Page 80 of Duke of Myste
Richard’s head snapped up from what appeared to be correspondence, his face immediately brightening with relief and joy at her more coherent state.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, setting aside his papers to focus entirely on her. “Your color is improved, and your eyes seem clearer.”
“Better,” Jane said softly, her voice still weak but clearer than before.
“How much better?” he pressed gently.
“Much better,” Jane assured him, managing a smile that felt more natural than her earlier attempts. “My head still aches, but it no longer feels as though someone is taking a hammer to it with every heartbeat.”
“Thank God,” Richard sighed, reaching for her hand with the reverence of a man handling something infinitely precious. “The physician said that the first few hours would be the most critical. Each hour you’re awake and coherent is a positive sign.”
Jane studied his face, noting this time with clearer vision the lines of strain around his eyes and his still disheveled appearance despite Harriet’s attempts to make him freshen up.
“You look terrible,” she noted with fond honesty. “When did you last sleep properly? And I do not mean whatever it is you’ve been doing in that chair.”
“Sleep seemed… unimportant,” Richard replied, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “I needed to be here, to make sure you were all right.”
“And I am all right,” Jane said firmly. “Or I will be. Richard, you cannot continue neglecting yourself on my account. What good would it do me to recover fully only to find that you’ve made yourself sick with concern?”
“Harriet would certainly approve of that sentiment,” Richard said, attempting lightness before gravity returned. “But Jane, today taught me something I should have realized long ago – that my careful, ordered world means nothing if you are not in it.”
Jane felt tears prick her eyes at the raw emotion in his voice. “Oh, my beloved Richard. You haven’t lost me. I’m here, I’m healing, and I am not going anywhere.”
“Promise me,” Richard pleaded, his grip on her hand tightening. “Promise me that you will be more careful. That you won’t ride out again when you’re upset. That you’ll let me share your burdens instead of carrying them by yourself.”
“I promise,” Jane said without hesitation. “But only if you promise me something in return.”
“Anything.”
“Promise me you’ll remember that we’re partners now. That your well-being matters to me as much as mine matters to you. I simply cannot bear the thought of you suffering on my account.”
Richard was quiet for a long moment, his hazel gaze studying her face as though he were memorizing every detail anew.
“I promise to try,” he allowed. “Though I make no guarantees about my success. Loving you, it seems, has made me rather… irrational.”
“I find your irrationality rather endearing,” Jane admitted with a weak laugh. “Though perhaps we could find a middle ground between complete recklessness and utter paranoia?”
“A reasonable compromise,” Richard agreed, bringing her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her palm. “Jane, there is something I need to tell you about the morning of your accident. About the scandal sheet.”
Jane’s expression grew slightly wary. “What of it?”
“I never read it,” Richard said simply. “When Harriet told me you had gone to Lydia’s because you were upset about the gossip, I realized I hadn’t even looked at the papers. I was so focused on correspondence about a parliamentary bill that I completely missed your distress.”
“You… you never read what they wrote about us?” Jane asked, surprised.
“No. And now, having nearly lost you because of my inattention to something so trivial, I find I care even less about Society’s opinion than I did before—which is saying something.”
Jane stared at him in amazement. “But Richard, your reputation?—”
“My reputation is that of a man who loves his wife,” Richard interrupted firmly. “If the ton finds that scandalous, then they need to re-examine their priorities, Jane. You are worth more to me than every gossip column, every social connection, every political alliance I’ve ever made. Nothing they could write about us matters compared to this—to you, here, safe, and healing in our home.”
The absolute conviction in his voice left Jane speechless for a moment. This was so far from the reaction she had feared, so opposite to the withdrawal and disappointment she had anticipated that she felt almost dizzy with relief.
“I love you,” she croaked, the words carrying the weight of everything she felt but couldn’t adequately express. “I love you so much that it frightens me sometimes.”
“Good,” Richard replied with a smile that transformed his exhausted features. “Because I love you the same way—completely, irrationally, and with a devotion that would probably alarm Society if they fully understood its scope.”
“Let them be alarmed,” Jane said with growing strength. “Let them write whatever they please. We know what we have, what we’ve built together. That is all that matters.”
