard felt his stomach tighten with concern. “About what? The papers?”
“I think so, yes.” Harriet set Pippin gently aside and rose to face her brother properly. “Richard, she saw the gossip column inthe Morning Postand immediately assumed you would be furious about the attention. She seemed convinced that our evening at Vauxhall Gardens would damage your reputation beyond repair.”
Richard ran a hand through his hair, disturbing its perfect arrangement. The thought of Jane working herself into a state of anxiety over something so trivial made his chest ache with an emotion he was only beginning to recognize as protective tenderness.
“How did she travel to Lydia’s?” he asked, already moving toward the door. “I’ll take the carriage and bring her home immediately.”
“Richard, wait.” Harriet’s voice carried a note of warning that stopped him mid-stride. “She… she took Pandora.”
The words hit Richard like a bucket of icy water. Pandora was Jane’s favorite mount from his personal stables and despite his most fervent arguments against it, she had insisted on riding Pandora while her own mare, Artemis, was recovering from illness. Pandora was a spirited mare with a tendency toward independence that matched her rider’s temperament.
